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croon that told her she was loved and wanted.
For a long time there was nothing. The sun dropped behind the mountains and
all but the peaks were dark the peaks and this tower. The coverlet on the bed
had streaks of red on it, red from the setting sun.
Feeling the Glory s gaze turning on her, she lifted her head, waited.
Confident one breath, at the next, uncertain.
It was a cold gaze like the glance of a stranger who didn t know her and
perhaps didn t want to.
The words came into her mind slowly, with an ab-sent unconcern.
I m busy, Dancer, with things more im-portant than you will ever be. Don t
bother me.
Motylla cried out, grief terrible in her girl s voice.
She plucked the Mask from her face, flung it on the bed. It lay there a
moment, its surface bubbling and smoking.
A flash. Like lightning striking upward.
Gone. Nothing there but a black charred spot on the bedspread.
She whimpered.
She didn t stop shaking and gasping until the sky went black.
She pulled the tripod down and climbed onto the windowsill, knelt there
watching as the stars rained down.
When there was only blackness left, she leaned for-ward and let herself fall.
8. On The Command Tor
K vestmilly Vos pulled the quilt round her shoulders, but still shivered in
the wind that whistled round the three-sided canvas shelter Vedouce had set
up. She glanced at Cumura, who was holding the baby, whis-pering to her,
then turned her attention back to the struggle below, leaning
forward, trying to penetrate the blackness that hid the Waste and what was
hap-pening there.
Behind her she heard the tiny voice coming through the com, Heslin s muttered
reports to Vedouce.
Before and below her, she heard shots, screams, shouts, grunts, the sounds of
men fighting hand to hand, groping for enemies because they couldn t see them.
There was a
SOUND.
The sky blinked and was blue again.
Another sound a rolling scream that ran from horizon to horizon.
She watched what was happening to the Taken and turned her head away, met
Heslin s eyes and
spread her hands in the Marn s Smile. She s done it, Hes. She s stopped the
Enemy. We ve won.
9. Into Calanda
K vestmilly Vos rode beside the wagon driver, the baby in her arms, her Mask
in place; as they passed through the rags of the False Marn s army, she
cov-ered the baby s head with the blanket one of the women had knitted for
her.
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Some wandered aimlessly, dazed, not understand-ing what they were doing here.
Some lay where they fell, dead from seizures or heart failure. The minds of
some broke completely, though in different ways. There were those who lay like
logs, alive but sealed off from the world. There were those who plucked at
themselves, ridding themselves of clothes, of hair, peeling their own skin
away, then their flesh down to bone. There were those that sat muttering to
them-selves. There were a hundred different kinds of mad-ness, as if each man
found his own way out of reality.
And there were the wounded, lying neglected shattered arms and legs, great
gaping wounds. The smell of blood was everywhere.
And there were the dead. Old, young, men in their prime. Those were hidden
now. Invisible beneath hordes of scavenging trax and havrans, many of them
staggering from body to body, bellies too full to fly.
She turned her head, tilted it so she could see Olmena. As of now, Olmena
Oumelic, you are chief
Healer of Cadander. The Hospital is yours. What-ever resources you need, see
me. I can t promise to get you everything you want, but what I can do, I
will. She swallowed. A city of ghosts, even the liv-ing are half dead. The
waste. The horrible waste.
Holding the Dedach where the people could see her, weary and saddened,
K vestmilly Vos came into Calanda.
Ragged, quiet people filled the streets, coming out from warrens and shops
that were as worn and dull as the people. So many of them women and children
despite the unending burnings in the Temple court. Which is another thing
she d have to deal with. Some of the Glorymen, the Purgers and the
Parsonas served the Enemy freely; the withdrawal wouldn t have hit them like
it did the Taken.
I ll need judges, she thought.
There have to be trials. Soon. Public as pos-sible. Zdra, I need an
Inquisitor.
Hedivy would do if he were here, but I can t wait. Talk to Heslin? Ah! I know.
Spider One. I ll get growls for putting a woman in the job, but she knows
better than most what s been done here.
She smiled, pleased with herself. One small difficulty removed.
Step at a time, she thought.
Keep stepping and it s all done, this generation or the next.
When she looked down at Nahera Vos, the next generation was crumpling up her
face and waving
her fists about to demand her next feeding. She laughed, lifted her blouse and
set Cadander s future to suck.
Epilog
1. In The Marn s Tower
K vestmilly Vos stood at a window in the Marn s Tower looking out over the
city. Heslin stood silent behind her; the baby slept on the bed, pillows on
ei-ther side of her. The lamps were lit there to give a point of hope in the
devastation to the people in Dander and Calanda who were beginning to wake
from nightmare. A link to old times, better times.
I m so tired, if I let my eyes shut, I couldn t pry them open before Spring
comes.
Mnun
.
It s good to be back. She sighed, a long con-tented exhalation. Even better
to have money again, hot running water and a bed to sleep in.
Then the Marn s Hoard was ...
Hidden where the Marn left it. Zdraaaa, Hes, so much to do.
She had to put down the rebellion of the outland Pans, reclaim Zemyadel, the
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Bezhval and Holland in the Travasherrims, reestablish the rule of law
every-where, and feed her people in the winter that was coming down on them.
It should have appalled her, but she found the prospect challenging. She
leaned back against Heslin. I won t be bored.
Heslin chuckled, rubbed his fingers gently on the back of her neck. After a
moment, he said, Give me a real job.
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