She had shivered at his touch before. . or was that another woman? Stop! Was she dying? Don’t think. . act!
“Please,” he said shaking her slightly. “I’ll take care of you.”
Her eyes suddenly focused on him and she blinked.
She started to giggle. “Take me?”
Drakis drew back. Sanity had left the woman’s eyes.
“Take me?” Mala began to laugh. She threw her head back and started howling with laughter, hysterical and uncontrolled.
Don’t think. . just act!
He drew her up with him to stand, but her legs were unsteady beneath her. He leaned over and picked her up, draping her over his shoulder as he considered the way back toward the chakrilya portcullis and the Warrior’s Gate beyond. He adjusted the grip on his sword one last time and then charged forward, trying to concentrate on getting free, on getting out into the open air and then, maybe then, he could try to make sense of the terrible nightmare his own memories had suddenly become.
At his back, the hysterical laughter had changed to dreadful, soul-shattering sobs.
Drakis now knew the truth-but he did not know how he would live with the knowledge.
Drakis struggled to reach the crest of the hill, then, stumbling, fell to the ground. Mala tumbled from over his shoulder, falling heavily onto the grass of the knoll with a groan. The totem at the crest of the hill was dark, its inner glow vanished and its ever-watchful eyes now dark and useless.
Don’t stop. . don’t look. .
But he did look. He dragged his feet back under him and, standing on quivering legs, turned to gaze on the House of Sha-Timuran.
It was twilight, and the ruin stood out harshly against the dim glow of the horizon beyond. Flames had engulfed nearly all of the subatria, the brilliant tongues of orange and yellow boiling up around the fallen avatria. The oncefloating structure had fallen and was now leaning obscenely to one side, the petals of its exterior curves now broken and crumbling under their own weight. A great crack split the structure from the flames about the subatria wall to the shattered lattice of its peak. The avatria itself was burning, too. . the ornate polished woods of its interior quickly giving themselves over to the flames. Black, greasy smoke rolled upward, staining the deep blue of the evening sky and blotting out the stars as they tried to appear.
Drakis’ gaze was drawn across the horizon. Other columns of smoke drifted into the sky.
The House of Timuran was not alone in its fall. Tajeran, too, was burning and at least a half dozen other Houses beyond.
Someone behind him spoke. “They’ll be coming soon.”
Drakis started at the sound, wheeling around as he instinctively readied his blade.
The shapeshifter held up two of his hands, their palms out in a sign of submission. “Relax, Drakis. . I’m Ethis.”
Drakis squinted. A tall chimerian stood facing him, his blank features lit by the orange, shifting light of the burning mansion.
“Who?” Drakis blurted.
“Ethis,” the chimerian continued, his voice sounding oddly calm against the chaos of the burning ruins beyond. “We fought together-I was in your Octian.”