The Gathering Storm (Crown of Stars 5)

She shut her eyes and said nothing, because she knew he was right. As much as he hated it, this was the only way.

“There remains one thing more, Holy One,” he said, unable to bear her silence and knowing that if Liath had a chance to speak he would weaken. He gestured toward the wagon.

“What of my daughter?”

Li’at’dano waited, and waited, but Liath neither spoke or opened her eyes. Tears wet her cheeks, but she made no sound, only sat there, rigid and suffering.

At last, the shaman inclined her head to Sanglant with a touch of disdain, yet just perhaps in the manner of a teacher acknowledging a pupil’s apt question. “I have pondered deeply about the child. It may be I have thought of a way that will give us time to save her.”

3

ALTHOUGH Anna was busy making ready to go, Matto still found time to pester her.

“Later, in the night, we could sneak out into the grass.”

“And be eaten by the griffins?”

“The prince did it. Out in the grass.”

She looked at him, and he flushed, shamefaced, and hoisted a chest into the back of one of the wagons.

Thiemo stalked over. “Are you bothering her?”

“Is it any of your business?”

They both seemed to have puffed themselves up with air, trying to look bigger and bulkier than they were, although indisputably Matto had the broader shoulders while Thiemo stood half a hand taller.

“Stop it!” said Anna. “Does it matter that you’re jealous of each other? What will happen to us? Did you think of that? Will we abandon Blessing, or will we ask to stay with her?”

Stay with her. Out in this God-forsaken place, separated, perhaps forever, from their homeland.

She burst into tears. Matto and Thiemo shied away from her as she brushed past them, returning to the empty tent. Blessing had lain in the wagon all morning; no one wanted to disturb her, except for the healer who at intervals squeezed a bit of liquid down her throat through the reed.

What did it matter? Blessing was to be handed over to the centaurs, and the rest of them would journey back across the interminable steppe. It didn’t bear thinking of. She began rolling up the traveling pallets, the last thing to go.

“I will not abandon her. But I don’t want to stay here. I don’t want to stay.”

So it went with those who served. Yet she hadn’t fared any better before the Eika invaded Gent, when she had lived under her uncle’s harsh care. The Eika invasion had freed her from her uncle’s house, but hiding in Gent had not made her and Matthias more comfortable. Quite the contrary. Matthias had been eager to apprentice himself out as soon as he was given the opportunity; he saw the worth of an orderly existence, with the promise of a meal every day and shelter over his head at night. War and plague and famine might afflict him—there was no defense against acts of God—but being a member of Mistress Suzanne’s household gave him a measure of security.

Hadn’t God wanted her to go with Blessing? Why else would she have got her voice back just then? Whatever power earthly nobles held over her, it was but a feather on the wind compared to God’s power.

“Anna?”

“Go away, Matto.”

“Nay, Anna, we’ll not go. We’ve talked it over.” Thiemo pushed in next to him, and they both knelt beside her where she was rolling up the last pallet. Everyone else had left the tent; after this tent came down, they would march.

“We’ve talked it over, Anna. We’ll stay with you, both of us. No matter what. We won’t leave Princess Blessing. Or you.”

She couldn’t speak because of the lump choking her throat. She tied up the pallet and picked up another, while Thiemo and Matto did the same. In silence they carried everything out to the wagon while soldiers dismantled the tent.

They traveled all afternoon, first overland to the river and then upstream through tall grass. That night she slept restlessly under the wagon while Thiemo and Matto kept watch. She woke to hear footfalls rustling in grass as they paced; the wagon creaked as the healer sat the unconscious girl up and forced a precious bit of fluid into her, enough to keep her alive one day more.

That was all they could hope for.

She rolled over but could not go back to sleep. The constant irritation of breathing grass all day made her throat raw and painful. The wind had turned cold, and she shivered in her blankets, wishing she had a warm body to share them with. But whatever she did, whichever man she chose, the other would be angry and jealous. How could she balance one with the other? What if they lived for years out here, alone together among a foreign people? How was it possible that Matto and Thiemo would not, in the end, come to blows? Or worse? What if they decided that neither of them wanted her?

She waited until they converged on the opposite side of the wagon and wriggled out, got to her feet, and dashed into the grass, bent over so they would not see her. Although she met no sentries, she didn’t go too far; she could not get the iron stink of the griffin out of her head. The hooded griffin paced along at the head of the procession, obedient to its master, and the big female flew overhead but circled down at night to curl up beside its mate.