Harbend recalled staring at Trai's ruined body. The fire mage was still alive. Harbend knew, somewhere deep inside he ought to feel elated, but there was only an empty void. Trai should have been dead now, but Neritan had used her powers, and now she looked lifeless as well. Harbend shivered at the thought of any wound severe enough to force a Magehealer into unconsciousness.

Someone had to bring help, and he should be that someone. This was when he needed to be strong, but that emptiness held him hostage. Right now he wanted someone else to take command.

Harbend forced himself to take a step forward. The snow was darker now from days of feet trampling it. The caravan must have waited for them. He wondered if they were worried. What a strange thought.

Of course they are not. They believe I've brought Arthur back. I should have. It was my responsibility.

There was another problem he had brought upon them. While they were searching for Arthur the caravan wasn't moving, and even with the help of the escort sending out more hunting parties supplies were getting strained. A few more days and complaints would spread rampant as food had to be rationed.

He crossed the dirty snow in search of his own wagon. Maybe he'd be able to change his clothes without causing another disaster. He found his wagon as he had left it. It was all too orderly to offer any substantial amount of diversion for him, and he was soon standing on the ground again knowing he had to return to the accusing looks.

This was, as his father would have said, what happened if you didn't lead a proper life, and Harbend knew his had been all but proper. Then the memory of his meeting with Uncle Ramdar nudged at him, and Harbend admitted that at least the head of their family had decided this was indeed his proper path. Small comfort right now and here.

Unable to delay the inevitable questions he and left. He had brought them to this. Now he would have to take responsibility for it. Somewhat strengthened in his resolve he went to find Trai. The wounded first. Questions could wait until later. Trai ought to be among the magehealers, and Neritan with him.

Harbend found his horse and saddled it. Without Escha he needed to ride all the way to the circle of wagons were the mages from Ri Khi camped together.

Mind still full of his own failure Harbend arrived at one of the rearmost circles and dismounted. He walked the last bit with leaden steps, and when he climbed the wagon shown to him by a young, black haired groom Harbend didn't know what to say.

The scene did nothing to dispel his dark thoughts. Escha crying, despair seeping through the Khar. Nothing left of the mighty mage but a frightened child.

I have never seen him like this.

Harbend wanted to comfort Escha, but how? Harbend looked down at the prone body. A miracle Trai was still alive. Harbend couldn't understand how anyone had been able to gather such a mass of scars, but memories of the burning Khar more than hinted at the reason.

Neritan had yet to awake, but at least she had been joined by another Magehealer.

Harbend wondered briefly what kind of people Arthur had managed to surround himself with during their short stay at the Roadhouse. Mages, all three of them, and powerful ones as well. Still, Trai's body told the telltale signs that power didn't always come with invincibility.

"How is he?" Harbend asked.

"He will survive. Magehealer Hwain is very powerful. None of us could have done what she did."

Harbend studied the woman who had answered his question. A Magehealer, and one he didn't know by name. That added to his discomfort as well. He should have known. Apart from Neritan they were only three, and any mage who dedicated her life to the healing of others at the cost of her own pain had the right to command more respect than to remain a nameless resource.

He'd become his profession and lost some of his humanity in the trade. Was it too late to revert that transition? He searched his surroundings to distract his thoughts. Magehealers didn't crowd their wagons with goods the way other traders did, and they weren't supposed to. Most of their earnings were made during the journeys they embarked upon for different reasons, and the caravan was no exception.

Despite this Harbend could make out crates obviously meant for trade, and even though he couldn't be certain he guessed their contents to be dried herbs unusual or nonexistent in Braka. magehealers were a kind of their own, and Harbend assumed the exchange would be on an herb for herb basis rather than money. As healers they were certain to want more items for their profession than any amount of wealth. Healing people wasn't a career anyone chose for becoming rich, and he couldn't imagine a more uncomfortable way to make a living. From what he'd learned they didn't really heal their patients. Rather they gradually transferred whatever had befallen the one in need to themselves and then sped up their own healing process. No wonder they preferred herbs in cases not requiring such a ghastly treatment.

Beds and stretchers lined the wagon, and one of the former was occupied by a woman who must have had some kind of serious mishap during their travels. He didn't know of what kind, and he didn't care to ask.

Then, all of a sudden, Neritan rose as did Trai.

"That was, ah, unpleasant," she said.

"What... where am I?" Trai murmured, unsuccessfully trying to raise his arms.

"I have sedated him. We'd better explain where we are before he tries to attack anyone. He still believes us where he went unconscious," Neritan explained when Escha gave her a worried look.

"Trai, we are safe. You are with the caravan." Harbend felt strangely compelled to be the one who came with the reassurance. He smiled weakly at the mage and turned to Escha. "I will leave you two alone now. You can call upon me at any time you wish."

Receiving a grateful look he didn't think he deserved Harbend left the wagon and climbed out into the wintry cold. Rather the cold of outside than the one freezing his heart. He put one foot in front of the other with a determination sprung from desperation and headed away from the circle of wagons.

Alone, he needed to be alone with the snow and the sky. Maybe there was redemption, but he would have to find it for himself. If it existed he didn't know, and if it did he was even less certain he deserved it.

It was late afternoon but still light enough for him to see the tracks from wagons driven to form the circle. He struggled further away until he had to trample unbroken snow beneath him and no longer saw any of the wagons. The pillar of smoke was still visible behind him though. Harbend knew it would be night and morning again before he could walk far enough not to see it any longer. This had to do. He was alone enough to be able to contemplate his deeds and decisions, and he slowly walked aimlessly with his misgivings and the sound of snow breaking under his feet as his only companions.

***

"How did you do it?" Escha's voice was hoarse with fatigue born of fear.

"I transferred his wounds. He should be fine. Better than before as I didn't bother to sort out which scars fresh enough to heal he had received from previous mishaps," Neritan answered.

"Those were burn wounds. The pain should prevent you from concentrating enough to use the gift." Escha shifted uneasily on his seat.

"Let me make one thing clear," Neritan said, her voice taking on a sharp edge. "You may think yourself to be the greatest Transport Khar in living memory, and as far as you short lived ones go it may very well be that you're correct, but I've met mages with powers you couldn't imagine." Neritan gave him a tired smile while she gathered up hair that had become tangled during her healing sleep. "I may not be the greatest Magehealer living, but I still have few peers. It wasn't easy. If I hadn't been here he'd be dead now."

"You risked killing yourself?"

"Don't be stupid. If there had been any risk to my life I would have let him die. I'm far too valuable to my people to die for one of you, unless you're a taleweaver, like the one two anointed Khars and hundreds of soldiers managed to misplace."

Escha stared at her. There was a coldness in her scaring him, and now he knew why some of the golden mages were thought of as arrogant. They were rumored to consider themselves peerless, and now he had seen that rumor come true.

The finest of the magehealers were to be found in Khi, but he knew she hadn't thought of any of them when she referred to her peers. All golden mages were associated with either the tower in Kastari or the one in Gaz. The tower of Khars in Khanati were only occasionally visited by one of them.

"I thank you nonetheless, Khar Hwain," Escha said at last, uncertain if it was the correct title or not.

"As you should do."

Escha decided against saying anything in response. Instead he turned his attention to Trai who still looked disorientated. His face did indeed show fewer scars than before. There was love there as well, and relief. Escha forgot where he was and who were there with them. With desperation pushing away all sense of proper behavior he went to his knees and hugged Trai to himself afraid to ever let go.

Too close, he'd been too close to losing the only one who really mattered, but for now everything was good and life smiled upon the two of them again. The shock, and anger, Escha knew, would come later.

"I'll never understand your kind," Neritan said as she rose to leave. "There are beautiful women enough in Khanati for the both of you. Well..." She shook her head and climbed out of the wagon, the other magehealers following her.

***

Harbend bowed as Neritan entered. "What is the reason for your presence this late?"

She bowed in return, more of a nod than a bow, but at least a token admittance that she was a guest in his private quarters, as private as they could be in a simple wagon.

"I would have your help in locating the taleweaver," she said after she'd seated herself on a chest.

"Of course, even though I fail to see how I can be of any help to you."

"You know the man better than anyone else here. I've already got a picture of where he must be, but I need to know how his mind is working to know more exactly."

Harbend frowned. Did he really know that much of the man he considered a friend? "I will try to help, but I cannot promise it will be enough."

"I believe that I'll be the one to decide if your help is enough or not. Your promises are of little concern to me." She displayed an air of self-confidence he hadn't expected, but then who knew what to expect from one of the golden?

Harbend looked away, knowing his eyes would have shown a sour enmity had she seen them.

"Your view of me is of little concern as well. I need your help, not your approval," Neritan said as if she had read his mind. Gods! She probably had.

"What do you want me to do?" he said, more to let words fly than wanting any answer to his question.

"I want you to sit still and keep your mouth shut. Your insignificant ranting disturbs me, and I need to be concentrated for what I have in mind."

"Listen here, madam, I am not..."

"Silence, I said. Think of a good trade or something else your limited mind is capable of grasping. I don't have time for the shortsighted wantonness of your kind."

Harbend wanted to lash out at her in any way possible at that time, but recognition of his failures intervened, and he did as told.

They spent a long time in silence. He didn't know how long, and afterwards there was nothing but dreams and vague memories telling him it had ever happened. What he did know, memories or not, was that the golden mage knew more of his secrets than maybe he himself did after they were done. Altogether it was an experience he didn't care much to have repeated.

"Find the others! You can tell them where we go now," Neritan said when she was finally done, and with those words she left without devoting a single moment of explanation to him.

Harbend felt drained, but eventually he did her bidding and rode in search of Nakora, Escha and Trai.

***

"I think I know where they are," Harbend said. "We are needed again."

Escha threw him a look, turned to Trai and they shared a glance before nodding. That only left Nakora. Harbend almost didn't dare to meet her eyes.

"Well, are you going to ask me or not?"

He did.

She hugged him in response. That was a welcome surprise. A warm surprise for a frozen heart.

"We trust you. I trust you," Nakora whispered.

Her words were balm to his mind. Harbend found strength in that trust.

"Escha, we are ready when you are," he croaked.

"Then, Lord Garak, we jump."