“Lean forward,” he ordered.
The young man did, with no hesitation or reluctance, either too beaten down to resist or perhaps sensing in some way that the Druid meant to help him, after all. Drisker placed the doubled length of metal about Tavo’s neck and pressed with his fingers to seal the ends together. Magic flared briefly as the bonding was achieved, and then it was done.
Drisker sat back and nodded approvingly. “Sit up straight and look at me.”
Tavo did so—his eyes focused now, his gaze clear. He started to reach for the band about his neck, but Drisker stopped him with a word.
“No.”
Tavo drew back his hands instantly, waiting on the Druid. “The collar remains on, Tavo,” Drisker said. “It is an inhibitor. It will prevent you from attempting to use your voice to summon the wishsong’s magic. If you violate that prohibition, the pain you will experience will be an excruciating reminder to not try again. That said, you now have your voice back and can speak in a normal way.”
Drisker rose, leaving him where he was, and summoned the others with a quick call. When he glanced back at Tavo, the young man was still sitting where Drisker had left him.
“Get up,” Drisker ordered. “There’s nothing wrong with you now. Say something. Let’s see if I am right about your voice.”
“I can feel the difference. My voice is fine.”
Drisker was already turning away. Easy to fix his voice, but his mind was another thing entirely.
* * *
—
Tarsha had walked from the clearing in a state of uncertainty, leaving her brother behind with Drisker Arc. It was difficult to do so, imagining what sorts of things the Druid might have planned once she was out of sight. She was aware that Drisker did not think it a good idea to keep her brother around, even given her insistence that she must do something to help him. She was also aware that all three men would have preferred Tavo out of the picture completely. (She could not bring herself to use the word dead.) None of them liked or trusted her brother, and she could hardly blame them for it. Nevertheless, he was her brother and the only family she had left. And she couldn’t help seeing him as the older brother she’d looked up to in their early years, before the wishsong had begun to manifest in either of them.
But she trusted Drisker, and if he said no harm would come to Tavo while she was gone, she would take him at his word.
She took her time finding Dar and Brecon, slowing noticeably as a new realization dawned on her—one unrelated to her concerns about her brother. It had been days since she had given any thought to Parlindru and her strange predictions of Tarsha’s future. The seer had made a strong impression on her, coming and going as she did without anyone seeing her. She was a calming presence, and her words were burned deep into Tarsha’s memory—especially those three predictions about the future.
But it was this one that returned to her now: Three times shall you die, but each death shall see you rise anew.
Was this not what had just happened? Tavo had come to kill her and he had thought his efforts successful until he discovered that Drisker had tricked him, moving Tarsha aside while leaving a clear image for her brother to attack. In essence, she had died and risen anew. If not in the literal sense, then surely in the abstract.
Oddly, this didn’t trouble her any more than did the prediction that she would love three times but only one would last. She had given little thought to any of Parlindru’s predictions because, after all, what good would it do? If the predictions were to come true, they were inevitable events and all she could do was await their coming. Perhaps her love for Tavo was one of three. Perhaps her deep affection for Drisker was a second. The third remained a mystery, but not a troubling one. She did pause to think what it meant that she might die twice more and rise each time, but she still thought it best to let this be. Better to let go of what you could not control and worry about what you could.
Stealing through the forest shadows, she picked up her pace and quickly found her companions, arms full of firewood as they continued to gather fuel for their fire. She was reminded again of how cold she was, and she hoped Drisker would summon them back soon so they could get warm. The day was brightening further now, the gloom pushed back a bit even within the heavy old growth, so a bit of the chill had gone out of the air.
She told Dar and Brecon what Drisker had asked of them and why, and after a quick exchange of glances, both set down their wood and stood with her as they waited for the Druid’s summons.
“So he thinks to keep your brother with us?” Brecon asked after a moment, the disbelief in his voice evident.
Tarsha nodded. “He is committed to it. I suggested it might be best if he leaves Tavo with me and goes on with the rest of you, but I think he worries that Tavo would be too much for me—even though he says the reason has more to do with Clizia Porse.”
“It might be some of each,” Dar said. He was rubbing his arms to generate some warmth within his heavy cloak. “Or even something we haven’t thought about. He is a Druid, remember, even now. And Druids are all the same in that they dissemble and conceal as a matter of course. His reasons are his own, and he will keep them that way.”
“But what can he do if he keeps Tavo with us?” Brecon asked, stamping his feet, his breath clouding the air. “How will he protect you, Tarsha, when he must reason with a twisted mind?”
She winced inwardly at those last words but kept her expression neutral. The Elven prince was simply expressing a concern for her safety, not making a judgment. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But he seemed to have something specific in mind.”
Brecon made a disgruntled sound. “Doesn’t he always?”
Dar Leah shook his head slowly. “Not always. And perhaps not so much now as before he went into Paranor. He does not seem quite the same man to me as he was before being trapped inside.”
“I sense that, too,” Tarsha said. “I know it might be odd, but it feels to me as if he has been softened by whatever happened to him in there. His edges seem blunted, his temper and his darkness less severe.”
“But he is more intense, too. More focused on his commitment to the Druid order. Before, he walked away from the Druids, gave up his position as Ard Rhys, and retired to Emberen without once looking back. If not for the Skaar invasion, he would still be in self-imposed exile. But now I sense a renewed purpose in him, a determination to embrace his role as Druid once more. When there is time, I want to ask him what exactly he endured in exile and how he finally managed to bring Paranor back into the Four Lands.”
“It could not have been a simple thing,” Tarsha agreed quickly. “He must have gone through some sort of catharsis to bring about the Keep’s return. When he first came to me while I was with Clizia and not yet aware of what she intended for me, he was distraught and despairing of his future. He did not seem to know what to do to escape his fate. There was a sadness to him then that is now gone. Something happened to him in Paranor, and I think it was more than finding a way to get free.”