Reave the Just and Other Tales (56 page)

Tep Longeur and my rescuer stood with me to ensure that I did not fall again. The overseer appeared haggard in the early light, haunted by harsh recollections. From time to time, however, he smiled—wanly, perhaps, but without coercion.

The stranger’s shirt hung in strips from his shoulders, revealing the aftermath of Sher Abener’s bloody work. But his wounds had been treated with the same balm which eased my hurts, and had already begun to heal. I suspected that before this day ended his chest would show new scars rather than recent cuts. If his power could grant me such a swift recovery from my burns, it could surely relieve him of the necromancer’s malign weaving.

Despite the damage he had endured, his gaze as he greeted the dawn suggested eagerness.

No one moved upon the avenue. The day lay before us, rich with untouched possibilities.

My rescuer raised his features to the sun and seemed to scent the air. Then he informed us, “The Thal has indeed fled. Apparently his fears were too strong for him, as the necromancer suggested.”

How he gained this knowledge was another amazement into which I did not inquire.

After a glance in my direction, he continued, “His departure opens the way for a new master. I do not doubt that the man who defeated Sher Abener will be able to assume the rule of Benedic without opposition.”

I nodded as though I understood. “You mean yourself, of course.” It might be pleasant to have a Thal who deserved respect.

But the stranger laughed. “I do not.” He turned more fully toward me, so that I had some difficulty avoiding the vividness of his gaze. “I mean you. You need something to
do,
my friend. You waste yourself on ease.

“In any event”—again he laughed—“Tep Longeur is a far better merchant than you will ever be. The Thal’s palace would be more suitable for you, I think. You have the makings of a ruler much superior to the last one.”

I considered this notion foolish in the extreme. Perhaps for that reason, I did not scorn it.

Without awaiting a reply, the stranger announced, “Farewell. I have repaid my debt.”

At once, he left my side and walked away. As he strode off into the dawn, a spring lifted his steps, and his arms seemed to swing him along as though his veins were full of anticipation.

When he had passed beyond sight along the avenue, Tep Longeur asked gruffly, “Did that make any sense to you at all, Sher Urmeny?”

“Not a whit,” I admitted. Then I shrugged. “But no matter. Sense, I find, is too highly regarded.”

Certainly I valued the memory of my own madness. And I enjoyed the sound of my own name.

“Come, Sher Longeur,” I proceeded. Despite my lingering hurts, I was overtaken by an immense contentment. Had I felt less weary, I might have burst into song. “If you consent to accept ownership of my merchantry and villa, you have much to do.”

Before he could protest, I explained, “Thal Urmeny of Benedic will have no time for such concerns.” I lacked the strength for outright laughter, but I managed an easy chuckle. “And doubtless he will demand compliance for his desires.”

My former overseer frowned until he saw that I jested. Then he relaxed. “Oh, very well, my lord,” he muttered in feigned vexation. “If you insist.”

Supporting me companionably upon his shoulder, he helped me find my way homeward.

Photo by Petra Hegger

Stephen R. Donaldson
is the author of the six volumes of
The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant
, a landmark in modern fantasy. Every volume, beginning with
Lord Foul’s Bane
in 1977, has been an international bestseller. Donaldson returned to the series with
The Runes of the Earth
in 2004. He lives in New Mexico. Visit his website at stephenrdonaldson.com.