The Gathering Storm (Crown of Stars 5)

Liath groaned and sat up.

“Liath!” Breschius loomed over her, a slice of apple crushed between his fingers.

“Don’t look at me so! I’m well enough. Weaving the crown taxed my strength, that’s all.”

“Do you know where are we?” asked Bertha.

“Ai, God. I fear I do. We’ve come to the ruins of Verna. In one night we’ve come from the uttermost eastern wilderness all the way to the centralmost massif of the Alfar Mountains.”

Bertha whistled appreciatively. “It’s true that with such power a man could strike all unexpected at his enemies. Eagles could cross vast distances with only a few strides.”

“Except for this matter of days and months passing in that night,” said Breschius, apparently continuing a conversation Liath’s waking had interrupted.

“When is it?” Liath demanded. “On this all our success depends.”

She set a hand on Breschius’ shoulder and stood. The earth stayed steady as she swept her gaze over the scene: Heribert’s fine hall was charred and fallen, the old tower was blasted with stones crumbled at its base, and the sheds had burned down. Soldiers picked grapes in the riot of greenery that marked the vineyard, untended for several years. Fir and spruce covered the upper slopes of the valley except where fire had ripped through, leaving the skeletons of trees. Three mountains, Youngwife, Monk’s Ridge, and Terror, towered above, their immense heights more rock than snow.

“Summer,” she said. From farther away, she heard the splash of water over rocks; many streams drained down into the valley to feed the overgrown garden and the pond, hidden behind a grove of leafy beech. The sun stood high overhead.

“It is summer, my lady,” agreed Brother Breschius, “or so it seems.”

Their party had not set up camp, but the men had taken advantage of the slope and breadth of the valley to graze, water, and rest the horses. Sorgatani’s wagon rested in the middle of a sward of new grass; her cohort of Kerayit warriors ranged around like a fence, although obviously the marchlanders had been warned to stay clear.

Liath’s Jinna servants, Gnat and Mosquito, knelt a stone’s toss from her, trembling like dogs straining against a leash; it was only after she nodded at them that they settled back on their heels to wait with more patience. Sorgatani’s young servingwoman crouched in the shade of the next apple tree, watching Liath. Heat rippled through the mountain air, or was that an aery daimone? She had never been able to see them before, but now she detected flickers of movement.

“We arrived at dawn,” said Bertha, “and you slept all morning.”

“We’ll have to wait for nightfall,” Liath said. “I’ll try to speak to Hathui with Eagle’s Sight, and after that I’ll measure the stars. We must decide whether we march, or attempt the crowns again.”

“If I recall the lay of the land correctly” mused Bertha, “we can scarcely come much closer to Aosta than this and still tread quietly.”

“Nay.” She shook her head, disappointed with herself. “Had I more experience weaving the crowns, we would not have landed here. I have seen the Crown of Stars laid out across the land. South and east of here, near the shore of the Middle Sea, lies the central jewel of that crown. That is where we must go, because Anne will go there as well. If we are not too late—if this is only a few months after we set out from the east—then there is time, a full year or more.”

Breschius licked the sticky remains of the apple off his fingers. “We could march through Aosta and along the eastern shore of the sea to seek this crown.”

“So we could. And fight every step of the way, first through Aosta and then into Dalmiaka, which is ruled by the Arethousans. Should we survive, we’ll have lost the element of surprise. That is all that gives us an advantage. I’ll observe the stars tonight while the army rests and prepares. Tomorrow night we cross again.”

“I pray you, my lady,” said Breschius softly, “teach me how to calculate the date by means of the stars. I know that when the Dragon rises at dusk it is spring-tide and that the Child rises to the zenith at midnight during autumn. Mok rides around the Houses of the Night every twelve years, and the Evening Star and the Morning Star are the same and rise and set according to a regular pattern. Can you teach me?”

She smiled at the frater. His answering smile gave his face a liveliness that revealed his strong heart, his courage, and an affectionate warmth that brought a touch of red to her own cheeks, Seeing that he was a comely man, if rather old—certainly past forty.

“Yes, Brother. I will need my own schola of mathematici if I am to combat Anne.”

o;Don’t look at me so! I’m well enough. Weaving the crown taxed my strength, that’s all.”

“Do you know where are we?” asked Bertha.

“Ai, God. I fear I do. We’ve come to the ruins of Verna. In one night we’ve come from the uttermost eastern wilderness all the way to the centralmost massif of the Alfar Mountains.”

Bertha whistled appreciatively. “It’s true that with such power a man could strike all unexpected at his enemies. Eagles could cross vast distances with only a few strides.”

“Except for this matter of days and months passing in that night,” said Breschius, apparently continuing a conversation Liath’s waking had interrupted.

“When is it?” Liath demanded. “On this all our success depends.”

She set a hand on Breschius’ shoulder and stood. The earth stayed steady as she swept her gaze over the scene: Heribert’s fine hall was charred and fallen, the old tower was blasted with stones crumbled at its base, and the sheds had burned down. Soldiers picked grapes in the riot of greenery that marked the vineyard, untended for several years. Fir and spruce covered the upper slopes of the valley except where fire had ripped through, leaving the skeletons of trees. Three mountains, Youngwife, Monk’s Ridge, and Terror, towered above, their immense heights more rock than snow.

“Summer,” she said. From farther away, she heard the splash of water over rocks; many streams drained down into the valley to feed the overgrown garden and the pond, hidden behind a grove of leafy beech. The sun stood high overhead.