Grigar led her across the encampment and down the road south from the city. She lost track of time, stumbling after him in the deepening twilight. At some point they plunged off the road and into the woods, following a twisty game trail. So this was the crow road, Kate thought, dazed.
By the time they reached the small encampment tucked away in the woods, it was full dark. The cold permeated her clothes so that she ached with the effort to stay warm. The song of tree frogs rose and fell in a ceaseless drone, and she could tell there was water nearby–the air was wet.
Grigar stopped and made a soft noise. She heard nothing and then a simple “psst!” A flicker of light caught her eye and they turned toward it.
The camp was small, and it was just Arlef and Balafray and Ossen. She spared a thought for long-legged Ivar on the road with his letter to Mitain, and hoped he had survived the malcra and the massacre both. Balafray extinguished the small lantern as soon as he drew them in, and Kate sank to her knees next to Ossen.
The girl lay covered in damp blankets on a simple pallet. Kate took her hand. Ossen’s fingers were cold and wet. She smelled blood and the stink of fear.
“Ossen?” she said.
The girl moved fitfully and gasped in pain.
“Kett?” she said, her voice a thin thread.
“Don’t make her speak,” Balafray warned in his gravelled voice. Kate put her hand on Ossen’s forehead, wiping the sweat. She would have to pull out all of her hard-won knowledge from the war camp, and she had nothing to doctor with. Kate took a deep breath and willed herself to go on. Ossen needed all of her–her strength, her energy, her training. She would atone later for what she had done. Right now, she had to save her friend.
She stood. “Right,” she said. “Come over here.”
The brothers gathered around her a few feet away from Ossen, and she kept her voice low. “We need to get to dry land, we need to be able to keep her warm and protected, and we need to get her medicine.” The city would have everything they needed but they couldn’t go back. “Is there a smallholding around here?”
“About a mile down the road,” Arlef said. “We were going to make a few forays for food, later. What do you need?”
They didn’t need crow’s work, they needed things the crows couldn’t get in their usual raids on a smallholding. They needed medicines, bandages, and goodwill. She bit her lip, thinking. They were crows and she was persona non grata herself. A smallholder might help them, but it would be dangerous. They needed a stake.
“Do we have my pearls?” Was it only yesterday that Tamra had woven them into her hair? Was Tamra even alive?
Balafray nodded, and he pulled them out of a pouch. “Kept them safe for you,” he said.
“Good. I need to sell them.” She looked at Grigar. “Come with me?”
He nodded, but he didn’t look happy about it. She cringed at that, then steeled herself. Whatever Grigar thought of her, he was the only one smallholders would open their doors for.
“All right. You two, get Ossen to dry land. Pitch a tent, build a fire, keep her warm and dry. Boil water for me. Grigar and I will get medicines and food and bandages.”
They nodded, and set to work, lifting the litter as gently as possible. Ossen still cried out. It was slow going, climbing out of the slight swale, but when they did, the air was drier. They found a small clearing deeper into the woods, and set Ossen down. Kate made sure she was securely covered, kissed her cheek, and left them to pitching a lean-to tent.
“Come on,” she told Grigar, and he fell in beside her. The night air was cold and she shivered, but walking warmed her up. Stars littered the sky. Behind them Salt hulked, torchlight glowing on the walls, but up ahead the road was dark.
“Grigar,” she stopped. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was, that she hadn’t meant to hurt Ossen, but she chickened out. Instead, when he glanced at her, she said, “Tell me everything.”
“We only found out she was missing when she was neither among the dead nor the living. Then someone remembered she had gone on an errand for you. We ducked in through the gate. Balafray and the others went in search of her, while I went for news of you.”
Oh God. Kate squeezed her hands tightly and screwed up her courage. “Grigar, if I could change that...I never meant...”
“Well. We found her, in Lord Camrin’s chambers, and he was dead and she was alive, barely.”
“She killed Lord Camrin?!”
No wonder he was missing earlier that day, when she had gone to lunch with Lady Wessen. And about the time the crows went malcra, Ossen would have been in his hands after delivering Hotshot to Terrick. If she even made it that far...
“I doubt it.” Grigar’s voice shook with rage. “Even my sister couldn’t kill a man while being hung from a hook in the ceiling, with her back flayed into strips.”
Kate remembered every sickening blow that rained down on her own back during her time in the war camp, when the mad general vented his rage upon her, and swallowed against the sudden nausea.
“I will not let her die, Grigar. I’ll do everything I can. I swear.”
He reached out and squeezed her hand. “It’s in the hands of the crow god, Kett. But it’s good that you will try.”
His tone put her back up. Was he being condescending, or pragmatic? A little of both, she decided. At least he hadn’t said it was in the hands of the grass god’s daughter. If you want to help with anything, she told the crow god, make sure someone in this town likes shiny things.
Up ahead, the warm lights of the little village drew them in.
The first door they knocked on remained securely shut against them, and she couldn’t blame the household. The second opened. The woman who peeked out looked askance at Kate when she desperately told her the herbs she needed and why, explaining that her little sister was badly hurt. The woman looked past Kate at Grigar, who waited respectfully by the small gate, and said to Kate,
“Is that your man?”
How could she possibly answer that question? “Yes–no–he’s–yes,” she fumbled. “Please, I can pay you, in these.”
She held out the small irregular pearls in her grimy hand, knowing that the woman thought she was a crow and had stolen them. The woman considered, and then said, “Wait here.”
It took forever, but when she returned, she had a small sack that smelled like the herbs that Kate remembered from her apprenticeship with Talios. There were soft cloths for bandages, and a small folded packet of aromatic vesh herbs. Kate almost wept.
“Thank you, ma’am, thank you,” she stumbled. She thrust the pearls at the woman.
“Not all of them, girl. Payment is one thing, but I’d risk the good god’s wrath if I took advantage.” She selected three pearls, then considered and plucked out one more. “Go now, help your sister.” She raised her voice at Grigar. “And you should be ashamed of yourself, skulking back there and letting your sweetheart do the trading. Go on now, off with you.”
She closed the door on them and doused the light, and they could hear the crossbar thunking into place.
The rest of the night passed in a blur. It seemed it took longer to get back to the small camp. The brothers had set up three small tents, and Ossen lay in one, shivering in pain. In the light of the small fire, Kate spread out her herbs and sent the brothers off for water to put on the boil. She had few tools to work with. First Ossen’s wounds had to be cleaned, and her brothers gave the girl a glove to bite down on. When that was done, and it took a long time for all of them, but an eternity to Ossen, Kate spread the paste on the girl’s bare back, and laid the bandages over, and then covered her up.
Ossen sobbed around the thick glove, and then, after Kate made her drink vesh, and gave her some of the small drops of a simple tincture, she seemed to sigh into a fitful sleep. Kate caressed her hand, and Ossen muttered something.
“Go to sleep now, Ossen, okay?”
“Kett,” Ossen whispered. “It was Camrin.”
“We k
now, sweetie. And you’re here safe. Sleep now. Rest, and I’ll make sure you get well, okay?”
“No, listen. Lord sent kidnappers. Recognized the men.”
Yare’s kidnappers. Camrin’s men? Camrin had sent them?
“What? Why?”
But the opiate did its work, and Ossen drifted off. Kate sat back, scrubbing at her gritty eyes. She didn’t even know if she had heard properly. Lord Camrin sent kidnappers to Terrick, but what would that serve? Well, he was dead now anyway, and she no longer cared about Terrick.
Except–why?
Balafray’s heavy hand fell on her shoulder. He looked down at his sister. “Will she live?”
Kate thought about infections, about immune response, about the scars that would disfigure her even if she did live, because there would be no skin grafts in Aeritan. She decided to keep it simple. The herbs and tinctures that Talios taught her were barely adequate. But at least, if they kept the wounds clean, scrupulously so, she might be able to stave off a deadly infection. After that, she supposed it was up to the crow god. “Yes, I think so. We have to keep her wounds clean and change the bandages, which will hurt, but she’ll live.”
They would have to do that all on the run, too, and that was the bigger problem. She had to figure it out, somehow, but she was so tired, she was afraid she would fall asleep where she sat. She couldn’t sleep though. Anything could happen. Ossen could wake up, the soldiers could find them–she had to stay awake so she could fix everything.
“Sleep now,” Balafray said. “Arlef and Grigar, you too. I’ll take first watch.”
“I’ll sleep here,” she said, stubbornly. “If she needs anything, I can be right here.”
“Kett, you’re dead on your feet,” Grigar said. He pulled her away from Ossen, but gently. “Let us stand watch, and let the crow god protect our small camp. You can’t do this right now.”
He was right. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t do anything, not save her people, not heal Ossen. She had thought she was too tired to cry, but the tears welled up again. No. She couldn’t lose it in front of everyone. She was Lady Temia. She willed the tears to dry up. She laid her hand on Ossen’s and said, “Ossen, I’ll be back in the morning. You’ll feel better tomorrow, I promise.” Ossen mumbled something incoherent, and Kate followed Grigar out of the tent and into hers.
In the relative privacy of her tent, she slumped on the small pallet of blankets. Grigar lit the coals in a small closed iron brazier, and the small heat it emitted almost made the musty tent homey. It overwhelmed her, and Kate began to cry in earnest.
“I made this happen,” she croaked. “I made her go. She’s my friend and I made her go. I thought the city would be safer for her.”
He sighed. “Tomorrow. If you want us to scathe you, wait until tomorrow. We’re tired too, chick. Now undress.”
Through her weariness and guilt she felt a small shiver of panic. He didn’t wait for her to respond, but knelt and started drawing off her boots. A bubble of hysterical laughter welled up. Soldier’s god, was this his idea of making her rest? And why not? It had been a long day. She had stopped being Kate Mossland at about mid-morning, the best she could reckon, and had become wholly Lady Temia. Lady Temia could take anyone to bed she wanted to, even if she was a virgin and not yet eighteen.
With shaking hands, she drew off her shirt and trousers, and undid her stays, breathing out a sigh of relief as her ribs were no longer compressed. Grigar draped the clothes over a small camp chair to air them out, but they needed more than that–the clothes were filthy. She stood in her shift and her bloomers, her cheeks heated. So what came next in this plan of seduction she had for Grigar?
He looked at her, and his expression was – mixed, awareness with regret. She bit her lip and closed the shift at her throat self-consciously.
“Are you offering yourself to me, chick?” he asked. She lifted her chin, knowing even in her haze that this was one of her stupider ideas. He took a breath and let it out. “I am honored, but this isn’t the time. Get into bed.”
“I thought–” She thought that was what he wanted, and even what she wanted. Embarrassment flooded her along with a measure of relief. Soldier’s god. She was an idiot. She fumbled into the bed, clammy and musty as the rest of the tent, and he covered her with the thin blanket. Then, fully clothed, he lay down next to her on the narrow pallet, put his arms around her, and held her close. He was muscular and warm, his leather armor pressing into her, and his embrace felt good and safe.
She felt the lump in her throat ease, even as tears leaked from her eyes again. Grigar moved a little and kissed her on the ear, his breath soft and the kiss lingering. She shivered at her body’s response.
“I would accept your offer in two heartbeats, Kett, but not now. After Ossen recovers and we all survive, and you still wish this, I will be yours. Now go to sleep.”
Easier said than done, Kate thought, but weariness overtook her anyway, and she drifted off.
Colar had walked for hours, even after he and the captain had split up. They had gone their separate ways after slithering through the narrow alleys of Salt, losing themselves in the twisting narrow streets and the crooked mews of the old neighborhoods. Then Crae had peeled off, but Colar kept on walking. The night air crept inside his shirt, but his walking kept him warm. He felt no urge to sit in a tavern, and no desire to go back to the rooms he shared with his father. Every now and again he caught the eye of a townsperson, but he avoided speaking, and no one spoke to him.
When the hour waned and the day turned, he sighed, footsore and weary, and headed back to the great House.
Two of Terrick’s men at arms stood outside the room. Colar wondered if Janye were still inside, or if Raymon had sent her packing off to her father and mother.
“Who is within?” he asked the men. They glanced at each other. Tal and Strav. They were both stalwart soldiers who had served the house since his childhood.
“Lord Terrick, Colar. And your wife.”
Tied up or loose? But he couldn’t ask that. He just nodded and rapped on the door, then let himself in.
His father and Janye occupied opposite sides of the room in a kind of tense standoff. His wife had been crying. Her face was streaked with tears and her eyes were swollen. His father looked no less unhappy, but he only said,
“Success, then?”
Colar nodded. There was a pot of vesh steaming in a wrapped towel on the small table. He helped himself to a cup of the bitter spiced drink.
“May I go to my father now, Lord Terrick?” Janye’s voice was carefully neutral, but he knew she meant it to sting, that she would ask his father for permission rather than ask him. Before his father could answer, Colar shook his head.
“No,” Colar said. “We have some things to go over.”
Her eyes widened. His father looked between the two of them, then got up heavily. He left without a word.
Colar drank his vesh. He missed coffee, he thought suddenly. He wondered if there were some distant land where coffee could be found here in his home world. He could leave Aeritan behind, become a coffee trader, bringing the elixir to all the Houses.
And Kate would love me again.
Janye stood up, her fists clenched. “So what do you mean to do? Ravish me? You will buy your pleasure dearly.”
“What you said, about making sure I got Kenery. Do you still promise it?”
She didn’t answer right away. Her anger turned to surprise, and then to careful calculation.
“You agree to my offer?” she said.
He would be sleeping with one eye open for the rest of his life, he thought with bitter good humor. He wondered that no one had ever thought to ask how her last husband died.
“A few things, first,” he said. “When it comes to the heir of Kenery, the Council will decide, as it has done in the past, and you will be my lady Janye of Kenery.”
“The Council will not decide. My father–”
What she didn’t know was th
at as of that evening, the balance of power in Council had changed, when Lady Temia made her pledge to Trieve. He said only, “Let me worry about that. Secondly. We will start over. I hope to suit you, Janye, my wife.”
She was silent a long time. When she spoke, her voice was grudging, but she spoke the words anyway. “I hope to suit you, my husband.”
He set down his vesh and went over to her. He untied her kerchief and let her hair fall over his hands, then lifted her chin and kissed her. He didn’t expect her to kiss him back with any enthusiasm, but she went rigid under his attentions. Colar drew back.
“Why are you like this?” His frustration came out in his voice.
“I told you, Colar of Terrick. We don’t need to know everything about one another.” She was back to her usual tone, sardonic and sharp, but they stood so close that he could see that her hands were shaking.
What did she fear? She was a widow, she had to have lain with at least one man before. She had to know he would not rape her. What did she take him for? He felt a self-righteous anger. He was trying.
So, that was to be the way of it. He didn’t need to sleep with her anyway, not until it was time to get an heir. They would continue on as they had, and he would, in this Council or the next, be named Kenery’s heir, disinheriting her little brother. The Council had done worse to unruly lords, but it meant he would be living in a nest of vipers.
But that was his life now. It was time to choose, and not be chosen for. Kate was gone, turned into Lady Temia, and a stranger forever. He had his own life now, and had to make of it what he would.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Kate woke in her small tent, the gray light of early morning leaking through the musty fabric. Her pallet and blankets were clammy and cold and her nose was stopped up, as usual when she slept in a tent. She groaned and sat up.
She was alone. Grigar must have waited until she slept to go stand watch or find his own bedroll. Her face flamed again, both at the memory of his rejection and of the little kiss. What had she been thinking?
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