“Where’s Loren?” he asked abruptly.
“In town,” Dave said. “So’s Teyrnon. There’s a meeting in the palace tomorrow. It seems … it seems Kim and the others did find out what was causing the winter.”
”What was it?” Paul asked tiredly.
“Metran,” Jaelle said. “From Cader Sedat. Loren wants to go after him, to the island where Amairgen died.”
He sighed. So much happening. His heart wasn’t going to be able to keep up. At the going down of the sun and in the morning . . .
“Is Kim in the palace? Is she okay?” It suddenly seemed strange to him that she hadn’t come here to Jennifer.
He read it in their faces before either of them spoke.
“No!” he exclaimed. “Not her too!”
“No, no, no,” Dave rushed to say. “No, she’s all right. She’s just . . . not here.” He turned helplessly to Jaelle.
Quietly, the High Priestess explained what Kimberly had said about the Giants, and then told him what the Seer had decided to do. He had to admire the control in Jaelle’s voice, the cool lucidity. When she was done he said nothing. He couldn’t think of anything to say. His mind didn’t seem to be working very well.
Dave cleared his throat. “We should go,” the big man said. Paul registered, for the first time, the bandage on his head. He should inquire, he knew, but he was so tired.
“Go ahead,” Paul murmured. He wasn’t quite sure if he could stand up, even if he wanted to. “I’ll catch up.”
Dave turned to leave but paused in the doorway. “I wish . . .”he began. He swallowed. “I wish a lot of things.” He went out. Jaelle did not.
He didn’t want to be alone with her. It was no time to have to cope with that. He would have to go, after all.
She said, “You asked me once if there could be a sharing of burdens between us and I said no.” He looked up. “I am wiser now,” she said, unsmiling, “and the burdens are heavier. I learned something a year ago from you, and from Kevin again two nights ago. Is it too late to say I was wrong?”
He wasn’t ready for this, he hadn’t been ready for any of what seemed to be happening. He was composed of grief and bitterness in equal measure. As we that are left . . .
“I’m so pleased we’ve been of use to you,” he said. “You must try me on a better day.” He saw her head snap back.
He pushed himself up and left the room so she would not see him weep.
In the domed place, as he passed, the priestesses were wailing a lament. He hardly heard. The voice in his mind was Kevin Laine’s from a year ago in a lament of his own:
“The breaking of waves on a long shore,
In the grey morning the slow fall of rain,
Oh, love, remember, remember me.”
He walked out into the fading light. His eyes were misted, and he could not see that all along the Temple slope the green grass had returned and there were flowers.
Her dreams were myriad, and Kevin rode through all of them. Fair and witty, effortlessly clever, but not laughing. Not now. Kim saw his face as it must have been when he followed the dog to Dun Maura.
It seemed to her a heartbreaking thing that she could not remember the last words he had said to her. On the swift ride to Gwen Ystrat he had ridden up to tell her what Paul had done and of his own decision to let Brendel know about Darien. She had listened and approved; briefly smiled at his wry prediction of Paul’s likely response.
She had been preoccupied, though, already moving in her mind toward the dark journey that lay ahead in Morvran. He must have sensed this, she realized later, for after a moment he’d touched her lightly on the arm, said something in a mild tone, and dropped back to rejoin Diarmuid’s men.
It wouldn’t have been anything consequential—a pleasantry, a gentle bit of teasing—but now he was gone and she hadn’t heard the last thing he’d ever said to her.