The fox-masked woman barked words Anna could not understand. Half the company laughed. The old man frowned. The woman in the feathered cloak raised a hand to silence them, but she appeared neither pleased nor offended.
Still, no one replied, so Hugh went on.
“This is the child of Prince Sanglant, your kinsman. I am called Hugh, born of Austra, named lord and presbyter by the right of my noble lineage and God’s blessing. I claim right of speech with your leader.”
“I speak,” said the one wearing the feathered cloak. She spoke in comprehensible Wendish, tinged with a Salian flavor. “Few among humankind know the name of Uapeani-kazonkansi-a-lari. So I told the scouts, who came to me and reported that a group of warriors led by a man with hair the color of sun had come to our border and asked to speak to the woman who chose that name. The priests wish to see you all brought at once for sacrifice. But I said differently. I told them, better to hear what the one with hair the color of sun has to say and kill him after, than to kill him first and never hear his words.”
“Indeed,” agreed Hugh affably. “It is foolish to throw away perfectly good knowledge out of spite.”
She flicked her palm in a dismissive gesture. “Say what you have come to say.”
“I speak to the mother of Prince Sanglant.” It wasn’t a question.
Now Anna saw the resemblance not so much in features as in the way a smile creased that woman’s face. The prince’s smile bore more honest amusement—her smile was cold—but nevertheless the expression was the same.
Hugh nodded, as if in acknowledgment of that smile. “I am come here to offer you an alliance, Uapeani-kazonkansi-a-lari.”
That startled them!
They broke out talking between themselves, commenting and arguing, but when she raised the back of her hand to them they quieted.
“How do you know that name?” she asked, her tone more like a threat than curiosity. “Did my son tell you?”
“No. A man became known to me who had knowledge of you, whom he called Kansi-a-lari. He was called Zacharias.”
This smile was softer and more genuine. “The-One-Who-Is-More-Clever-Than-He-Looks. Still, your pronunciation is almost as good as his. Where is he now?”
“He is dead, caught within the spell on the night the Crown of Stars crowned the heavens. On the night your people and this land returned to Earth.”
“Perhaps not as clever as I thought, then,” she remarked in a careless way.
Dead! This was the first news Anna had heard of Brother Zacharias since he had fled the prince’s retinue at Sordaia. So he was a traitor! He had fled directly to Lord Hugh. Her heart burned with anger, and she was glad—glad—that he was dead. He deserved it for betraying them!
“Clever enough,” said Hugh with a wry smile.
“Why will you, our enemy, offer us an alliance?”
“In what way am I your enemy?” he asked amiably. “The war you speak of took place so long ago it has passed out of human memory. I know nothing of the exiles. I am not at war with you. Nor are any of my people.”
She shook her head. “My uncle says that your people invaded the woodlands where his people bided for long years.”
“How can that be? No Ashioi survived on Earth.”
“They survived in the shadows.”
“In the shadows?” He considered, eyes almost closing as if he was thinking hard. With a slight nod, he went on. “If the memory is still fresh in your eyes, let me say that nevertheless I offer you an alliance.”
“What have you to offer us?”
Hugh still held onto Blessing, who had not moved. Strangely the woman who was Sanglant’s mother had glanced at the child only once and by no other sign showed any interest in her. Not the rest, though. Anna was accustomed to observing without being herself observed, because she was not important enough that noble folk took notice of her. Both the handsome man and the old man studied Blessing with alert interest. The woman standing at the side of the old man studied each person in Hugh’s party. Indeed, that woman caught Anna’s gaze and, for a moment, examined her so closely that Anna felt a fluttering sense of dread in her own stomach. She had a sudden horrible feeling that if their shadows grew long enough to touch those of the human party, they would gobble them up and swallow them alive. She clutched her hands together to stop herself from trembling.
“I can offer a weapon to you, if you are still bent on war.”
She laughed. “Your words make no sense, Golden One. First you say there cannot be war between your kind and mine because too many generations have passed. Then you say that you will offer us a sword with which to gain an advantage over our enemies. Which is it?”
“You came to Henry’s court in later days, only a few years ago, and warned him of a great cataclysm. Is it not true that you offered him at that time an alliance, while he stood in a position of strength?”
“Now he is dead,” she observed. “You know a great deal, Pale Sun. I like you.”