‘Deniers, one presumes,’ said Finarra, studying the wretched men and women. ‘But few of them old, few of them children, and no newborn. There is something here, Warden, that is not right. Select one — that thin man who’s twice looked at us — and bring him here. I will have the truth from him.’
‘Yes sir.’ Faror Hend dismounted and made her way to the bedraggled man her captain had singled out. He saw her coming and seemed to sag. When she gestured, he pulled away from the others and limped over on bandaged feet.
‘Do not fear us,’ Faror Hend said to him. ‘We are Wardens and would hear what news you have to tell.’
The man squinted at her, and then shrugged.
Together they re-joined Finarra Stone.
The captain wasted little time. ‘You are east of the monasteries, sir. What refuge do you people seek?’
‘They sent us away,’ said the man.
‘Who?’
‘The Shake. But first, they took our children. That was the bargain they offered. Food for us, and the promise that our young ones would be safe with them.’
‘And the elderly?’
The man shook his head, and then smiled as if at a joke. ‘Our mothers and fathers were of the wood and the river. They chose to remain. Now they are all dead.’
‘The Wardens cannot keep you,’ Finarra Stone said to him.
He shrugged again.
‘They can, perhaps, protect you from bandits and… other enemies. But against starvation and the cold of winter, they cannot save you.’
‘We have nowhere else to go.’
‘Are there many more of you on this road?’
The man nodded, shifting weight from one bloodied foot to the other.
‘You may go, sir,’ said Finarra Stone.
They watched him hobble his way back to the ragged column. The breath hissed from the captain. ‘They took the children.’
‘Sir,’ said Faror Hend. ‘You carry word to Sheccanto and Skelenal that the Wardens are pledged to them. But if Calat Hustain knew of this — that the Mother and Father of the cult were turning away their flock, and making of children bitter coin…’
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‘Deniers, one presumes,’ said Finarra, studying the wretched men and women. ‘But few of them old, few of them children, and no newborn. There is something here, Warden, that is not right. Select one — that thin man who’s twice looked at us — and bring him here. I will have the truth from him.’
‘Yes sir.’ Faror Hend dismounted and made her way to the bedraggled man her captain had singled out. He saw her coming and seemed to sag. When she gestured, he pulled away from the others and limped over on bandaged feet.
‘Do not fear us,’ Faror Hend said to him. ‘We are Wardens and would hear what news you have to tell.’
The man squinted at her, and then shrugged.
Together they re-joined Finarra Stone.
The captain wasted little time. ‘You are east of the monasteries, sir. What refuge do you people seek?’
‘They sent us away,’ said the man.
‘Who?’
‘The Shake. But first, they took our children. That was the bargain they offered. Food for us, and the promise that our young ones would be safe with them.’
‘And the elderly?’
The man shook his head, and then smiled as if at a joke. ‘Our mothers and fathers were of the wood and the river. They chose to remain. Now they are all dead.’
‘The Wardens cannot keep you,’ Finarra Stone said to him.
He shrugged again.
‘They can, perhaps, protect you from bandits and… other enemies. But against starvation and the cold of winter, they cannot save you.’
‘We have nowhere else to go.’
‘Are there many more of you on this road?’
The man nodded, shifting weight from one bloodied foot to the other.
‘You may go, sir,’ said Finarra Stone.
They watched him hobble his way back to the ragged column. The breath hissed from the captain. ‘They took the children.’
‘Sir,’ said Faror Hend. ‘You carry word to Sheccanto and Skelenal that the Wardens are pledged to them. But if Calat Hustain knew of this — that the Mother and Father of the cult were turning away their flock, and making of children bitter coin…’
‘We will deliver our message,’ Finarra said, gathering up the reins. Then she paused and looked across to Faror. ‘Forgive me, Warden, I have made of this journey a tense one, unpleasant. The waters are muddy between us, and I regret that.’
‘As do I, sir.’
‘But such things diminish before the plight of those we see here on this road.’
‘Yes sir.’
Finarra hesitated, and then said, ‘When you are done with the Hust Legion, Faror Hend, choose a place in which to wait.’
‘Sir?’
‘A place. Tell me of your choice before we part, and I will see to it that word will be sent to… to whomever you wish to know of it.’
Faror Hend held her captain’s gaze. ‘Sir, I will not desert the Wardens.’
‘Name a place, and tell me by whom you will have it known.’
‘Sir, if word must reach someone, it must be my betrothed. But I say again, I will not desert the Wardens.’
Finarra nodded. ‘I understand. Nevertheless, think of a place-’
‘A refuge.’
‘In the season to come, Faror Hend, love will need such refuges.’
Faror studied her captain for a time, and then nodded. ‘I will give it some thought, sir.’
‘Very good. Now, we shall have to ride overland — I expect this road to be impassable at least as far as Yannis Monastery.’
‘Could you have made such a bargain, sir?’
Finarra shot her a look. ‘I have never birthed a child, Warden, so I cannot say.’ Then she shook her head. ‘If they see no hope ahead, and yet are offered salvation for their children… well, what mother and what father would not sacrifice their own lives to save those of their children?’
‘The Shake well understood that, I think,’ Faror said. ‘Still. When I came upon one of their troops, in the wreckage of a bandit camp, it was said in passing that they had made a similar offer, only to have the mothers slit the throats of their own get.’
Finarra blinked. ‘That seems a selfish act.’
‘Perhaps, sir, some hold freedom higher than life itself.’
‘Well enough if that life is your own. I doubt a single child welcomed the blade’s kiss.’
Faror Hend fell silent, unable to argue against her captain’s words. But the recollection haunted her. They rode on for a time, slowly as the ground was uneven and stony. Then she said, ‘Sir, for nights afterwards, I dreamed of mothers and fathers killing their own children. But no bargains had been offered them, and no threat drew close to force their hands.’