“Joel’s last words were for me to pray on the behalf of all those who had died that terrible night. He asked me to pray that the good spirits welcome them all and give them peace at last.

“I promised that I would use my abilities to help guide them all into the spirit world. He smiled, and as he thanked me and squeezed my hand . . . his last breath of life left him and he was gone.

“On my knees, as the gentle rain began, I hunched over him and rained my own tears down on this poor man for all that he and the others had suffered, wept for what might have been had we each had the courage to let the past go and embraced what life still had to offer.”

Magda understood all too well that desolate agony of loss.

“So, there I was beside the road to Whitney with the dead body of my friend, while back in Grandengart lay the corpses of my charges, my town. The corpses of the people I had failed.”

Magda laid a hand on Isidore’s arm. “You did not fail them, Isidore. Emperor Sulachan’s minions are as powerful as they are ruthless. Joel was right, you could have done nothing to stop it. Don’t take on the guilt that rightly belongs to the killers.

“Not many would have shown the courage you did in such a difficult situation. You did your people the greatest kindness possible. You were there for them to end their suffering when there was nothing else that could have been done.”

“I thought so too. But as it turns out, after reaching Whitney and burying Joel, that was only the beginning of the nightmare.”

Chapter 27

Magda stroked a hand along the silky back of the sleeping cat curled up in her lap. The cat’s contented purring served to emphasize the stretch of empty silence.

“The beginning of the nightmare?” Magda finally asked. “What do you mean?”

Isidore took a deep breath. Her shoulders slumped as she let out a weary sigh. “After Joel died, I managed to lift him up and over the back of the horse.” She flicked a hand in an aside. “I used to be stronger than I am as you see me now. I’ve lost weight and muscle since then. I find that I rarely have much of an appetite.

“Anyway, I rode most of that night, stopping only for a brief nap when neither I nor the horse could go on. It was the first sleep I’d had since arriving home to Grandengart. It was also the first of the terrible dreams that haunt me to this day. The short rest was at least enough for me to be able to resume the journey. By late the next afternoon I finally reached the wheat fields and scattered farms at the outskirts of Whitney.