move along by the guards. He might well have to trust his undefined skills to get him in under their notice. Still, a well-traveled storyteller was not without friends, and he knew of places where he could find those who would help him. Finn could only hope their greeting was more than a chilling glance.
Perilous and Fair they called it, and for most who saw it, it brought hope and delight to their hearts. To Talyn, though, it was the greatest symbol of defeat; her people's only city, the single constant in a world that changed so quickly. They had called it V'nae Rae, and it had been truly special. Only four places were of any significance to the wandering Vaerli: two lost, one haunted, and this last trampled beneath enemy feet. If her heart wasn't already dead, it would have broken every time she came back here.
The yester-time made it worse. Her eyes deceived her. At every corner she could see the ghosts of times past. Childhood friends lurked in the shadows, long-dead relatives waved from beside fountains, and memory burned her in every street.
It hurt because it was his home now. As she reported her arrival and handed off her bounty to the captain of the guards, her eyes drifted to the crowd. She was used to the downcast eyes and the acceleration of footstepsâwhat she wasn't used to was a man staring. Looking closer, Talyn realized that something of familiarity lingered about him. His red-gold hair and tallness marked him as one of the tribes of Manesto. His stance was empty of deference and full of something else she could not nameâ¦
A wave of unreality swept through her as if she might faint. Balancing on her toes, she managed to avoid falling, but the sensation did not pass. The Void pressed close; it was the brightness of the between-worlds itself. Memory of it lingered in her peoples' blood from the time of the Great Conflagration, and it was forever their greatest fear.
Straightening, Talyn turned away from the man, not acknowledging his existence. Fearâlike every other emotionâwas lost to the Vaerli now. If the White Void was opened once more it would, as foretold, signal another great destruction. She could only pray such a time would come and swallow the Caisah with it.
Still, the moment echoed inside her as she walked within the gates and found a quiet stall for Syris; one where he would not attack horses or be approached by foolish stable boys. Occasionally one would attempt to prove his manhood, and it always ended badly.
She untangled a matted portion of his mane, accepting the cut fingertips, and sighed into his ear. âThank you.â
The nykur's hide ran with a shiver. He too felt the gaze of the Caisah, and Syris liked neither V'nae Rae, nor her master.
âIt's all right, boy.â She patted the thick green fur of his flank as the lie settled inside her.
However, a nykur could taste untruths, and the great shaggy head turned, regarding her with a dark intelligent eye. Many years and many times they had both ridden here. It was always the same. Both wished only to be away.
Talyn left the stable, making for her room with the pistol tucked under one arm and her blade in her left hand. The small bare room on the second floor had been hers for her entire service to the Caisah. Talyn had chosen it because it was one of the few rooms in the Citadel that was not shadowed by yester-time shades.
She dropped the pistol on the bed with disdain; it was the Caisah's weapon. Pistols had been unknown to the Vaerli but developed by the Manesto in recent yearsâthough where the Caisah had found such knowledge was not known. What Talyn knew was that the weapon made her shiver. She had instructed the gunsmith to carve Vaerli symbols on it in an effort to halt that reaction, but it mattered little. Whatever of her people's nature remained inside her, it abhorred the gun and everything it stood for.
It was illegal for a Vaerli to carry weapons; she was the only sorry exception to