She went straight to the bathing pool, forcing her mind not to dwell on her time there with Mark of Windhaw. That had been a weakness she would never repeat. The shame of being so easily duped would gnaw her soul if permitted. She did not have time to dwell on her foolishness or his perfidy; she had an injured child to heal. Clean and refreshed, she climbed out and dried herself quickly, pulling on a clean shift and her brushed-down gown.
As she bent to gather the damp drying cloths and her old shift, she noticed a crumpled pile of white linen--Mark of Windhaw's forgotten shirt. Much as it would have satisfied her soul to cast the garment on her fire, she decided, no. The shirt would serve as cover for the lad's nakedness. Clothing him would be a difficulty. Eadwyn and Eadyyl had cut down their shifts and gowns to fit her as a child, but a boy needed breeches. The shirt was a start. If only she'd stolen, as she had first planned, from Mark of Windhaw's packs.
Too late for that! Somehow she would fashion clothes for the child. And until he could move with ease, the shirt would serve. She ate a hasty breakfast of fruit and a handful of last year's waynuts. The child slept on so she didn't venture far from the cave. She had yesterday's--admittedly small--harvest of herbs and roots and in the days ahead would need generous amounts of salve and potions.
She spent the day preparing infusions for when the child awoke. She climbed the far wall of the warm shrine to where her birds nested and found three brown eggs. These she set in the warm pool to cook for when the boy woke needing food. A convalescing child needed more than roots. Some of Mark's ham or cheese would be welcome. For the second time she regretted not raiding his saddlebags. She did, though, leave the boy long enough to walk to where her goats grazed, returning with a bowl of warm milk.
By late afternoon, the child stirred, and, with Adriana's help, hobbled out into the open to relieve himself. He barely woke and scarcely spoke before falling asleep again. As she covered him back with the furs, Adriana remembered the crutches Eadyyl had fashioned so she could walk those long years ago.
A tree, a short walk away, furnished two forked branches. Adriana stripped away the bark as she sat watching the sunset. Gathering the shavings into a pile for tinder, she smoothed the wood and bound the wide fork at the top of each with strips of leather. The height she would gauge when the child woke.
Early the next morning she changed his dressings. He barely stirred as she loosed the bandages, and Adriana was pleased to see the smallest wounds healing already. Must be the powers of Rache's water and the magick stirred into the healing potions. When the child woke completely, she would immerse him in the warm spring,
Astrians were animals! No, lower than animals! No beast of the forest used their young thus! Looking at the dark bruises on the child's face, Adriana took an oath to herself and Rache. No one would ever harm this boy again. He would stay here, deep in the forest, and never venture near the destroying Astrians.
She had thrived under Eadyyl and Eadwyn's care. So would he. He could learn the forest ways. Seldom had a boy studied magick, but was there any law or custom to prohibit it? She must ask her mentors. When the child's leg healed they could travel to visit the shrine of Aenwath and consult the two priestesses who'd reared her.
* * *
The boy woke refreshed and ravenous early the next morning. She gave him the crutches and he gladly hobbled out to relieve himself. Seeing how he was still shamed by his nudity, Adriana wrapped her cloak around him while he fed. He wolfed down the eggs, most of her store of roasted roots, two large cups of goat's milk and a pile of the berries she'd gathered before she found him.
Sated, he leaned back against the cave wall and asked, "Lady, who are you, and where am I?"
"I am Adriana, and this is my home. I found you injured and brought you here. Who are you?"
He hesitated, an uneasy frown between his wary eyes. "I am Pait. I thank you for your aid." There was a strange formality in his speech and a clear hesitation and uncertainty. That, she understood.
"Pait, those who tried to harm you will never find you here."
"But they would harm my lord...I must warn him."
"I think first, you must wash. I don't know how long you lay in the forest, but you have slept here nigh on two days. Once you are clean, I have a shirt you may wear. Other clothes, we must make shift. Keep my cloak around you and I will take you to the warm pool."
His wonder equaled Mark of Windhaw's. Pait stood open-mouthed as he wobbled on his crutches. "What is this place, lady?"
"A safe haven from the harm and hurt in the world." She led him to the warm cascade, gave him a drying cloth and Mark's discarded shirt--now folded smooth--and left Pait to his ablutions. "When you have washed, I will redress your wounds and shorten your crutches so you can move more easily. If you need me, call."
He took half the morning washing. She resisted the temptation to offer help and took the time to build up the fire and prepare more roots for roasting. Seeing Pait eat brought back memories of the quantities her brother had eaten. She would need to increase her stores, but for now her roots and nuts would sustain them both for a day or two. She wanted to ask the boy who had mistreated him and why, but remembering her own horror for days after the assault on her village, she resolved to hold back. Give Pait time to heal, let him realize he was safe, and, once she had earned his trust, he would tell her.
It might take weeks, but she had time.
Roots set in the embers to roast, she went back into her store for some of last season's dried drupes. They were shriveled but still sweet, and Pait would like them.
* * *
"Lady, where is my lord?" Pait cried out, as he hobbled toward her, the shirt covering him to his knees, dragging her cloak behind him.
"Pait," she began, "who is your lord, and why should I know where he is?"
The boy drew himself up as straight as he could on too-tall crutches. "I am sworn to Mark of Windhaw, and here his is token!" He pulled the cloak from behind him and tossed it at her. Overbalancing as one crutch shifted, he fell in a heap.
A token! Mark of Windhaw! The silver button she'd sewn into her cloak pocket, back when she was still enamored with her Astrian lover, but... She put her thoughts and questions on hold as she went to help Pait, who was using all his strength to sit upright. He accepted her help unwillingly.
"You have harmed him! You will suffer for that when the emperor hears!"
A brave child--was he unaware of his isolation and helplessness? "Pait, come and sit by the fire. Tell me about your lord, and why you believe he was here."
He reached for her cloak and, as she'd suspected, turned out the pocket and exposed the silver button. "That is my lord's token," Pait said. "He had it embossed on the buttons of his tunic. The oatlen tree is the sign of his house."
The same tree engraved on the gold ring that still hung around her neck. "Yes, Pait. He was here. Wrap the cloak around you and listen to me." Now, how much to tell? "Your lord, Mark of Windhaw, was here. He was lost in the mist. Three days ago. He stopped to rest, and we shared our food...," no need to dwell on what else they'd shared, "...and, after washing--that discarded shirt was his, left by accident--he went on his way."
Pait bit his lip, his eyes misty with worry. "Did he say, lady, where he was going?"
"To Merridale."
The child's eyes filled with tears and he shook his head. "Then I have, indeed, betrayed him!"
"Unlikely!"
He reached forward and grasped her sleeve. "Lady, you do not understand!"
That much was clear. "Make me understand, Pait."
He nodded, sniffed back his tears and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Lady," he began, "this is what happened..."
Adriana listed with curiosity, interest and then mounting horror. "They tortured you, knowing you served Mark of Windhaw?"
"Lady, they tortured me because I served him. I did not understand, at first, why the commander took the sigil and refused to return it. Then he asked questions, more tha
n seemed right, and when I refused to answer, he called the inquisitor. I knew then that whatever they asked, I must not tell. But when the pain began...," he paused to sniff and shudder, "...I would have told them anything to make them stop. And now I have betrayed my lord. They sent messengers ahead to the master of Merridale." He looked down at his injured feet and held up his injured hands, bleeding from grasping the crutches. "If they did this to me, what will they do to him?"
It was the tears trailing down the child's cheeks that almost undid Adriana. "Nothing if we can prevent it!" His wide eyes and dropped jaw echoed the astonishment swirling in her mind. She was proposing aiding an Astrian--and at some considerable risk to herself. What did she think she could do against a company of soldiers? Whatever was possible!
"What can we do, lady? I'm crippled and you are a witch of the--" He broke off, coloring and looking everywhere but at her.
"I am a witch of the woods?" she finished. "Yes, I know what you Astrians call the priestesses of the Goddess. They think we are insane old women gathering herbs. They err." As she spoke she felt the power of Rache rise within her. She must not waste it on anger and her indignation. She must plan this. Carefully.
"Pait, first let me bind up your hands and feet again. Then let me think what we must do."
He sat quietly as she ripped up a spare shift for more bandages and dressed his wounds with salve. As she finished, she brewed an herb infusion for both of them, then helped him outside to sit in the last light of the failing afternoon.
"We must plan what to do to help your master." And her lover... "Tell me, Pait, when did they abandon you in the woods?"
He frowned, thinking back. "I remember lying there all afternoon and through the dark before you found me."
"And when did they leave Fort Antin?"
"That morning early. Quel told them to take me into the forest the evening before. But they left it until morning. I heard them muttering they would not venture into the woods near nightfall."
So it was three days since they had left him, and two since Mark had ridden away. But Astrians would travel around the forest... "Their cowardice gives us a little time and advantage, Pait. Are you afraid of traveling through the forest?"
He took a deep breath. "Not with you, lady."
He was a poor liar, but she could not but appreciate his courage. "They will not dare travel through it, of that I am certain. Did the party headed for Merridale leave the same time as the party that abandoned you in the forest?"
"They left ahead of us, lady."
Bad news. They could well be ahead of Mark of Windhaw, but perhaps she could overtake him and warn him. If not they could at least reach Merridale. "We need to leave as soon as we can get ready. I know faster paths than the ways used by the soldiers."
"Lady," Pait looked at her, his face worried, "I can scarce walk."
"You can ride on Hareth." He looked as if stumbling on foot was preferable. "Not on a rough travois. You may ride. Not the best way to travel, but it will suffice." She paused. "Quel's men may arrive before us. We must avoid them. There is little likelihood they will be watching for you, but even so, someone may recognize you. We will hide you."
"Lady, if my lord is in danger, I will not hide."
"You will hide in plain sight, Pait. Listen. I travel to Merridale once or twice a year to barter herbs and potions for trade goods. I will make an extra trip this year." She smiled at him. "No one will remark if I have an assistant. When I was a child I traveled there with my mentors."
"Lady, I have only this shirt! I cannot go like this!"
She smiled at his outraged sense of modestly. "We can manage better. I will cut down an old gown and tuck up that cloak. You must go as a girl, I'm afraid. We have no time to alter a gown into breeches and, if they are by any chance watching for you, they will not be looking for a girl."
His face showed what he thought of that plan, but he said nothing. "When will we leave, lady?"
"As soon as I can get ready. There is a strong moon tonight so the dark will not hamper us. If we go straight through the forest--a way those traitorous soldiers would not dare--we can be in Merridale by midday." What they would do when they reached Merridale, she had no idea. She could scarcely stand in the market place and call for Mark of Windhaw, but she had hours ahead to plan that step.
Once they got going.
* * *
It took less time than she'd anticipated. Pait helped, hobbling on his crutch to fill waterleathers, and fitting packets of herbs, pots of salve and vials of potions into packs. Adriana gathered together most of her food in case of delays, or if they needed to hide. She would not share her anxieties with Pait, but if they did find Mark, what could three of them do against a traitorous garrison?
Enough forward worries! She must concentrate on her first task, getting herself and Pait to Merridale ahead of Quel's men--if possible. While Pait packed dried fruit and cheese in the last bag, she hacked off the bottom of her old cloak and tacked up the hem. Then she set to fashioning a skirt of the trimmings. Mark's old shirt would serve as a shift and petticoat, and she had an old shawl that she used during winter. Pait could wear that on top.
He was none too impressed at his clothing, but he thanked her politely, and acquiesced willingly to her suggestion that they bind up his foot even more. "If they think you have a club foot or a deformity, they will look at you even less closely," she said.
He nodded, knowing the Astrian's ways even better than Adriana.
* * *
Before leaving the shrine, Adriana called up the water and wove a mist. If the Astrians overcame their fear of the forest, she did not want them desecrating the sacred ground. Pait watched, his eyes wide with wonder--or was it fear?--as the mist rose at her bidding.
"Lady," he whispered, his voice tight with awe. "Is it devil magick you work?"
"Magick, yes, but magick of power and protection." Her heart cramped a little, remembering the victims she'd lured with her mist. "I am a priestess of the waters--I have learned how to raise mists." And used that power to avenge her murdered family. Enough! This was not the time to dwell on that or the years between. Pait had confirmed her instincts about Mark of Windhaw. She had spared him enchantment, but let him ride into danger from those he trusted. He would, mayhap, have been safer wandering the forest!
As they set off through the dark trees in the moonlight, she wondered briefly about her other victims. Had they too been honorable? No, they had taken her harshly, seeing her as a creature to be used, the feeling being mutual--until Mark of Windhaw. Before Mark, it had been nearly three years since she'd trapped the last Astrian. Did Mark, mayhap, mark a new Astrian? She shook her head. If the new Astrians were the ones who'd abused Pait, the new were no better than the old! But as she trod softly through the woods she thought about Mark's mission. If there were others who believed what Mark did, others sent out by the emperor to impose justice and establish foundations of learning, maybe a new world without hate and repression might dawn. Small wonder there were those who'd stop Mark! And they would succeed if she did not find him first.
She steered Hareth by pulling on the halter. Pait, perched atop the laden goat, smiled at her. How he trusted her! That too was an added worry. What if she never found Mark of Windhaw? What if he'd been waylaid on the road?
She could smother her soul with what-ifs! She must succeed. Find Mark of Windhaw. Warn him of the treachery, and then... She took a deep breath. She would hand Pait into his care and return to her home in the forest. All seemed satisfactory but the last. Impossible! She had her sworn oath. She must return. She had no choice.
She set her mind to the problem of how to find Mark of Windhaw in the teeming streets of Merridale. She had friends (well, not friends), but she had people she knew. The hostler where she stabled her goat, and Host Martten who ran the Demented Hare and always rented her an attic room at a fair price. He knew most of the gossip in the town. She would ask him about newcomers, or envoys from the emper
or.
That decided, she settled into a steady rhythmic march. The moon was past its zenith. She had perhaps three more hours before dawn, and the peace and quiet of the forest seemed to be soothing rather than frightening Pait. He was half-dozing against the packs on Hareth's back.
Yes, it was a fine Goddess-given night, and the way was clear and firm underfoot. Perfect.
It was fifteen or twenty minutes further on that she first noticed the smell of smoke.
CHAPTER SIX
Not a forest fire. It was too low and too little--unless just started. But who would be lighting night fires in the forest--or on the fringes? They were just a few hundred paces from where the Merri ran along the rim of the forest before heading toward Merridale. Adriana shook her head. She had not planned on encountering anyone until she neared the town, but arriving with other travelers might make their arrival less conspicuous.
Entering Merridale aside, she needed to know who lingered on the forest fringes. If the Astrians were overcoming their fear of the woods, it could only spell worry. She still saw them as enemy even as she went to rescue one. Life had its twists.
Pait woke as she stopped and anchored Hareth to a sapling. "Lady, is something amiss?"
She shook her head. "I think not but there are people close. I must go and see."
Even in the half-light of moonlight, she saw Pait tense. "What if it is Quel's men?"
"We avoid them! I know the forest far better than they do."
He seemed satisfied with her reply. "You stay here. Make sure Hareth does not eat himself free of his tether and wait until I return."
Watching the light flickering through the trees, she moved cautiously, easing through the shadows until she stood close enough to see. There were just three of them-- two asleep, wrapped in their cloaks, and a third watching. Close by, their horses waited. As she watched, the seated one stood up and put more fuel on the fire. He was only a lad! Two men and a boy, equipped with horses and traveling cross-country. Merchants usually traveled in caravans and soldiers in troops, but she remembered Mark's words about other audit parties. Could this be one? If so, why were they here? Weren't they all working different quadrants? Were they soldiers?
PARADOX II Page 6
