Reichert, Mickey - Renshai 02 by Reichert Mickey

Author:Reichert, Mickey [Reichert, Mickey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

The Survivors

Colbey lay in a quiet slumber that had grown too familiar to Mitrian in the last three days. She sat in vigil by his bedside, her back pressed to the wall and her thoughts distant. Her mind conjured images of the citadel on the hilltop that had once been her home, of the view from its crest that had made the town unfurl like a map below her. Years of memory traced the picture in vivid detail: the straight rows of cottages, the roads dotted with the men and women she had loved, and the yards filled with the white, bushlike forms of sheep. For so many years, the play screams of children had sounded through the streets; at one time, these had called her to her own games.

But the world she had known had crumbled, a war spoil of Northmen. Probably, they had left now; geographical barriers would make it nearly impossible for Northmen to hold the territory. The survivors could return to their loved ones and, over many years, rebuild the city that had once stood, cradled between the mountain ranges. For Mitrian, nothing remained. No matter their condition, the buildings she had lived in since birth were haunted by her parents. Santagithi’s strong presence permeated even her mental images of the town.

The men in the next room would need to select a new leader as well, and Mitrian meant to make their choice easy. She knew it would need to be a man. To other societies, like the Renshai, gender mattered little, but the West had a narrower image of female and male roles. Santagithi’s remaining citizens had undergone too much to have the foundations of their religion and society disrupted also. Garn’s zeal and lack of strategic competence would make him a poor choice. And, having lived most

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of her life in Santagithi’s citadel, Mitrian doubted she could adjust to a cottage. All of her childhood playmates lay dead, casualties of Garn’s wrath, the Great War, and the war she had just survived. Those members of her family who were not dead were with her, and Mitrian had no reason to return to a city of ghosts that would spark her memories and grief at every turn.

Mitrian placed her hand on Colbey’s, as usual receiving no movement or response. Occasionally, he did stir into consciousness, at times enough to swallow a few spoonfuls of Shadimar’s herb concoction. But Colbey never became coherent. No life looked out from his eyes, even when he opened them. Still, Mitrian hoped, fearing the responsibilities his death would force upon her. She still practiced her sword maneuvers daily, and Rache always joined her. Since their arrival in the Eastern Wizard’s ruins, Episte had done little more than sleep and keep his vigils at Colbey’s bedside.

A tap sounded on the door, then it swung open. Rache stood in the entry way. “My turn, Mama.”

Mitrian rose, yawning.

Rache stepped across the threshold, studying Colbey in the candlelight. “Anything?” he asked, mostly from politeness, Mitrian guessed.

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