Raven's Strike (Raven #2)(137)

Something reached up from Willon at the moment of his death and grasped onto Jes, wrapping itself around him. When it touched him, it felt as if someone had torn away his skin and pressed him into the man Willon had been. No man should ever know another as Jes knew Willon at that moment. He couldn't hide, couldn't distinguish himself from the Shadowed.

Cold hands touched his face and he felt Willon draw away, as if Willon's ghost had no wish to come in contact with those hands.

"His death belongs to me," said the Memory. "Give it to me."

"Yes," agreed the Guardian and gave way to Jes.

Cold lips touched Jes's and he opened his mouth even as he struggled against the Memory's hold - not because he wanted to, but because he couldn't help himself. He had no words for the sensations he felt then as Willon was drawn from him like a sword from its sheath.

Only when he was empty, did the Memory release him. Jes stared at it, unable to look away. The Memory had become a darkness so solid, Jes could hardly bear to look upon it. Rain glistened on it like wet ink.

"I am avenged," it said, and it was gone.

Papa quit singing midword. He walked over and put a hand on Jes's shoulder. Raw as he was, even such a light contact hurt, but Jes needed the reassurance more than he needed freedom from pain, so he leaned against his father for a moment.

When he pulled away, Hennea was there, slipping a hand through the crock of his arm and resting her cheek against his shoulder. The cool grace of her presence washed over him, soothing the raw places Willon's death had left. He sighed with relief.

Mother came and gave him a sharp once over. "You'll do," she said.

He smiled tiredly at her, or maybe it was the Guardian who smiled.

"And so," Papa said, his voice hoarse and his face unreadable. "And just so died the Shadowed who was once Willon, merchant of Redern."

Mother took Papa's hand and brought it to her lips. "Well done, my love."

Chapter 21

They brought their dead out of the city.

While Hennea and Seraph set about making a meal, Tier got a camp shovel and began digging. Lehr joined him a few minutes later with another shovel.

"Who are we burying?"

"Willon," Tier answered.

"We won't have to bury him too deeply," Lehr said. "There's nothing left that would attract carrion feeders."

"There's all sorts of carrion feeders," said Phoran, coming over in time to hear Lehr's last remark. "I think six feet might be deep enough. I'll spell you when you get tired."

When Jes wandered over, his eyes soft and happy, they had dug down about halfway and had to leave the digging to one man at a time because there was no room in the grave for two. Jes crouched so his head was level with Tier's.

"Are we going to bury Rufort and Hinnum?" he asked.

Tier sighed at the thought of digging another grave through the hard soil. "Let's wait and ask what their customs were. Hennea will know what to do with Hinnum. Phoran, do you know what Rufort's people do?"

"No." Phoran shook his head. "But Kissel will. He's sleeping now, but I'll ask him when he awakes."

"Kissel's up," Jes said. "I can hear him complaining about his shoulder. It itches, and he can't reach it under the bandages. Toarsen - "

" - is coming over to help," said Toarsen. "Hop out of there, old man, and let me take a turn. I didn't get to kill him, but I'll have my part in the burial. I don't want him crawling back out of his grave."

Tier knew better. He did. But when the rest of them turned to make sure that Willon's body had not moved, he did, too.

Swearing, Tier jumped out of the hole and handed his shovel to Toarsen. "Dig," he said. "And take it as punishment for that thought."

They buried Willon deep in the earth. Hennea muttered something over the grave as they filled it. She didn't use the usual words of an eulogy; it was more of a good-riddance-and-stay-in-your-grave-forever which she enforced with magic that Tier could feel envelop the grave.

No one wanted to sleep before their dead were tended, and there wasn't much time before dark to collect a lot of firewood. So Hinnum and Rufort burned on a pyre owing more to the power of the Ravens than to the sparse pile of wood while Phoran, Toarsen, and Kissel told what they knew of Rufort's life. When they were through, Hennea got up and spoke of Hinnum, the last wizard of Colossae.

Seraph and Hennea spent most of the next day freeing the Orders from the gems, but they stopped before dinner.

"It's going to take a long time," Seraph told Tier, as she ate Jes and Lehr's rabbit stew. "We worked all day, and I think we freed four of them." The first one, the Lark's tigereye, Tier had watched.

"That's all right, Mother," said Jes, looking up from feeding Gura. They'd all taken turns babying the limping dog, but Kissel wouldn't let anyone but Rinnie baby him. Tier had derived considerable amusement watching Kissel's bewildered looks as Rinnie made him lie down while she tucked his blankets against him.

"There's no hurry," Jes continued. "Hennea is staying with us."

We could spend this fall building Jes and Hennea a cabin, Tier thought. Jes would like something farther in the woods, if the forest king wouldn't mind. But he looked at his wife and didn't say anything. She was all Traveler now, her hair in braids and her skirts traded for Traveler garb.