Guinalle shrugged. “Not that I know of, but I don’t see why that should dissuade us from the attempt.”
“That’s the spirit that put the House of Priminale on the Imperial throne!” Den Fellaemion laughed and hugged Guinalle to him as they walked back into the cavern, though now Temar could see the support the older man was taking from Guinalle’s slender shoulders.
Temar left them talking to Avila and went to help Vahil, who was giving orders in a listless monotone to women and children whose movements were no less dull and unthinking. However, a hot meal, sparse though it was, did seem to put heart into the gathering. As the noise level rose through the cavern Temar saw the force of Guinalle’s argument that the enchantment had to be worked quickly as he began to hear questions and even disputes on all sides.
“My friends!” Den Fellaemion’s voice rang through the cavern, silencing the tumult of voices so that an expectant hush hung in the dim air. “You all know that our situation is grave and I have still more grievous news to give you. Those valiant enough to remain with the boats that brought us here attempted to strike down river this morning in the hopes of breaking through to the open sea and summoning help. I cannot lie to you, my friends, they have failed.” The Messire lifted his voice above sudden weeping and laments from distant corners of the great cave. “They spent their lives in our defense and Saedrin will speed them to the Otherworld with all due honor, do not doubt it. However, this means that for the present we are trapped with little food or fuel to sustain us, or so our enemies would have us believe and so despair.”
Temar looked around and saw faces raised, questioning this obscure pronouncement, wondering at the new ring of defiance in the Messire’s voice, searching for hope or reassurance.
“We have all seen the dark use these invaders have made of Artifice.” Contempt sounded harsh in Den Fellaemion’s words. “What they do not know is that we have Artifice of our own to defeat their foul purposes. We may be trapped for the moment, but we have the means to summon help and it will come, never fear. While we wait, I have decided that Artifice will protect us from all that we lack. Demoiselle Guinalle and her adepts are to give us an enchanted sleep, a respite by the grace of Arimelin, where our grief and wounds will be healed, keeping us safe from all detection until the full wrath of the Empire falls upon these savages and makes them rue the day they ever set foot on our new lands!”
A murmur of startled questions began to circulate around the gathering. Den Fellaemion let it grow for a moment until raising his hand once more for silence. “As we sleep, Esquire Den Rannion will lead a hand-picked team through the caves and out to the far valley, marching thence to the new settlement in the south. He will take your reassurances to your friends and family there, then use the ocean ships to take everyone far from any chance of harm and to summon the help that will drive these worthless midden-dogs from the lands we have worked so hard to tame.”
A ragged scatter of applause greeted this announcement. Temar saw a faint spark of life relit in his friend’s eyes, new determination forcing Vahil’s head up and his shoulders back.
“These carrion crows can scavenge on the hollow bones of their victory for the present, but I swear to you they will soon be put to flight. Enjoy your meal, my friends, my apologies that it is so humble, and then we will settle ourselves to wait out this siege in peace and contentment. When we wake, I promise you a better feast, something to look forward to before we start to rebuild our colony.” The total confidence that rang through Den Fellaemion’s words was having its effect on the shocked and demoralized people, Temar saw. He heard questions on all sides, over what such sleep might be like, what they might find when they woke, but no one was disputing the proposal itself.
“Will you be with Esquire Den Rannion?” A stout woman whom Temar vaguely recognized as a former tenant caught at his arm.
“No.” He shook his head, forcing confidence into his voice. “There’s no need. I shall wait here with you all, to make sure there’s someone ready to give a full account to our rescuers. If you’ve finished your food, I suggest you make ready. Wrap up warmly if you can.”
The woman nodded, familiar obedience to authority something to cling to in the midst of the catastrophe that had befallen them all, Temar realized. He pushed his way through the crowd, those adept in Artifice surrounded on all sides by questions and demands for more information, Guinalle in particular at the center of a vociferous knot of people.
“All you need concern yourself over is choosing something precious to you, to focus your mind on while I work the enchantment.” Guinalle was soothing a young mother perilously close to tears as she clutched her three children to her.
“If we all need something, I have so little, my husband—” the girl’s lip quivered and her eyes filled, her distress visibly infecting her children and many of those closest to her.
“We can manage easily enough.” Guinalle’s voice was warm with reassurance. “You keep that ring, and why don’t we give your necklace to your eldest daughter?”
The girl brought a trembling hand to her throat. “My mother gave me this on my wedding day. I always wear it. I was going to—”
“She can have the chain, and here, let’s put the pendant on this ribbon,” Guinalle broke in briskly. She suited her actions to her words, unfastening the necklace with gentle hands and unthreading a length of braided silk from the purse at her own waist. “The little one can have that. It’s a good choice, too. If the girls are used to seeing you wearing this, it will hold their attention so much better, excellent for the workings of the Artifice.”
She raised her voice a little to address those gathered closest. “This is the kind of thing you should be looking for, a small trinket that has particular meaning for you and yours.”
Guinalle’s confident tone wavered just a little as her gaze fell on the oldest child. She looked around and Temar saw a mute appeal in her eyes. He stepped forward to kneel beside the boy, a lithe lad with coppery blond hair and wide eyes, blue as a spring sky, with a sprinkling of freckles over his snub nose.
“Would you like this, so the lady can work her enchantment over you?” Temar unbelted his tunic and wrapped the leather strap twice around the skinny waist as the boy nodded silently, eyes huge in his pale face. “Now, you concentrate on this buckle,” he commanded. “This is an heirloom of the House D’Alsennin. If you can do this, take care of it for me, when you wake up I’ll make you my page and you can keep it. Do you agree?”
The lad nodded again, a faint smile on his lips, and Temar looked up at the mother. “You see, we can easily find something if we all help each other out. After all, it’s only something to center the Artifice upon.”
“The children are so tired, I think it would only be right to let them sleep as soon as possible,” Guinalle led the feebly protesting woman toward Avila. “Let the demoiselle help you settle them.”
Temar caught Guinalle’s hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze, which won a faint smile from her to warm his heart. “The trick to success here is going to be getting it done fast,” she said with determination.
“Then let’s get started,” replied Temar, setting his face to the daunting task.
He settled the boy between his two little sisters and wrapped all three children securely together in a warm woollen cloak. “Lie back now,” he instructed them softly, tucking a coarse blanket around them with gentle hands.
“All you have to do is close your eyes and think about your special thing.” Guinalle knelt beside the children with an encouraging smile. “Do you all have something to hold on to?”
The children nodded, wide eyed, and the smallest girl wriggled one hand free to solemnly proffer an enamelled silver flower on a silken cord.