Raven's Shadow (Raven #1)(91)

"So when they made these stones," said Benroln somberly, "each ring was another Traveler born without an Order."

Brewydd nodded her head. She looked at Hennea. "You said that the wizards of the Path, these Masters, find that they cannot use some of these. I believe that they took the Order too soon, that there are bits of personality still clinging to the stones. The only time I've ever seen something similar is when I had to deal with a Raven's Memory."

"A Raven's Memory?" asked Benroln.

"A Raven's Memory," said Brewydd, "happens only when a Raven is murdered. A Raven can take the power that always comes with death and a part of himself to the Order and bind the result to a false life until it carries out vengeance against his murderer."

"But it's not only the Raven stones that..." Seraph's voice trailed off because she wasn't certain how to explain it.

"No." Brewydd sorted out a half dozen rings. "Here is the Lark, a couple of Ravens, a Hunter and Bard, these all contain part of their last Order-Bearer. They're bound, tied to the stones so they can't act like Raven Memories - but I bet the wizards who tried to wear them got a rude surprise."

"Do you know what to do with them?" asked Hennea.

"Not yet," said Brewydd. "Do you mind if I keep these?" She indicated the jewelry.

"No," said Seraph. "If you can figure out what to do with them, how to free the Orders, it is more than Hennea and I have managed."

Brewydd nodded and collected the rings into Seraph's bag. "Tell that boy of yours to come to my wagon tomorrow when we stop to camp," she said.

"Lehr?" asked Seraph cautiously.

Brewydd nodded. "I know a few odd things about Hunters he might be interested in." She got to her feet. "I know a lot more than I let on," she said. "But I only share with those I like. Your boy was exhausted and heartsick, not to mention tired of taking orders and angry with the whole of my clan - yet he still was courteous and gentle. I like him." She glared at Benroln.

He got up off the chair with a crack of laughter. "I love you, old woman." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I'm going to get some sleep before I fall over. You'll want to keep the mermora until you've solved this puzzle with the rings, and you are welcome to it, Brewydd. Good night."

Brewydd turned to Seraph. "I'm an honest woman, so I'll tell you that I'm not used to learning wisdom from those younger than I. I thought that I had to convince him that what he was doing to earn gold was wrong. I never considered trying to find something else for him to do instead. Thank you."

Seraph shook her head. "I'm afraid you have Hennea to thank for that."

Hennea smiled and got up. "You're welcome to any bits of wisdom I pick up. Now, I'm with Benroln; it's time to sleep. Can I escort you to your wagon?"

Brewydd laughed and winked at Seraph. "I'll say yes, only because that handsome young Guardian who's been waiting outside will come, too."

Seraph laughed, yawned, and left for their tent.

"Seraph, wake up," Hennea's voice was soft and disappeared into the dream.

"Mother," murmured Jes.

At the sound, Seraph sat up and opened her eyes almost in the same motion. "Jes, are you all right?"

He smiled his sweet smile. "Fine, Mother, but you're going to wake the camp."

Seraph yawned and tried to find the reason they'd woken her up in what Jes had just said. It was still dark out and everyone except her was lying down. Hennea had a gentle grip on Seraph's arm.

"You were having nightmares," said Lehr, rolling on his side so he could see her more easily.

When he said it, she remembered. Tier had been sitting on a throne of oak, ash, and rowan while a spell was worked around him. He'd been playing one of the songs he played often at the tavern, though she couldn't remember which one it was. She'd run to him, knelt at his feet, and set her head in his lap as she had sometimes when the nightmares had been so bad after her brother had died. But there had been something wrong. He'd kept playing, ignoring her entirely. Finally she'd reached up to touch the skin of his arm and screamed. His flesh had been warm, she could feel blood pulse under her fingertips, but she knew that he was dead.

Nervously she ran her fingers in her hair. "Thank you for waking me," she said, lying down again.

"What did you dream of?" asked Hennea.

"I don't remember," Seraph lied. She had no talent for foreseeing, she reminded herself firmly. It had only been a dream.

She lay back and stared at the top of the tent. She knew that Jes and Lehr assumed they'd find Tier hale and whole and the only problem would be getting him out, but Seraph had too much experience to believe in happy endings.

He might be dead.

She'd never told Tier that she loved him. Never once.

She had done her best to turn herself into a good wife, tried to become the person he needed as helpmeet. She knew he'd assume that she'd never told him that she loved him because she didn't.

He was wrong.

Tier felt guilty for so much: that she'd been forced to marry him, that she'd been so young. Their marriage had freed him from the burden of taking over the family bakery and he felt guilty about that, too. He'd gained his freedom and she'd lost hers, lost her chance to rejoin her people. If she'd ever told him that she loved him, he'd have told her that he loved her, too.