“And you woke in the house of the Arral?” said Istvhan, as she relayed as much of this as she felt like recounting.
Clara nodded. “I was found property. But they treated me as kindly as they would treat any outsider. They had no idea, of course.”
“And your sisters are being taken to Morstone.”
“So he said.” Clara grimaced. “But they’ve taken the southern route, which is longer. It might simply be that there are more towns to buy food, or better roads, or something like that.”
“There’s also a chance they’ll be keeping them somewhere to recover,” said Galen. “You want to give the crowd a good show. You don’t just dump half-dead captives out into the amphitheater.”
Clara felt the word amphitheater enter her gut like a knife. It’s what you suspected would happen. You always knew. But hearing someone else say it made it real and likely and terrible.
“Thank you, Galen, for that cheerful thought,” said Istvhan acidly.
“Sorry, Boss.”
“I don’t know much about Morstone,” she said, looking straight ahead. “But I suspected that it was probably going to be something like that. It could not have been for…parts…or they would have killed us where we stood. There must have been some reason to take us alive. We would be a dramatic spectacle in a gladiator pit, would we not? Nuns and novices about to be torn apart by beasts, and then…then…” Amphitheater. The word had barbs. She could almost feel it twisting.
Her voice cracked. Istvhan caught her arm, pulled her halfway into a hug, then recoiled. “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right.” You kissed me once, Captain. Are you thinking better of that now?
“No, it isn’t. I already stabbed you, I should know better than to grab you.”
She managed a laugh around the pain of the word in her guts. It sounded like a normal laugh, which was a relief. Going to the beast had left her feeling hollowed out, as if she had been struggling to contain something too large. But the change and its aftermath had shredded her calm, and the emotions she had been struggling to contain for weeks were threatening to well up in the hollow left behind.
No. Tears later. Not now. You don’t mourn until you know they’re dead. Which was all well and good and practical, but when was she allowed to mourn for the friendships she had cut down in the roadway, as surely as if she had used her claws?
It occurred to her that Galen, who was a little mad, might actually still be interested in friendship with a beast. Istvhan…
Don’t be a fool. By the grace of St. Ursa, you haven’t gotten any of his men killed. You’ve actually done him some good. He’s done you some good as well. The ledger’s balanced. But if you don’t get far away from him and his men, the next time those raiders come, they’ll leave dead men behind. The best thing you can do—the thing a friend would do—is get as far away from Istvhan and his men as you can.
She took a deep breath, let it out again. The tears went away, but the word amphitheater stayed stuck in her belly, throbbing, for a while longer.
It took the better part of an hour to find a place to pull the wagon off the road safely. The hills came together there in a little stone shoulder, providing cover on two sides. Clara was so jumpy that she almost offered to turn back into a bear in hopes of getting scent of the enemy. She didn’t, mostly because one of the mercenaries was staring at her with eyes like holes in his face. That one was worrisome. She’d seen Istvhan punch him, and that was more worrisome, because Istvhan was not a leader who ruled by fear.
You know perfectly well what happened. Istvhan’s standing by you, even after you didn’t tell him all the truth. Even after he learned what you are.
Still, Clara was used to men like Andrel. The few people outside the convent who knew mostly struggled, but they came around. But every now and again you found one who could not cope, who hated you for being what you were, as if somehow you were changing shape at them, personally. People like that were dangerous. It was best to get away from them quickly.
It would be best if you got away quickly, no matter what.
She kept her eye on Andrel while she helped drag the wagon into position. The bulk of the wagon barricaded off the gap, but the mules had to be unharnessed so that it could fit in place. “A mule will back up,” said Brindle, “but a mule doesn’t enjoy it.”
Clara nodded. She would miss Brindle, if not the mules. Perhaps when all this is over…
The odds of anything ever being over seemed so remote that she abandoned that line of thought at once. She wolfed down a bar of the pressed meat rations and dusted off her hands. Her bear-self could and would eat things that her human-self found disgusting, but St. Ursa only knew when she would stumble across anything like that. And time is of the essence. I have to get away. I can’t afford to keep stopping for a snack.
And then there was nothing else to do. She could carry nothing, so she did not pack. She’d just have to leave the coin and her robes here. It wasn’t the first time.
She took a deep breath, stepped away from the rocky wall, and went to find Istvhan to tell him that she was leaving.
“I’m going,” said Clara. She tugged Istvhan’s cloak off her shoulders and offered it to him, one-handed. “I’m sorry to have caused your people trouble.”
Istvhan blinked at her. “Going where?” His brain was moving slow for some reason, possibly because a person he’d quite liked had turned into a bear next to him and he still wasn’t quite recovered. Was she going to use the privy? Oh, she probably needs an escort, we’re in hostile territory.
“Away. I’ll draw them off. It’s me they want. Once they know I’m gone, they’ll leave you alone.”
Away? Away by herself?
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, more harshly than he intended. “You’re injured. They’ll kill you.”
“That’s exactly what they won’t do,” she said calmly. “I’m worth a great deal alive and nothing dead.” She rolled her head from side to side and stretched her good shoulder. “And first they’ll have to catch me.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
Clara drew herself up to her full height. “I am not asking your permission, Captain Istvhan. I am not under your command. I am very grateful for your escort this far, but our ways part now.”
She took half a step forward and Istvhan wanted to laugh with recognition. She would have loomed over a smaller man, and if he took a step back, even involuntarily, he would lose the battle before it had begun. He’d done it himself any number of times.
Oh no. You cannot physically intimidate me, Domina. Not as a human, at any rate. I know this dance too well. He took a half-step forward instead.
Something flickered in her eyes. Acknowledgement? Something else? He did not know. He realized too late that he was too close. He could have leaned forward and kissed her. She could have reached out and choked the life out of him. And if we combine the two, things will get extremely strange.
“You can’t go,” he said. “You haven’t got any boots.”
Whatever she was expecting, it wasn’t that. She looked down at her bare feet, which were already bruised and muddy from the walk. Breaking their gaze let him shift back a half-step without seemed to give ground. “I don’t need boots,” she said. “I don’t plan to have human feet for most of it.”
“You’re still not going alone,” he said.
“You cannot stop me.”
“From going? No. So I’ll go with you.”
She hadn’t expected that. Her eyes flickered again and there was an edge of uncertainty to her voice. “You’re a mercenary, Captain Istvhan. And I am not paying you.”
He sighed. “I’m not a mercenary,” he said. “I’m a paladin.”
“A paladin? A holy warrior?!” Clara put her hands on her hips. “And you’ve been giving me crap about being a nun when I’m only a lay sister?”
“Is this really the time?” asked Istvhan.
“Yes, it’s the time!”<
br />
“It’s only that men who would like to put you in a zoo are probably going to come back soon.”
“Then they can wait! I am not done yelling!”
“Yes’m,” said Istvhan, and stared contritely at his toes.
“You’re a paladin!”
“More or less. Less these days.”
“But a paladin!”
“I feel very bad about it.”
Clara waved her hands in the air and had to catch her robe before it fled for the ground. She didn’t know why it was so aggravating, except that it was. Over a week and he’d never mentioned it and she’d been acting like he was a particularly noble mercenary instead of a particularly ignoble holy warrior and…and…dammit, it wasn’t fair.
“Have you been sitting there smugly judging me this whole time, then? Because if you have, I remind you that I’m a lay sister! And I told you up front!”
“You didn’t actually mention the bear thing, though,” said Galen from the sidelines. Both Istvhan and Clara turned wide, furious glares on him. “Right, I’ll just go…stand watch…over there…”
Istvhan turned back to her. “I promise that all my judgments have been positive?”
That wrung a laugh from her, even if it was an exasperated one. This wasn’t important. Not really. She was just very angry and the beast was still just under the surface, which didn’t calm her at all. “Fine. But you’re not coming with me. I’ll go as a bear and move much faster. You’d only slow me down.”
“Domina, a question.”
“Yes?”
“Can bears read maps?”
Her breath hissed through her teeth. “You know we can’t.”
“I know nothing of the sort. I’ve never talked to a werebear before. But if you can’t read maps, then may I point out that you won’t know where you’re going?”
“I’ll go north over the mountain,” she said. “Pick up the road to Morstone over there.”
“The road curves north as well. If you aren’t careful, you’ll miss it and wind up a long way out of your way. And if you have to backtrack, you’ll very likely run into these raiders again.”
He was right. She hated that he was right, but he was. She didn’t know the area and the bear…well, the bear’s sense of direction wasn’t good. It would be all too easy to drift to one side or the other and not notice until she was staring at an impassable cliff. Damnation. And the raiders had nets and nets were very hard to work with if you didn’t have hands, and…oh hang it all, she had to get away so she didn’t put everyone else in danger, but he was a goddamn paladin and there was no getting traction with people like that.
She glared at him. He folded his arms and waited.
“Fine,” she growled, turning away. “Be ready in ten minutes.”
“Is this a good idea, Boss?”
“Almost certainly not. What else can I do?”
Galen considered this, while Istvhan hastily shoved supplies into his pack. “Let her go off by herself?”
“And have her end up in some bastard’s menagerie? No.”
“Tie her down?”
“I really don’t want to fight her,” said Istvhan. “I feel weird fighting women.”
“You stabbed her once today already. With a sword.”
“Yes, but she was a giant goddamn bear at the time.”
Galen looked unconvinced. Istvhan wasn’t entirely convinced himself. He rubbed his temples. “Look, it’s…different.”
“Uh-huh. Also if she’s a giant goddamn bear, she can eat you for lunch.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Am I wrong, boss?”
“…no.” Istvhan was reasonably sure that he could take on Clara-as-human in a fight, and also quite certain that Clara-as-bear could turn him into minced paladin.
“Then I guess you’re stuck.” Galen looked over at her, then started to laugh.
“What so funny?” Istvhan swept more food into the pack. How much did a bear eat? Was she going to kill deer or something? Should he help?
“I was just thinking, first you’re with Beartongue and now you’re chasing after someone with an actual bear’s—”
“Galen.”
“Look, I’m just saying you have a type. A weirdly specific type.”
“If you ever make that joke again, I will end you.”
“Sure, sure. I’ll see you in Morstone, shall I?”
“Yes. Get everyone there, and I’ll meet you at the Temple of the Rat.” He swung his pack on his back. “And say a prayer for me, while you’re at it.”
“To which god?” asked Galen.
Istvhan searched the other man’s face. Their god was dead, and the shared wound of that would bind him to Galen and the other lost paladins until the day they died. “I suppose to the Rat,” he said. “But perhaps it might be worth offering a prayer to the ghost of steel.”
Galen nodded, short and sharp, and turned away.
Clara pulled her robe more tightly around herself. She could see that Istvhan was packing her kit alongside his own, and she did not know whether to be touched or annoyed. Bears had little use for silverware. But when you are a human again, you will appreciate it. And you will have to ask him to carry your clothes as well. Showing up somewhere stark naked to ask if they have a spare blanket you can borrow is only funny once.
She ground her teeth. It was so frustrating to rely on another person. Many of the Sisters traveled in pairs for just such reasons, but she had always done well enough alone, taking orders up and down the waterway, coming back on a hired barge to fill the orders later. She stashed a sack of clothing outside of large towns as a matter of safety, but she’d only had to use that a handful of times in a decade. In life, if you were careful, there were simply not that many times when you absolutely, positively, had to turn into a bear.
Someone cleared their throat behind her. Clara turned and saw Brant standing there. The distiller’s face was transparent with some emotion, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on which one. Please, Saint Ursa, don’t let it be religious awe. You got that sometimes. It was better than abject horror, but it was still exhausting.
“You’re leaving us here,” said Brant. “You and the Captain?”
Clara nodded.
He held out his hand. “Please take these. In case we don’t meet again.”
Puzzled, Clara held out her own hand, and he dropped three acorns into it. They were smooth and glossy, the shells tapering to a fine point.
“Plant these somewhere,” he said. “Wherever you feel an oak might be happy. I hope to see you in Morstone regardless.” He bobbed his head in a quick approximation of a bow and then hurried away. Clara was left gazing down at a handful of acorns and found that her eyes were prickling with tears for no apparent reason.
“I’m ready,” said Istvhan behind her. She shoved the acorns hastily into her pocket and turned to meet him. If she focused on her irritation, she would not start crying over acorns or acceptance or anything else.
“Took you long enough,” she grumbled, swiping surreptitiously at her eyes. “Let’s go.”
Brindle nodded to her, whiskers forward, and said “A bear-lady travels safe, eh?” Galen lifted his hand. Clara and Istvhan walked down the road and did not look back.
Sixteen
When they could no longer see the camp, Clara nodded to the hills to the north side of the road. “That way. Going rough this time.” She would have turned into a bear at this point if she were alone, but it seemed awkward to do in front of Istvhan. What was she supposed to say? “Hold my clothes?” “Avert your eyes?” She gritted her teeth and stayed human, stepping off the road. The forest here was mostly pine and the ground was a carpet of dry needles, crunchy and not completely unpleasant to walk on, except when it wasn’t. Her feet were already bruised from the long walk down the stony road. Dammit, she’d been looking forward to having leathery pawpads again for a bit, just to give her feet a rest.
She made about
a hundred yards into the forest, with Istvhan walking upslope behind her, and then she stepped on a particularly sharp chunk of forest floor. Stone. Bark. Pointy twig. It didn’t matter. She grunted, balanced on one foot, rubbed the red mark on her sole, and decided that this was stupid. It’s not like he’s going to forget that you’re a bear if you don’t turn into one again.
“Hold my clothes,” she said, shrugging out of her robe. She didn’t dare look at him, just thrust the bundle of cloth in his direction, stiff-armed. He took it from her hands.
“Um,” he said.
“Stand back,” she said, and then before he even had time to do that, she lost her nerve and told the beast to come forward. Now. Yes. Wake up.
The world spun and crystalized around her. There. Yes. Like that. Bears could see as well as humans so that was no change, but the smells! They painted the landscape in whorls and eddies of sensation. A background layer of pine, sharp and acidic. A trail of musk where a deer had passed. Istvhan’s breath, steaming out in clouds, and the scent of ginger muscle rub that followed him everywhere. As a human, she found that scent oddly comforting. As a bear, she had no particular opinion. It was just what he smelled like, an anchor point to his identity.
She dropped to all fours. There. Yes. That was better. Her back feet were still a little sore from where she had bruised them, but nothing was getting through the thick black leather of her paws.
She took a deep breath and her skin shivered around her, everything settling into place. It had been too long. Her last transformation had only lasted a few seconds and then she’d had to shove the beast down violently. This was better. This was what it was supposed to be like, senses awakening and muscles moving and that sudden implacable confidence that came of knowing that you were the most powerful thing in the forest.
“Ah,” said Istvhan. “Hello?”
She grunted at him, then nodded. It wasn’t a gesture that came easily to bears. She had to wag her head up and down, which would have been threatening to another bear, but it seemed to make Istvhan relax.
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