I coughed as Edgar pushed against the ceiling and dirt poured down into my face and eyes. Once I’d blinked the dust away, a square of midnight star-studded sky shone down on us.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“This arm of the catacombs ends where the wild hawthorn thatches begin,” he said. “There’s another arm that comes up in the floor of the old mill, but if you ever come back this way, you won’t be able to find them—they are impossible to detect from the outside. The catacombs were still more scattered throughout the flax fields and the sheep pastures on the south side of the Stella, but many of them have caved in over the years, as they were never used as much by the brethren. A boat taken from the mill could get an accused witch down to the Calidi Bay, where the fugitive could buy passage to the isles or even to the continent. Heading north from here, escapees would have the cover of the hawthorns most of the way to the Ebonwilde, where an old road—rough, it was, but travelable—led right up to Achlev’s Forest Gate. Now, listen. I don’t know where you’re going, or what you intend to do next. But if you head a half mile straight north from here, there’s a rock marked with the seven stars of the great bear constellation. Beneath it, we keep a cache of food and supplies always ready. You’re welcome to it, should you head that way.”
“Thank you, Father,” I said. “Empyrea keep you.”
?
?And you.” He hunkered down, putting his hands together. “Are you ready?”
I let him boost me up over the edge of the opening, and no sooner had I rolled away than I heard the scrape of the door sliding back into place.
I closed my eyes and breathed in the cold night air, thankful to be back in the open once again. But my relief didn’t last; it wasn’t more than a few minutes before an irritated voice came from above me, and I opened my eyes to find an irritated face to match.
“There she is,” Onal said testily. “Lying spread-eagle in a field like she hasn’t a care in the world while her brute of a bodyguard drags me from my bed in the middle of the night.” She was wearing her best blouse, the one with the silver button at the collar, and her most vicious scowl.
Kellan was only a few paces away, wearily leading two stout Greythorne horses and Madrona. “She complained every step of the way, Aurelia. Every single step. It’s a wonder, when we passed the village, we weren’t immediately apprehended by Tribunal clerics. Please, for the love of all the holy stars, tell her where we’re going and why she needs to come with us. She won’t hear it from me.”
Onal growled. “I think I got the gist of what he was trying to tell me: Zan touched you, you died, then Simon died, but before he went off into the hereafter, he said I have to go hightailing it who-knows-where to do who-knows-what, at the risk of my own life. For an outlaw. That’s right; you’re an outlaw, Aurelia. Which means that if I go with you, or cooperate with you at all, then I will be an outlaw. At my age? It’s far too late for me to be considering a career change at this stage in my life.”
I shot Kellan an apologetic look before addressing Onal, who had crossed her bony arms in front of her. “I have to find a way to break my bond with Kellan before I die,” I said. “Simon said that the only person who can help me do this is the witch of the Ebonwilde woods, and that you are the only person who can help me find her.”
Onal’s mouth screwed to one side. “You’ve got a long time yet before you have to worry about dying, girl. Decades. And he’s a soldier. Worse, he’s one of those sickening noble and dedicated soldiers, and they always die the quickest. Odds are, he’ll beat you to the grave anyway.” She turned on her heel as if to head back the way she came.
“I don’t have decades,” I called to her retreating form. “That’s what Simon told me.”
She froze. “How long do you have, then?”
“Until the next blood moon. I have to die, or the Malefica will be let loose in the living world. And I refuse to take Kellan with me. Just like you said, he’s noble. Dedicated. And he’s exactly the person I want watching over my brother when I’m gone.” I swallowed the hard lump forming in my throat. “Please, Onal. If you know how to reach the witch of the Ebonwilde, help me find her.”
Finally, Onal said, “All right. Yes. I’ll do it. But be warned: She doesn’t like strangers. Or visitors.” Onal paused. “Or people in general.”
“You think she’s not good with people?” I asked.
Unsmiling, Onal replied, “She lacks my effervescent charm. As you will see.”
* * *
We stayed off the roads, riding through thorny hawthorn thickets for most of the night in hopes that any of the Tribunal’s fearsome hounds would be less likely to follow us if they happened to catch our scent. We stopped only once, to locate the supply cache Edgar had told me about. It was a good thing we did, too; we left Greythorne with little more than the clothes on our backs. The waterskin, tin cups, dried meat, and half dozen potatoes were a great boon.
We made a hasty camp among the hawthorns a few hours before sunrise. I took first watch. When I was sure the other two were asleep, I filled one of the cups with water from the skin and then took out my knife.
I pricked my finger, hissing at the momentary pain, and let a tiny drop of blood break the water’s surface. I was out of practice; I could feel the magic, but I resented the hurt it required. It made it hard to concentrate, but I conjured Zan’s face in my mind and did my best to hold it there.
“Ibi mihi et ipse est,” I whispered. Show me.
The blood bloomed in the water, tiny red threads that spread and swirled into an image of Zan riding away from the Quiet Canary on the back of a piebald mare I felt certain belonged to Hicks. But the image was fleeting, gone before I could even determine how fast he was going, or in which direction.
“No, no, no,” I said, frustration finally spilling over. “Show me what I need to see.”
At that demand, and in the very last second, a single image did form in the reflection: another horse and rider—but not Zan. This one was hooded and hulking, his steed rearing on its back legs, striking at the air.
When the second vision was gone, the only image left in the water was my dark-haired reflection.
One or the other, she whispered.
I gave a start, knocking the cup over as I jumped away from it. The pink-tinged water spilled into the dirt, and the cup spun like a silver top in the moonlight.