“Probably,” Stephen admitted.
“And if I take your meaning, you’re saying we should ride hell-bent for a forest in Hornladh based on nothing more than this silly wordplay?”
“Exactly,” Stephen promptly replied.
“And—let’s get this clear—even you don’t think you’re right about this?”
“A blind shot in the dark,” Stephen allowed.
Aspar scratched his chin. “Let’s get going, then,” he said. “That’s twenty leagues if it’s a yard.”
“Wait!” Leshya protested. “If he’s wrong—”
“He’s not wrong,” Aspar said.
“What about the nicwer?” Ehawk asked. “We still have to cross the river.”
“There’s a ford a league downstream,” Aspar told him. “If it follows us there, at least we’ll be able to see it. After that we can double back to the Old King’s Road. It goes straight to Dunmrogh.” He nodded at Stephen and Winna. “You two help Ehawk get mounted. Leshya, you come with me and we’ll get some supplies from the tavern.”
He saw Winna’s frown, and felt a flash of exasperation. Leshya was the only one of them immune to the song of the nicwer. Didn’t Winna know it made more sense for the Sefry to go back to town with him? After all, there might be more than one of the beasts in the river.
He didn’t say anything, though. He wasn’t going to embarrass himself by explaining something that ought to be understood. Winna still had a lot of learning to do.
“Keep a close watch on the river,” he said instead. “Yell if you see anything. And put something in your ears.”
“You should do the same,” Winna shot back.
“Then I couldn’t hear you yell, could I?” he countered, starting off toward town, Leshya a pace behind him.
9
Sorority
For a moment Anne’s tongue was frozen by surprise. “I’m sorry?” she asked, finally. “Who do you mean? I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”
“I haven’t,” Osne said. “Word came to me that you might pass this way. Do you think it coincidence that my husband found you?” She placed her hands on the table, palms up. “Sister Ivexa,” she said softly. “One sister of the coven Saint Cer did not die in the attack, and the coven has many graduates and allies across the land. Word has spread quickly both of your plight and of your pursuers.”
Anne felt as if all she had to walk upon was a sword’s edge beneath her feet. The simple thought that someone actually knew who she was and wanted to help her instead of kill her was nearly too much to accept. It ran hard up against the fact that this could just be another betrayal in fair disguise.
She was far too tired to parse out which was more likely. “If you wanted me dead, you could have had that,” Anne said.
“I do not wish any harm to you, Anne,” Osne assured her.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to easily trust words like that.” She placed one hand flat on the table, feeling the solidity of the wood. “Who survived the massacre?” she asked.
“You did not know her as a sister,” Osne said, “and in some ways she is not, but more.”
Anne knew then, without thinking, as if she had always known. “The countess Orchaevia.”
Osne nodded. “Unfortunately, you fled her estates before she was aware of what was happening. But now you are among friends again.”
“What do you want from me?” Anne asked warily.
Osne reached across the table and took her hand. “Only to help you return to Eslen and your destiny.”
Anne felt the callused hand in hers, as substantial and real as the table.
“You—you are a sister of the coven, Osne?”
“I attended,” the older woman said. “I did not take my vows, but still when they call, I will answer. I would not risk all for the coven Saint Cer—not my life, or the life of my husband and sons—but I will risk them for you, Anne Dare. I have seen. The Faiths have sent me dreams.”
“The Faiths!” Anne exclaimed. “You know of them? Who are they?”
“Some claim they are merely very powerful seers, others say they are as old as the world, goddesses of fate. Even the sisters of the coven argued over their nature. I think the truth lies somewhere between, myself. What cannot be denied is their wisdom. Whether they are centuries old or eons old, they have seen more of this world than we, and they know much more of its future.” She paused. “You have seen them, spoken to them?”
“Three of them,” Anne said.
Osne sighed. “I have never been so blessed as to be called. I have heard their voices in my dreams, caught glimpses of what they see, that is all. You are a lucky young woman.”
“I don’t feel lucky,” Anne said. “I feel trapped.”
“We are all trapped,” Osne said, “if that’s how you want to think of it.”
“Is there another way?” Anne asked.
“Yes,” Osne said. “We are all vital. Each of us may be just a thread, but without the threads, there is no tapestry.”
“Then how can one thread be more important than the others?”
“Some threads are warp and some are weft,” Osne said. “The warp must be there to weave the other threads through. The warp must be there first.”
“You’re as bad as the Faiths.” Anne sighed.
Osne smiled and gripped her hand more tightly. “They’ve told you what you must do, haven’t they? And given you at least some hint of why.”
Anne conceded that with a nod. “It’s not that I’m fighting it,” she said. “I’ve been trying to return to Eslen.”
“And now you shall,” Osne vowed. “My husband and sons will take you across the river and past your enemies in town. They will escort you to Eslen.”
“I can’t go straight home,” Anne told her. “Not yet.”
“But you just said that was your goal,” Osne said.
“The two men who rescued me at the coven, and have been protecting me since, were captured by the horsemen. I have to rescue them first.”
Osne’s brow bunched in worry. “I’m sorry about your friends,” she said, “but they aren’t your first duty.”
“Maybe not,” Anne said, “but I won’t leave them to die. I have to do something.”
Osne closed her eyes. “That’s not the path you’re supposed to walk.”
“I can choose another path?”
Osne hesitated. “Yes. But then the future becomes cloudy.”
“Let it. If I’m not true to my friends, whom can I be true to? What good am I to anyone?”
Osne closed her eyes for a moment. “How many horsemen are with your friends?”
“Artore saw them. He said three.”
“Then I will send Artore and my sons after them, and find a safe place for you until they return.”
“No,” Anne said. “I want to go with them.”
“They may not succeed,” Osne said softly. “If one of the knights is a marevase, they might not succeed.”
“A what?” Anne asked.
“One who cannot die. They have other names.”
“Oh,” Anne said. “One of them is like that,” she said. “Maybe more.”
“Then you know the risk is great.”
“You’d send your husband and sons to their deaths, just to get me to Eslen?”
“I’d rather not,” Osne admitted. “I’d rather you let them escort you home. There would still be some risk in that, but not like sending them to battle a marevase.”
“You don’t understand,” Anne said. “These men—Cazio and z’Acatto—risked everything for us.”
“And so would we, dear.”
“I see that,” Anne flared. “I’m tired of people dying for me, do you understand? I can’t take any more of it.”
“People die for their queens,” Osne exclaimed. “That is a burden you must accept, or there is no point in you reaching Eslen. There are much harder decisions than this ahead of you, Anne.”
“Cazio and z’Acatto know nothing about my supposed destiny,” she said. “And I’m sure if I do nothing they will die. But how can I risk your family, too?”