"She's right about the sun," Orekel said softly to Ruari, though Zvain was between them and could easily hear every word. "We got to get moving, son, or we'll fry."
They were already parched and achy from a lack of water, which Ruari could remedy with druidry. The mountains were livelier than the Sun's Fist. If they'd had a bucket, he could have filled it several times over. Without a bucket, he was hoping they'd last until he found a natural depression in the rocks. Here on the ledge, he had nothing but his cupped hands to hold the water he conjured out of the air.
"Come on, Zvain," Ruari pleaded.
Mahtra walked ahead. "I'm leaving. Finding Kakzim's more important."
Orekel shrugged. "The lady's right, son. We can't stay here." He followed Mahtra.
"Zvain—?"
The boy turned slowly away from Ruari and took a halting step in Orekel's direction.
Ruari found his hollow rock near the top of the gap. On his knees with his eyes closed and his arms outstretched, he recited the druid mnemonics for the creation of water in the presence of air and stone. The guardian aspect of this place was sharp-edged like the cliffs, and heavy like the mountains themselves. Ruari couldn't hold it the first time, and his spell did not quicken. The recitation ended with the hollow as dry and empty as it had begun. Grimly, the half-elf withdrew Pavek's knife from its sheath and made a shallow gash along his f
orearm. With his blood as a spark, the spell quickened and water began to collect in the hollow.
When the water was flowing steadily, Ruari sat back on his heels, letting the others drink while he recovered from the strain of druidry in an unfamiliar place.
"Magician, eh?" Orekel asked.
"Druid." Ruari offered the correct name for his sort of spellcraft.
"Don't kill no plants, do you?"
"Wind and fire, no—I'm not a defiler, nor a preserver. I'm not a wizard at all. My power comes from the land itself, all the aspects of it."
"So long as you don't suck things down to ash. Can't go taking nobody into the forest who'd turn 'em into ash."
"Don't worry."
Zvain had finished drinking. Orekel drank next, with Ruari's permission, then Ruari himself drank his fill. When he'd finished, water was still bubbling in the hollow, faster than they could drink it down. It spilled over the top and seeped across the soles of his sandals while Mahtra stood and stared.
"You better drink," Ruari advised. "I can't do that again until sundown, and we don't have anything to carry water in."
The boy and the dwarf didn't need a second invitation, but Ruari stayed on the opposite side of the hollow, his fists propped against his hips.
"After all this time, Mahtra—after all we've been through —do you truly think we're going to laugh or run away screaming?"
"You might," she replied with that smooth honesty that left more questions than answers in Ruari's mind.
The half-elf shook his head and lowered his arms. "Have it your way, then," he said and started walking. He'd gone several paces when she called out:
"Wait!"
Ruari turned around as she lowered her hands from the back of her head, bringing the mask with them. The mask was a good idea, he decided immediately. Her face was so unusual, he couldn't keep from staring. Mahtra had no nose to speak of, just two dark curves matched against each other. She didn't have much of a chin, either, or lips. Her mouth was tiny—about the right size for those red beads she liked so much—and lined with teeth he could see from where he stood. Yet for all its strangeness, Mahtra's face wasn't deformed. With her eyes and skin, an ordinary human face would have been deformed. Mahtra's face was her own.
"Different," Ruari acknowledged aloud. "Maybe different enough to warrant a mask—but it's your face—the face that belongs to the rest of you."
"Ugly," she retorted, and he saw that her mouth did not shape her voice and words.
"No—Pavek's..." He sighed and began again. "Pavek was ugly."
"Akashia said no. She said he wasn't an ugly man."
Another sigh. "Kashi said that, did she?" It was too late to consider what Kashi might have meant. "What did she say about me?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all—but we weren't talking about you."