“Maya has gone to the Emperor’s camp,” I said without preamble. “Two weeks ago. “
“Then she’ll still be there.” A mix of emotions crossed his face. “And I won’t see her,” he said quietly. I looked at him, shocked. I had not thought of this.
“Oh, Garth.”
He shook his head. “But you will, and you’ll know what to say to her, of me.” He hesitated. “Do you want me to take word of Tice to Karst, so you can leave for the camp tomorrow?”
“No,” I said, reluctantly. “Tice’s death is my responsibility, and the news is mine to bear. But I won’t linger in Karst, though I will be with you, if you want, when you claim Valle. I would like to meet him.” I saw him relax, infinitesimally.
“I’d hoped you would be there,” he said. In the half-light, I could not read his eyes. I wanted to put my arms around him. A burst of laughter came from the soldier’s side. “I better go,” he said.
I went back to my table, picking up my half-full mug of ale. I remembered a bench, outside, and found my way there in the cold night. No clouds obscured the sky. The stars glittered. I sat on the bench, drawing my knees up for warmth. I found the bear and then the north star. I could follow them home. So could any who had apprenticed to the boats. I had heard fireside tales about the different stars in distant lands. If you travelled far enough, how did you find your way home?
I shivered as the night’s chill seeped into me. I went back inside to mount the stairs to my room. Stowing my saddlebags under my bed, I stripped down to my shirt and pulled back the covers. The blankets, woven of good wool, warmed me, and I gave myself to their comfort and to the oblivion of sleep.
Chapter Eighteen
I slept deeply, not stirring even when my roommates came to bed. I woke when the first hint of light showed in the eastern sky. The morning star shone above the horizon. I dressed quietly and picked up my saddlebags.
Downstairs, Fryth was already at work at the servery. “The Watch-Commander is up, too,” she said. “There’s bread and cheese for you here and a mug of tea. Drink that, at least. It’ll be cold on the road this early.”
I thanked her, giving her the coins for the night’s lodging and my breakfast. I sipped the hot, sweet tea carefully, feeling its warmth spreading inside me. I folded the bread around the cheese and took a bite, then stuffed it in my tunic pocket. I could eat on the road. I drank down the remaining tea, ignoring the heat.
“Good luck to you,” Fryth said, turning back to her cooking fire.
I picked up the saddlebags, going out to the stables where the horses, saddled and waiting, snorted in the cold air. I pulled on my riding coat and gloves, then swung the saddlebags up and secured them. Garth emerged from the stable.
“Ready?” Awakening sparrows chirped in the eaves of the stable.
“Ready,” I answered, though my mind shied from what the day would bring. We mounted and clattered out of the stable yard. The wide, paved road ran south from the inn to where two narrower roads branched off.
We took the westerly road at an easy pace until the sun rose high enough to melt the frost off the paving stones. I nibbled at my bread and cheese. Here and there, I could see the work of woodcutters. The road began to slope downward, snaking into a series of switchbacks. We turned a corner and stopped.
Below us, the forest gave way to fields, each planted with precise, parallel rows of trellised vines. Dirt tracks ran between the fields, houses, and outbuildings scattered among them. Smoke rose from the houses, and in the far distance, I spotted a larger building with a tower: the central meeting hall. Beyond that were more fields, and then a shimmer at the horizon: the sea. The sea. I looked away, back to the neatly ordered land, and the memory came to me of the grace and precision of Tice dancing.
We urged the horses to a canter as we passed the rows of grapes. A few were neatly pruned and tied, but the majority grew thick, hanging loosely over the trellises. Winter work, I remembered Tice telling me. We came to a house with a workshop beside it. The air smelled of freshly cut wood from a row of newly-manufactured barrels lined up outside the building.
A woman came out, her clothes powdered with sawdust. “Strangers!” she said. “I thought you might be Daria, although I couldn’t think who the second horse would be. What can I do for you?”
I introduced us. “We have business in Karst. What is the way to the meeting hall? I must speak with your council leader—Anya.”
She nodded. “Keep on this road until it forks then go right. At a canter, you’ll be there before noon. Anya will be there.” She looked at us both. “I’ll expect to hear the meeting bell this afternoon. Would you like water before you ride on?”
We let the horses drink and accepted water ourselves without dismounting. The cooper handed us mugs with the same economy of movement that Tice had had. I drank the cold water and handed the mug back. We reined the horses back to the road.
The sun was high when we reached the hall—a low building, built of silvered wood on a stone foundation, with a bell tower rising high from the centre. A porch ran around the front and sides, covered with twining grapevines. Trees I did not recognize, gnarled and bent, grew to one side.
We dismounted. The horses sidestepped nervously, reacting to our tension. I stroked Clio’s neck, damping down my jitters to calm my horse. A girl of nine or ten came running from inside the hall, stopping when she saw us.
“Is Anya within?” I asked her. She nodded. “Can you hold our horses while we go to speak with her?” She nodded again and came forward, holding out her hand for the horses to sniff. She stroked their muzzles. When I believed them to be calm, I handed her the reins. “This is Clio, and this is Tasque. They will stand for you, or you can walk them up and down, if you like.” She took the reins, leading the horses towards the back of the hall. We went inside.
I had been expecting dark, but the hall swam with light from a series of windows high in the walls above the porch roof. Long tables ran across the room, and fireplaces took up most of the walls. Several women readied food at the far end. They looked up as we walked across the hall. One woman, grey-haired and tall, walked forward.
“I am Anya, Council Leader. Are you looking for me?”
“Yes,” I said, meeting her brown eyes. “I am Lena, from Tirvan in the north. This is Garth, of Skua, who fought with us there. May we speak with you?”
“Privately?” I nodded. I saw her face tighten. “There is an office through here,” she said, indicating a door to our right. “Please come.”
Inside was a long table, covered with papers, two chairs, and a bench. Anya closed the door behind us. “Please sit,” she said. She took the chair behind the table. Garth sat on the bench, leaning forward, tension in every line of his body. I sat on the edge of the other chair, my heart pounding. Anya looked at me. “This is not good news you bring.”
“No,” I said. I thought of my mother, instructing Kira on how to deliver bad news. Be direct, she had said. Be honest. “Our village potter died in the fighting. She was from Karst, and her name was Tice.” Anya closed her eyes and was silent for a long moment.
“How did she die?”
“I was her Cohort-Leader,” I said. “She was my cohort-second. After the main battle, some invaders were unaccounted for. I sent her to patrol alone, and she was stabbed.” I swallowed hard. “I made a mistake, and it cost Tice her life. She was my friend.” I waited. Anya’s expression did not change.
“I am glad she found a village to take her in and a friend,” she said. “Were you friend enough to know her story?”
I nodded. Garth looked extraordinarily calm.
“I am part of that story,” he said. “I am Valle’s father, and I come to formally acknowledge him.”
Anya looked startled. “Tice told us the father was Lestian trader.”
“She knew me as Kirthan. I was a spy for the Empire. I have a letter from my captain in my saddlebags to confirm this if you wish to see it. That afternoon, I thought Ti
ce was going to uncover a message I had left, a message of significant import to the safety of the Empire. I offered her wine, instead, and myself. I didn’t think of the possibility of a child.”
Anya bowed her head for a moment and sighed. Then she looked up. “I will see that letter. I don’t doubt you, but others will, so it’s best that I have read it. I ask that you speak of this to no one until I have met with the rest of the council. You too, Lena,” she added. “I’ll tell Tice’s mother and sisters myself this afternoon. The others will have guessed there is bad news, but Tice is not the only woman from this village to have sought a different life in the last years. I will call meeting tonight, so all may know. I’ll ask you to speak then, if you will.”
Garth cleared his throat then spoke in a firm voice. “I swore to make redress for my wrongs, where I could. Tice died before I knew of Valle. She tried to kill me.”
“Was she trying to kill you or an invader?”
“Tice recognized him and called him by his Lestian name. I stopped her because I also recognized him.” Anya raised an eyebrow. Like Tice. “His sister is my partner, and they look enough alike to be twins.”
Anya returned her gaze to Garth. “Valle has your eyes. What redress would you make, soldier?”
“Whatever I can,” he said, “beyond simply claiming the child. What would you have me do, council leader?” I heard the thread of anger in his voice, remembering that first night, so many weeks ago, when he had responded to his mother’s insinuation of treason with the same controlled fire. Maya has the same steel within her.
Anya nodded, once. “Go now,” she said, “and see to your horses. There is a paddock on the far side of the hall. Come back into the hall through the stables, and you’ll find yourself in the kitchens. I’ll find you a place to eat and wait. I think it’s best if you do not mix with the village yet.”
We did as she asked, walking silently back through the bright hall with the eyes of the women upon us. The horses, already unsaddled, cropped grass in the paddock, their tack hanging neatly on the fence. The child had disappeared.
“You seemed very calm,” I said.
“As did you. But we still have Tice’s family to face and the meeting tonight.” He looked around. “It’s so ordered. Tamed. It reminds me of Leste. No land is wasted.”
He had never spoken of Leste before. I did not know how to respond, but he did not seem to expect a reply. He took his saddle and bridle off the fence. “Let’s find the stables.” I picked up my tack to follow him.
We found our way to a tack room, and then through the dark stable, down a hall to the kitchen where Anya waited for us. She took us to another room, with a table and chairs, bringing us food: wine, fish stew, bread, soft cheese, and small, wizened fruit I did not recognize. Then she left us. I took a mouthful of the stew. It was rich with chunks of a white-fleshed fish and shellfish and onion.
I could taste a spice I couldn’t name. I ate hungrily, wiping the bowl clean with crusty bread to get the last drops. I put the bowl to one side and reached for the fruit. I bit into one, tentatively: sweet, and chewy. “What is this?”
“A fig. There were trees outside.”
“It’s sweet,” I said. I spread some cheese on the bread. Sherron had said the hard cheeses went to the army, mostly. Garth stood to look out the small window. He had eaten his stew but nothing else. I could see the tension in his shoulders. “Have some wine.”
He shook his head without turning. I poured some for myself. It was a pale golden colour, the colour of the winter grasslands. Above us, a bell tolled, three deep rings, then a pause, then three more.
Garth moved away from the window. “I feel helpless. All those weeks of riding and now to sit here in this little room, waiting.”
“There’s nothing else we can do,” I said, looking around. I spotted a box sitting on a shelf and reached for it. “I’m wrong. We can play xache.” Garth shrugged.
“Why not? It will pass the time.” Garth poured himself some wine, and we tossed. He won, and we began the ritualised game, designed, Casyn had told me, to teach men to think of war in terms of tactics and consequences, and of acceptable loss.
I had conceded one game and was winning the second when Anya returned. “Tice’s mother and sisters are here. Before you see them, it is only fair I tell you a few things.” She sighed. “Tamar, Tice’s mother, is a woman of strong views and considerable pride. She was Council Leader for many years before the illness in her joints made it too difficult for her. When she learned Tice was pregnant, she became very angry. She forbade communication between Tice and her two sisters, and she would not see the child, nor Tice, even to say goodbye.”
“How could she be so cruel?” I said, shocked.
“As I said, she is a woman of considerable pride. She saw Tice’s pregnancy as a source of shame.” Anya spoke with studied neutrality.
“Then who will raise Valle?” Garth said suddenly. “Is that not a sister’s role, or a grandmother’s?”
“Usually,” Anya admitted. “Would you take him, Lena?”
“Me?” I tried to think. “How could I? I am going back on the road to find my partner. I can’t take a small child with me.”
“But once you find her?” Anya asked.
“I don’t know.” I took a breath, willing myself to calm. “If I am needed, I will come back for him as soon as I can and take him home with me to Tirvan.”
“I am sure,” Anya said, “that we can make arrangements for him here for a while if we need to. You might also take him to Casilla. Tevra, who was Tice’s partner, might have him.”
“Are we to pass him around, like a wineskin?” Garth said angrily. “This is ridiculous. Better he stays where he is than shove him from one place to another, never knowing where he belongs. I will not acknowledge him unless I know he will be taken care of.”
“I will take him,” I said firmly, “and keep him with me until he is seven if there is no one in Tice’s family who will.” I would think later about how I could do this, and what it might mean, for Maya and me.
We followed Anya out into the hall. At the fireplace at the far end, two women stood beside an older, seated woman with a cane across her knees. I judged Tice’s sisters to be both older and younger than Tice. The older looked nearly thirty and the younger more or less my age. Tice had never spoken of them.
Tamar had a face that spoke of pain. Deep lines ran from her nose to the edges of her mouth. She regarded us levelly but made no gesture of greeting. Her daughters nodded slightly. The younger of the two had reddened eyes.
“Tamar, Joce, Ianthe” Anya began, “this is Lena, of Tirvan, who was Cohort-Leader and friend to Tice. And this is Garth, Watch-Commander of Skua.” She turned to us. “Tamar is Tice’s mother, Joce and Ianthe her sisters. Shall we sit?” It was not a request. We sat.
“Tell me how my daughter died,” Tamar said, her voice cold.
“With respect,” I said, hesitating, “I think you need to hear Garth first. Ours are not separate stories, and it begins here, with the begetting of Valle.”
Tamar made a small pinched movement of her mouth. Her eyes flicked to Anya, and then to her daughters. Ianthe—the younger sister—made a small gesture with her hands.
Garth told them the bare facts, unadorned with reason or excuse. The women listened without interrupting until he told them of the meeting at Jedd’s farm, and his need to keep Tice from the intelligence hidden in the rafters of the barn.
“Watch-Commander,” Tamar said, “I knew my daughter’s anger and wilfulness all too well. She made a choice, too, with the knowledge that a child could well be conceived. I cannot condone your actions, but I understand why you acted as you did. Why Tice did, I will never know.” Her voice remained expressionless. Garth did not respond.
I wished I did not have to tell this cold woman anything. I glanced at the sisters. Ianthe fought tears, so I looked at her as I spoke. “I didn’t know why Tice had come to Tirvan, except that we needed a p
otter. I didn’t know her well until this past summer. She kept herself apart. When I was chosen Cohort-Leader, I chose her as my cohort-second, so that she could teach us to move the way she did. She handled a knife as if she had held one all her life.” Ianthe smiled, slightly.
“We became friends. She told me of Valle, and how he was fathered. She told me she had acted out of jealousy and anger towards her lover who had had a child the year before.” At that, Ianthe sobbed audibly, and Joce put her hand on her arm. Tamar did not move. I steeled myself for the next part.
“After the fighting, all but a few of the invaders were captured or had surrendered. Tice and I were patrolling for the few who still roamed the village when we saw Garth. She named him as Kirthan, and threw her knife to kill him. I had also recognized him, so I deflected the knife. He looks very much like his sister, my partner, Maya, who had left Tirvan in the spring. We took him captive,” I stopped, swallowed. “And then I made a terrible mistake. Rather than argue with her about whether to kill Garth, I sent her back on patrol. She was angry and upset, and I should not have done so. She was stabbed in the back, distracted, no doubt, by her anger. I take responsibility. I am so very sorry.”
Only the muffled sobbing of Ianthe broke the silence. Garth shifted beside me. Finally, Tamar spoke. “You have done your duty,” she said. “For that, I thank you.” She started to stand, Joce immediately supporting her.
“Wait!” Garth said. “My son, Valle. What of him?”
“He is nothing to me. Come, Joce, Ianthe. I wish to rest.” She began to move away, Joce at her elbow. Ianthe turned to follow, and then stopped.
She stepped away from her sister and mother. “I will raise him,” she said. “I will raise Valle if you acknowledge him, Watch-Commander.” I felt a wave of relief, followed by an odd pang of disappointment.
“Not in my house, Ianthe,” Tamar said. “I forbid it.” Then she turned, to walk slowly away. Her footsteps, and those of Joce, and the slow tap of Tamar’s cane echoed in the hall.
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