The weight came down on Corvin like a falling mountain.
He had felt it once before, on his own crossing. But then it had been his own people, and they had been carrying him back. This was twelve thousand strangers from an empire he had spent his whole life distrusting. And until a moment ago, they had all been on the back of one small old woman.
His knees hit the road of nothing. His frozen arm screamed in its sling. Every breath felt like lifting a stone.
Beside him, the Matriarch of Duskspire gasped. Her head came up. For the first time in what must have been hours, she straightened her back an inch.
"What did you do?" she whispered.
"I took some," Corvin said through his teeth. "That's all. I took some."
"You can't carry it."
"I know," said Corvin. "That's why I brought help."
He twisted around on his knees.
