Meri knew it was not the full power of the sea come hurtling toward him. He hoped never to behold or to encompass the full power of the sea. He closed his eye and relaxed his will, offering no resistance, and yet there was still a timeless and terrifying time when he felt stretched far too thin, diluted; the bits of himself mixed about indiscriminately—and then it was past, and he was whole.
Becca was lying among a litter of elitch leaves, still as a broken limb. For one heart-stopping moment, he did not see her aura, but by the time he had gathered her into his arms, it was manifest, flowing with all the blues of the sea and every conceivable color of leaf.
A chime struck, solemn as a heartbeat, and she stirred against him.
Meri? Her thought was bright and bracing, and he almost wept at its touch.
Yes?
What is that?
"The third call to the Constant," he said aloud, and looked about him, seeing nothing but littered leaves, and tousled flowers.
"Altimere?" She squirmed, and he helped her to sit up.
"I . . . don't . . . know. Surely, he wouldn't have sublimated—"
"Gone to dust," a growly voice said. The Brethren stepped out from behind the elitch, Nancy sitting at her ease on one hairy shoulder.
"Dust?" Becca repeated, and it shook its horns.
"Silly Gardener, asks for bright sight, and then doesn't look."
"Look at—" Her voice cut off in mid-question, and she stiffened in Meri's arms.
He followed her gaze, to the base of the bench beneath the elitch, and the modest pile of grey dust, wisping in the breeze like mist, already returning to the Vaitura.
She shuddered, and turned suddenly, pushing her face into his shoulder. He shivered as well, and put his cheek against her hair.
"Are you sorry?" he asked, though the sense he received through their bond was . . . deeper.
"No," she whispered fiercely. "I am not sorry. I just wish—that it hadn't needed to be done."
"Aye," he said softly. "We all wish that." He shivered again, his arms tightening around her. "He drained you so quickly, I thought you were gone before even I felt your touch." He laughed, shakily. "Two fools—and they will name us heroes."
"They will name you world breakers, if we do not make haste!" the Brethren growled. "The call has come three times."
"Yes." Becca sighed, and he felt her will firm. "We should finish it."
"Must finish it," he corrected, and the two of them scrambled to their feet, muddy, and weary as they were.
"The Queen will be happy to see us!" the Brethren said, sounding pleased with itself as they moved toward the gate at the bottom of the garden.
"I am certain that she will be," Meri answered, feeling Becca's fingers 'round his.
Ahead, the gate opened.
"Well!" Sian put her hands on her hips and looked down her long nose at them.
"Diathen our gentle cousin dispatched me to gather up Altimere, who dances on the edge of being tardy to his place. Imagine my surprise, dear Cousin Meri, to arrive amidst such a raising of power as I would not have imagined to exist, outside of the old tales of the Elders at their height." She shook her head. "Hast seen Altimere?"
"Altimere is dead," Becca said baldly. "His power has returned to the Vaitura."
The Engenium inclined her head politely. "Then my task is completed," she said, turning away.
"Not quite," Meri said.
She sighed, proud shoulders dropping for so brief an instant one might have supposed it an illusion.
"Why, how may I serve you, Cousin Meri?"
"By acting as our escort to the Constant."
Sian looked at him over her shoulder, sea-colored eyes bland. "Under what guise do you go to the Queen and the Constant, Meripen Vanglelauf?"
"As heroes," he said calmly, and moved his hand. "All four of us."
There was a pause, and then a sigh.
"Very well," Sian said. "You look the part, at least."