The White Road

CHAPTER 35 Farewell

THE VOYAGE to Nanta took three days—three all-too-short days for Alec. He spent most of his time tending Sebrahn, and had him in the bed with them every night. Seregil made no complaint, but let him know with a silent nod that first night that he understood. They’d soon be saying farewell.

Alec grieved in silence; his decision back on the island seemed harder now that he was so close to losing the little rhekaro. Sebrahn wasn’t strong enough to walk yet, and Seregil kept the Hâzad away.

They reached Nanta in the morning, and the time to part forever came at last. Alec said his good-byes to Sebrahn in the privacy of their cabin, with only Seregil there to see.

Seated on the bed with the rhekaro on his lap, he stroked that pale hair for the last time and whispered, “This time it’s you leaving me.”

Sebrahn touched Alec’s cheek. “Leeeeving.”

“That’s right. But you’ll be with Hâzadriën, and other rhekaros. You’re happy with him, aren’t you?”

“Haaaaa-zen.”

“I’m sorry.” Alec was fighting back tears now. “I wish—I wish things were different but—I want you to be safe and—” Overcome, he hugged Sebrahn close, wondering what Rieser would do if he refused to give him up.

Seregil sat down and put an arm around him. “It’s time, Alec,” he said gently. “Do you want me to do it? Rieser’s just outside.”

Alec wiped the tears from his cheeks. “No. I will.” Rising, he carried Sebrahn across the room, committing the feel of those cool little arms around his neck to memory.

Hâzadriën and Rieser sat on the stairs outside, but rose when he came out.

“You’re ready?” asked Rieser.

“Yes.” It took all of Alec’s will to place Sebrahn in the tall rhekaro’s arms. “Take—take care of him for me. He trusts you.”

“I’ll see that they remain together,” Rieser promised.

And then there was nothing left to say. Unable to watch them climb the stairs, Alec turned and walked back into the cabin. Head down, he mumbled, “I need to be alone.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Just for a while.”

“All right then.” Seregil paused and embraced him, and Alec knew how important it was for him not to pull away. Instead he hugged him back gratefully, then found he couldn’t let go.

Seregil stroked his hair. “I know, talí. I know. It’s all right.”

“No, it’s not!” He already felt the burning ache of loss in his chest. His “child of no mother” could not be his. Not if he wanted the life he had. Seregil’s arms tightened around him; he knew loss, too. Somehow, that helped.

From Nanta, Rhal set sail for the Cirna Canal, and the little port of Ardenlee nearby. Seregil spent the first day in the cabin with Alec, and Micum let them be. When Alec appeared at supper the following night, his eyes were red and he was very quiet. Micum looked over at Seregil, but his friend shook his head. There was nothing anyone could say to Alec right now that would ease his pain.

Alec was a little better the next day, and by the time they reached Cirna, he seemed nearly himself again, though there’d been no singing or gaming this crossing. Seregil spent a great deal of time poring over the pieces of the stolen books, trying to pierce the code, but with little success. Micum suspected his heart wasn’t really in the task just now. Sebrahn’s absence was palpable between them.

They arrived at midmorning, guided in by twin columns of smoke from the beacon fires above the Astellus and Sakor columns. It had been a few years since Micum had sailed through the great Canal, which connected the Inner and Osiat seas. As they sat at anchor, waiting for the harbormaster to signal their turn, he stood on the deck with Alec and Seregil, taking in the sight of it.

“I’ll never forget the first time I saw this, aboard the Grampus,” murmured Alec.

“While I was busy dying in the hold,” Seregil said with a chuckle.

The ships ahead of them disappeared one by one into the dark maw of the channel, each signaled in by a mirror flash from near the top of the Astellus pillar.

“That’s our signal!” the lookout cried.

It was too dangerous to sail though the narrow channel, so ships like the Lady that were not fitted out with oars were towed through by large longboats.

It was just short of noon now, and they could clearly see the glassy places on the rough, towering walls, signs of the ancient magic used to make this wonder. Freshets of water flowed here and there, their tinkling splash sounding loud in the narrow space.

As they reached the halfway point, Micum saluted the statue of Tamír. “Thanks for the use of your road, Majesty.”

Reaching the far end at last, the longboat cast off and they hoisted canvas and sailed down the rocky coast to Ardenlee.

They’d decided to put in here, rather than Rhíminee, and enter the city as quietly as possible, which for Seregil and Alec meant evading any of the queen’s spies who might recognize them. There were still the pieces of the books to be dealt with before they made their presence generally known.

The sailors swam their horses ashore, and they followed in a longboat with their gear. Rhal came along to bid them farewell.

When they were ashore at last, he clasped hands with each of them and held Alec’s the longest. “Take care, my lords, and see if you can keep out of trouble for a while.”

“Good hunting,” said Seregil.

“And a full hold,” added Micum.

They stayed the night in a small inn, and set off the next day for the Bell and Bridle once again. “It’s good not to be pursued this time,” Micum remarked.

Seregil chuckled but Alec just looked away and said nothing. He’d been carrying Sebrahn the last time they came this way.

They spent the night at the Bell, and Seregil used one of the message sticks to let Thero know of their return. The following morning it was time to finally say another farewell.

“I could ride to Rhíminee with you,” Micum offered as they stood together in the stable yard.

“You’ve made Kari wait far too long already,” Seregil told him. “Give her our apologies, and tell Illia and the boys that we’ll bring presents to make up for your absence.”

“They’ll hold you to that. And see that you come out to Watermead soon.” He wagged a finger at them both. “I expect to see you before the spring foaling’s done.”

“You will,” Alec promised. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Micum embraced them each in turn. “I’ll miss you. I always do.”

Mounting his horse, he turned and headed for home.

Alec and Seregil watched him out of sight, then headed for the stable to get their horses.

“What do you say, Cynril, my girl?” Seregil asked, rubbing the tall black’s nose. “Ready to turn your head for home?”

Home, thought Alec. “The villa or the inn?” he asked, hoping for the latter.

“The inn, of course. I think we deserve a few days’ peace before we plunge back into society.”

“Good.” After all the horrors and hardships of these past months, Alec wanted to hide away in their secret rooms for about a year before he even considered parties and intrigues.