She had no idea how many leagues lay between Tivston and Lowna. She'd heard it said among the peddlers in the marketplace that the distance could be covered in less than a day, but how much less? How far did her father expect her to go before her strength failed? Already she was weary; on any other night she would have been asleep by now. But she pushed herself on, and as she walked she tried to remember all that she had heard of the Fal'Borna.
Living in an Y'Qatt village, she heard little about the Qirsi clans. Teacher taught them about the Blood Wars, of course. He could hardly have taught the history of the Southlands without mentioning them. But it was one thing to hear tales of the Fal'Borna horsemen and their prowess in battle; it was quite another to know what they were like today. They were said to be shorter than other Qirsi, but more powerfully built. Their men and women wore their hair long and tied back from their faces. Some said that their skin was darker than that of the other clans, that they had lived on the plains for so long, their skin browned by the bright sun, that their babies were even born dark. Jynna wasn't certain that she believed this, but she knew so little else about them that she scoured her mind for anything she had ever heard, no matter how insignificant or foolish.
She did know that all the Qirsi clans rejected the faith of the Y'Qatt. Would they refuse to help her because she came from an Y'Qatt village? She nearly stopped, her resolve failing her for an instant. But no. Father had sent her on this errand. He wouldn't have done so if he thought the Qirsi of Lowna would turn her away. Her people were dying. How could they not help her?
On she went, her fatigue deepening with every step. As the hour grew later, Jynna began to cast anxious glances westward, toward the moons. They were low in the sky, and it wouldn't be long before they disappeared below the western horizon, leaving her in utter darkness.
As if sensing her fear, a wolf howled in the distance, and was answered by a second on the far side of the lake. Jynna shuddered and began walking faster. A moment later the first wolf called out again, drawing another cry from the second beast. On and on they went, their howls echoing across the lake. Jynna began to cry again, fear gripping her heart. The air had grown cold; she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to keep warm.
And still she walked, her steps growing heavier, the night darkening as the moons dropped lower and lower toward the plain. Mist rose from the lake, chilling her more and giving an unearthly feel to the terrain. When at last the moons did disappear, Jynna started to cry, though she really had no reason. Enough light remained, cast by the stars and reflected in the waters of the lake, for her to see. And even had she been immersed in complete darkness the sound of the water gently lapping at the muddy lakeshore would have enabled her to find her way.
Still, she had never felt so alone, and it occurred to her that it had been some time since last she'd noticed any fire streaking across the southern sky. She tried to tell herself that she'd come too far, that Tivston was so far away by now that she wouldn't have noticed the flames had there been hundreds of them. In her heart, though, she knew better.
But she walked on.
Eventually she must have fallen into a waking dream, some nether realm between sleep and wakefulness, for she abruptly found herself on a dusty lane, with small houses on either side of her. For a moment she merely stood in place, tottering on trembling legs, looking about, trying to remember where she was and why she had come. Then she began to sob and moan and cry out for help, all at the same time.
At first nothing happened. She heard horses neighing and stamping, but she neither heard nor saw any people, and her despair grew unbearable. But then the pale glow of a candle appeared in one window, and a moment later a second. Soon there was light all around her. Doors opened. There were shouts and footsteps. Somehow she had fallen to the ground and was lying on her back. Men and women stood over her, looks of concern on their faces. Qirsi faces, but darker than any she'd seen before. Perhaps the tales were true. That is, if this was indeed Lowna, and these were the Fal'Borna.
A man bent over her and lifted her into his arms, just as her father had done with her mother. Her mother, who was dying of the pestilence.
Had that been a dream, or was this? Was it even the same night? Abruptly frightened, she struggled to break free of the man's grasp, but he held her tight, and carried her toward one of the houses, toward that warm glow of candle flame.
She ceased her struggles and gave in to her weariness. The last thing she remembered was someone asking her name.
Jynna awoke to the sound of whispers. Opening her eyes, she saw three men standing over her, all of them Qirsi, all of them with their hair tied back and their faces burned golden brown, the color of dry grasses swaying in the plains wind. The Fal'Borna.
Her eyes flew to the window beside the bed on which she lay. The sun was up, shining brightly into the room. She let out a low moan and covered her face with her hands. By now they were all dead. Mama, Papa, Delon, Blayne. All of them. Quite likely, everyone in Tivston. She should have been crying, but no tears would come. She just felt weary, as if she hadn't slept in days.
"Who are you?" one of the men asked, his voice even, matter-of-fact. She uncovered her face and looked up at them. They were all watching her, waiting. She had no idea which of them had spoken. For all she could tell, they might have been brothers, so much did they look alike. "Where are you from? Why did you come here?"
That one. He appeared to be the youngest of the three. He had a handsome, square face, and eyes that were so pale they were almost white.
"I'm from… from Tivston."
The three of them glanced at one another.
"You're Y'Qatt," another said. Now that she was looking at them more closely, Jynna realized that their appearances weren't so similar after all. This man was smaller than the other two. His face was rounder, his eyes a deeper shade of yellow. He was older than the first man; quite a bit older it seemed. There were lines around his eyes and mouth.
She nodded.
"Why are you here?" this second man asked.
"Everyone was dying," she said. "My father sent me to get help. He told me to go north, to Lowna." She hesitated. "Is this Lowna?"
They didn't answer.
The young one exhaled through his teeth and looked from one of his companions to the other. "The pestilence?"
The third man held up a hand, silencing the other two. Then he looked down at her, a slight frown on his face. "You're telling us that an Y'Qatt sent his child to get help from the Fal'Borna?"
She nodded.
"And he was willing to let us use magic to help you?"
"Yes."
He shook his head. "I don't believe you. It's a trick," he said to the other two. "I'd wager she's from the J'Balanar, or the A'Vahl."