He turned away, looking for a way up the hill. Behind him he heard Elenn sigh as she dipped her bare feet in the running water. He took a deep breath and considered pulling off his own boots, but wasn’t sure he could tug them back on. He shook his head. Time to move on.
“Shall we?” He turned back to Elenn and extended his hand.
“Just a moment more,” she said. Frowning, she looked down at her clothing. “Not very practical, is it—the kirtle?”
“Suppose not.”
“Well, then.” She pulled the dagger out from her belt, bent over, and began cutting a wide strip of cloth from the hem of her kirtle, leaving it shorter and less ragged. The stabbing blade was not made for such work, and she struggled. But she did not ask for help.
He settled into the most comfortable stance he could manage, and popped a blackberry in his mouth, rolling it around on his tongue. Birds had taken most of them, but there were a few left for him to pluck on his way up through the briars. His arms were pretty scratched up, but most anything sweet in life also required a little hurt.
“There. That’s better,” said Elenn, standing to examine her newly-altered garment. “A little less to catch on the thorns,” she said. She spun and the dress twirled up slightly, revealing pale, shapely calves.
He bit down on the blackberry. It was sour as a lemon. No, worse. He could feel his whole face puckering.
“Okay,” said Elenn with a laugh, “I get the hint. It’s not lovely.”
He tried to correct her, but sour juice running down the back of his throat sent him into a coughing fit, which led to more laughter and some comments about maybe finding some berries that weren’t quite so strong.
“Ready?” Aedin asked, once he had regained control.
“Not quite,” Elenn said. She sat down and took up the discarded material from her kirtle. Humming to herself, she tore a large piece and used it as a rough kerchief to tie her hair back.
“Still wish I hadn’t lost my cap,” she said. “But this will do, don’t you think?” She beamed up at him.
“It’ll do,” he said with one last cough.
He pulled her to her feet and handed her the leather sack. Shouldering the battered chest, he forged a path up the slope.
Later in the afternoon, the sun came out. They found a grove of wild apple trees and stopped for a few minutes to pick. The little green apples were nearly as sour as the blackberries, but they took several with them anyway. As they walked, Elenn talked about how she would make them into lovely tarts if only they had a proper kitchen.
As the sun sank low, they met a stream and followed it up until they found a suitable campsite on the east bank. Aedin caught three grayling fish in the fading light, small enough that he might have thrown them back under ordinary circumstances. But they were hungry, and he didn’t want to use up the little food that Leif had left them.
Hearing him grouse, Elenn said that it was time for her to demonstrate her mastery of the “arts of hearth and home”. She gutted the grayling with admirable skill and steamed them in wet leaves. Once they were unwrapped, the moist and tender flesh just fell off the bones. Then came the apples, which she had cored and stuffed with blackberries and nuts before roasting. Given the sourness of both fruits, Aedin didn’t expect much. There was no denying the sweetness of the result, however. He had to admit, she cooked quite a meal.
“So,” he said, leaning back and enjoying the feeling of something like fullness. “What’s this secret mission you’re on?”
“I never said it was secret,” she said.
“Kept pretty mum, though,” he said. “Figure you’re not on your way to get married.”
“It’s probably better that you don’t know,” she said.
“Better for who?” he asked.
“For us both,” she replied.
He shook his head. “What is it you’ve got me into? Am I going to die because I met you?”
A dark cloud passed over Elenn’s face. “That’s quite a thing for you to say to me.”
Instantly, Aedin felt his guts twist up in a cold knot. What had possessed him to say such a fool thing? If Elenn had not met him, her aunt would still be alive, and Elenn herself would not have been assaulted by a disgusting brute. “Sorry,” he muttered, his cheeks hot with shame.
She turned away for a long couple of minutes, saying nothing.
Aedin leaned forward and furiously stirred the fire with a stick, turning over their discarded apple cores and fish bones—all blackened and charred.
“Your apology is accepted,” Elenn said finally, “on the condition that you ask me no more questions about the purpose of my travels.”
“Just trying to keep us breathing,” he said.
Elenn made no reply.
Poking the fire with his stick, he got an idea. “Try this,” he said. “Look around. See these trees—how small they are compared to the ones in the woods where we met, over by the Shirbrook?”
Elenn glanced around. “Why does it matter?”
“Shows we’re in dragon country,” said Aedin. “Things don’t grow tall here, because they get burned down. Tells any woodsman that this is dangerous territory. You didn’t notice, because you didn’t know what to look for.”
“What’s your point?” Elenn said.
“You’re a smart girl, Elenn,” Aedin replied. “But your education won’t help you here. This is my world. But there's things I don't know, either. And I don’t want to lead us into disaster because I don’t know what in the Abyss you’re running from.”
Elenn pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them. “I’m not running from anything,” she said. She looked very young, almost childlike.
“All right,” he said. “Running to something, then. Why Ghel?”
Staring into the fire, she said nothing.
“That woman you were with,” he began.
“My aunt. Ethelind,” said Elenn quietly.
“Your aunt,” Aedin repeated. He hesitated. “Used magic, didn’t she? On Tuliyek, or his horse? Never seen a Sithian lose control of his mount like that.”
She gave him a glance that spoke volumes.
“Some kind of sorceress?” he asked.
“She was one of the Leodrine Order,” said Elenn. “And many other things besides. She was an incredible woman.”
“Thought I heard her say something about bringing supplies to Ghel,” said Aedin. “Candles or some such.”
“That’s right,” she said. “We were.”
From her nervous manner alone, it seemed clear that the supply story had been a lie. But lies were usually built on a truth. The girl wanted to reach the Leode. That was certain.
“But they all got left behind in the cart,” he said. All but the wooden case she kept with her at all times.
“Well, those weren’t the real cargo,” said Elenn. “We just had to have something to tell the Vitalion if we ran into a patrol.”
He nodded. “Obviously.”
“The truth,” she said slowly, “was that Aunt Ethelind was escorting me to Ghel, where I planned to take my vows and join the Sisters.”
“Virgin Sisters of Ghel?” he asked, incredulous. He had known girls who had gone to take vows, but none of them would have taken a week-long journey alone with a strange man. None of them would have chosen to wear scarlet.
“It’s true,” she said.
“Poverty? Chastity? Obedience?” he asked. Elenn was too strong-willed and contentious for him to believe she would go on her own. Of course some parents sent their brazen daughters to study with the sisters, hoping they would come home meek and modest. But Elenn’s parents were dead. So who would send her?
“You mock those virtues only because they have little meaning in a life like yours,” she said hotly.
Aedin grinned. “Had to practice all three from time to time. Never thought of them as virtues.”
“Maybe you should,” she said.
Aedin laughed.
“What’
s so funny?” she demanded.
“Thinking of how grateful the poor knave is,” he said, “who’s been spared the awful duty of taking you to wife.”
“You have no respect,” said Elenn, “for anything.” She stalked off into the darkness.
Aedin let her go. He didn’t chase after wounded bears or angry women. But the truth was that, temper or no temper, Elenn and her dowry were a great prize. If she told the truth, she was the last of her house, and looked to be close to twenty-one, the age of inheritance. So whoever married her would shortly gain the rights to her family’s titles, lands, and fortune.
He glanced over at Elenn’s battered chest, sitting at the edge of the fire light. From the look of the humble little tub-cart they had pushed off the road two days ago, the Adair fortune was expended. There was nothing of value the leather sack slung over Elenn’s back or in the chest he carried, unless there were some cunning secret compartment. So far, he had not found one.
This left only the mysterious wooden case. He had spent the last two days thinking of what might fit in a little box that size: precious gems, a magical elixir, or perhaps a cache of secret documents. It would be locked, of course, but if he could just get it off her he was sure he could have it open in a matter of minutes.
Elenn returned to the fire, her hands on her hips. “I just don’t understand you,” she said. “I would think you would understand how someone could dedicate himself, could sacrifice his life for a higher purpose.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Right there,” she said, lifting her hand to gesture vaguely in the direction of his right shoulder, “you’ve got that … ” Trailing off, she put her hand down and shrugged. “Forget it. Never mind.”
“No,” said Aedin, standing. “What?”
“Nothing,” said Elenn.
“This?” he asked, pointing to the scar of the brand on his right shoulder. “How’s this a sign of self-sacrifice? You can’t be stupid enough to think every outlaw is a rebel, just because that’s what the Vitalion say when they hang us.”
“No,” she said.
“What kind of idiot,” he continued, “would join the rebellion anyway? Why would I fight to get free of the Vitalion Emperor so I can bow down to Garrick the Goon?”
“I was pointing at your stupid bird-face sword!” said Elenn.
Puzzled, he pulled the Sithian saber from its sheath and brandished it at her. “This? Blade I stole off a dead man? How does this mark me as some kind of noble numpty?”
“You swore an oath to me,” she said, “on that sword.”
Aedin opened his mouth for a clever retort, but came up empty.
She rose and approached him. “Most people would call me a fool to have anything to do with you, let alone trust you. But when you spoke those words … I knew they meant something to you. That’s why I accepted your oath.” She shook her head. “Was I wrong?”
“Keep my end of the bargain,” he said, sheathing the sword.
“I know you will,” she said, nodding thoughtfully. “I see now. You’re a harsh judge of others, but even sterner with yourself.”
He rolled his eyes. “Merciful gods, but you’re credulous. Please tell me you don’t say this to every bandit.”
She smiled. “It really does bother you do be thought a man of honor. Why? You were a soldier once. You swore an oath then, too. What happened?”
“Another life,” said Aedin, “another man. Died years ago. No sense talking about it now.”
“No matter how painful, our pasts are part of who we are.” She reached one hand up toward his chest. Unsure what was happening, Aedin hesitated long enough for her to reach into his shirt and pull out the gold ring still hanging from a chain around his neck.
“This was my mother’s,” Elenn said, “and my sister’s. They’re gone now, like my aunt Ethelind. I feel those losses every day, like wounds.”
Aedin cleared his throat.
“But they’re part of who I am,” she said. “I embrace them.” She looked up at him with tears running down her cheeks and a sad smile on her lips.
“Done talking about this,” he said. “Good night.”
Elenn talked for a while after that, about the weather and food and the road ahead. Aedin ignored her. After a long while, she fell silent. By the time the fire died down to coals, Aedin was asleep.
***
Chapter Seventeen
Elenn woke up shivering. She was covered in dew, and as they ascended toward the highlands of Ghel, it was getting colder.
She turned her eyes toward the fire. It was out. And Aedin was gone. Had he abandoned her while she slept? Elenn stood and looked around, but she saw no sign of him in the brush.
“Aedin,” she said aloud. “Aedin, where are you?”
No reply came back but the calls of songbirds in the trees.
Fear, anger, and puzzlement all fought for primacy in her heart. Why had he been so upset last night? The man was a mystery. When she treated him with gentle forbearance and kindness, he treated her with callous indifference. When she lost her patience and accused him of knavish behavior—thievery, brawling, cursing, drunkenness, wantonness—he laughed.
Elenn sighed. Every time she thought he was opening up to her, he pushed her away. In retrospect, she saw that it had not been wise to pour out her heart to him last night. But she needed someone to talk to, and who else was there?
He was not a bad man, despite what he, himself, might think. Years ago, he had selflessly pledged his sword to the king. And still he fought, in his own way, to cleanse Deira of the Vitalion invaders. It was almost admirable.
“Aedin!” she called, her hands cupped. No answer.
She sat down on a log near the fire. It seemed cold, and she wasn’t sure how to restart it. She poked idly at the coals with a stick. Seeing some signs of life, she went to look for tinder. Everything Aedin had gathered the previous evening was used up.
She couldn’t blame him for wanting to hide his hurts. However, he had no right to treat her as he did. He had ignored her for the rest of the evening, despite her best attempts to rekindle a conversation. Apologies, entreaties, promises, accusations—all had fallen on deaf ears. It was she, not he, who had been wronged last night.
Returning with arms full of dead sticks, Elenn found Aedin already rebuilding the fire. Arranging small twigs into the shape of a cone atop the not-quite-dead coals, he didn’t so much as look up.
Hot anger welled up inside her, but she mastered it and placed her tinder on the ground next to him. “Aedin,” she began, “I’m glad to see you.”
Saying nothing, he selected a few of her sticks and added them to his cone.
“I hope you slept well,” said Elenn, sitting down on a log, so that she would be at eye level with him. She smiled graciously.
Aedin blew on the coals and the twigs began to smolder and smoke.
“I slept well. Like a rock,” Elenn added.
“I know,” Aedin said with a snort.
Elenn started to demand what he meant. But instead she gritted her teeth into the semblance of a smile. “Thank you for getting the fire going again,” she said. “It’s a lovely way to wake up.”
Aedin shrugged. “Wanted something to cook my fish,” he said.
Behind him, Elenn saw a forked stick propped against a nearby shrub. From the stick hung three redfin roaches that each looked to weigh half a pound or more.
“Got them while you were still snoring,” he said, smirking slightly. “Had to go stroll quite a ways. Fish don’t like loud noises.”
“I do not—” She swallowed the words, with difficulty. “I wondered if I might talk to you,” said Elenn, “about what I said last night—”
Aedin rolled his eyes. “Give you half a fish to stop talking,” he said, reaching for the first redfin.
Elenn stood, her face flushed and her mouth open to rebuke him. Was he trying to provoke her? She narrowed her eyes and put her hands on her hips, and drew a de
ep breath. But Aedin ignored her, the brute. He just gutted the fish and tossed their innards into the fire, where they hissed.
Aunt Ethelind had once said, “the only way to avoid the hook is to eschew the bait, no matter how delicious.” If Aedin was baiting her into a fight, Elenn was determined to deny him. She would not give him the satisfaction of pulling her down to his level.
Smiling to herself, Elenn sat down again and silently savored the aroma of broiled redfin. Soon he would apologize. How could he not? Her gentle rebuke for his cruel words hung in the air, all the more powerful for being unspoken. She would not prolong the torture, of course. The very instant he admitted his guilt, she would forgive him freely and frankly. The generosity of her pardon would both shame him and show him how civilized people behaved.
Breakfast concluded without a word spoken, however, and Elenn could not help but think that Aedin looked not tormented but pleased. Elenn decided that she would not be the one to speak first.
All that morning, she walked head of Aedin. He seemed happy to let her do so, or at least he did not complain, which is what Elenn had been hoping for.
The country they were passing through was so wet as to be misty, even hours after dawn. Peat moss was so thickly layered that the ground felt springy under Elenn’s feet. It made her slightly unsteady. The trees grew close together, and old man’s beard hung from many of the branches.
Perhaps because she could not see far, the air seemed very close and oppressive. The bog smelled of rot and of waste. And Elenn heard crows, which reminded her of the hideous feathered thing which had menaced her aunt Ethelind. She reached inside her kirtle to reassure herself that she still carried the Falarica in its case, but this merely reminded her that she had no idea how to use the relic if she were attacked.
To take her mind off her worries and fears, Elenn listened for the calls of other birds. She heard songbirds—warblers, robins, skylarks—and thought of her parrot finch, Gawaine. She wondered where he had flown, and hoped he had made his way home. As she strode on through the bog, she recognized ducks, red grouse, and what she thought was a heron.
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