Page 93 of Grave Situation

Master pulls a face. “Politically, yes, I believe so. I don’t think anybody particularly cares that you were shot at?—”

“I’m touched.”

“—but the fact that amagewas shot at cannot be ignored. Especially when you were traveling under the aegis of the council. There will be a great deal of discussion, but ultimately, it’s likely the council will decide to use this to maneuver concessions from the temples.” He meets my gaze dead-on. “You’re not the only one who doesn’t like the way the priesthood has been behaving.”

That’s something, at least.

“Could you try to ensure that at least some of those concessions support our mission?” I request. “Not having to dodge priests would be a good start, but it would be even better if we could be assured lodging, board, and fresh supplies at every temple on the continent.”

He winces. “After you disrespected a high priestess and fled a convocation? Asking for welcome might be pushing things a bit far, Talon.”

“We’re on a holy quest,” I protest. “Also, if that’s not a possibility, the council needs to send us more money. I’d hoped to have found the champion by now, but it looks like we’ll be on the road for a while longer.” Dammit.

“I brought some for you, but yes—we’ll work something out,” Master promises. Across the circle, Arimen sits up. There’s a sweet smile on his face now, and he seems utterly relaxed. It’s the healer’s equivalent of a cup of soothing herbal tea, and far more effective. Some people say that chasing that feeling is what led to the development of certain recreational drugs. I think that’s a load of turds—most of those drugs are just mixtures of natural hallucinogens anyway, and any country person will tell you that idiots have been eating weird mushrooms since time began.

“Are you feeling better?” Jaimin asks as he and Coryn help Arimen back onto the log.

The boy nods eagerly. “Oh yes! I feel splendid!”

“Good.” The master healer watches his patient’s face carefully, so I do too, and I see it—the gradual easing of the relaxing effect. When Jaimin’s done, Arimen looks tense once more, but at least he doesn’t seem like he’s going to pass out again.

In fact, he bravely squares his shoulders and says, “I think I may have misheard what you said.”

“Nope,” Coryn announces cheerfully. “You didn’t. The stone has chosen you.”

“But…” He shakes his head. “That’s impossible.”

“And yet,” Jaimin says, “it’s true.”

“B-But I’m nobody! I can’t go on a quest.” His eyes widen. “Am I the sacrifice?”

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. This feels an awful lot like the first day of classes, and I didn’t expect to go through that again until next autumn.

“What sacrifice?” Hearne asks, bewildered. “There’s no sacrifice.”

“Are you asking if we plan to sacrifice you to the gods?” Kanesha seems equally confused. “Because you’re an acolyte—you know our gods don’t require sacrifices, right?”

“No, I mean… in every story of great quests, there’s always a sacrifice. And if the creation stone has sent you on a quest to find a champion to defeat evil, then this has to be agreatquest. Which means there’s a sacrifice,” he explains. “Someone in the group has to die.”

“You mean other than my sister?”

The question falls into a silence nobody wants to break. Arimen pales again, his eyes locked on me, and he begins to tremble, all signs of his courage gone.

“My sister, Tia, the dragon rider, is dead,” I say, the words as hard and piercing as crossbow bolts. “Is that not enough of a sacrifice for you? Do you feel that your life is worth more than hers?”

“N-N-N-N I-I-I-I,” he stutters.

“I’m sure that’s not what Arimen meant,” Jaimin says quietly, and Arimen nods frantically.

“I didn’t! I s-swear! I-I-I’m s-sorry about your sister! I-I-I—” He breaks down into tears.

“I think we’re done with this conversation,” I continue in the same hard tone. I don’t have time to baby him, and when—not if—we get attacked by zombies again, he needs to not assume he’s some kind of godsforsaken sacrifice and let them kill him. “You’re coming with us. I don’t know yet for what purpose, but until we figure it out, your job is to keep up, pull your weight, and not die. And stay out of my way,” I add. “Coryn will tell you everything else you need to know.” I stand. “Rider Master, Rider Kanesha, would you excuse me? I’d like to speak with my master before the pyre ceremony.”

Hearne inclines his head. “Of course. We need to speak with Leicht anyway.”

I know from what Tia told me that when the riders need to speak with a specific dragon, they do so via their own bonded dragons—an odd relay of messages, similar to what children do when they stubbornly refuse to speak directly to someone. It still concerns me, though, that they might guess?—

“Nobody will know unless I choose to tell them.”

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