She knew they shouldn’t need code words, because they had the Way. No one could eavesdrop on them. But still, something seemed off about Finn’s reply. If he didn’t tell her any more the next day, she fretted over riding after him. That might put her out of range of Jilly’s horses. She couldn’t help but fear the worst. The horse and human kings of Leana should not have been the ones to go into a strange village, no matter what the queen’s message said.
15
THE VILLAGE IN THE STONES
The moment Anthea woke, she and Florian tried and tried to contact Finn or Marius or even Constantine. For several hours she waited for a response that never came. Sick with worry, she had told Jilly to come quick, but even then could not stand to wait for her.
Anthea didn’t bother to pack, and she didn’t take Leonidas, which made him huff and pout. She needed to move fast, and Jilly would be there soon enough. Anthea did take her pistol, though, and some water and food for herself and Finn, along with a first aid kit.
What if they had shot Finn?
What if they had thrown his medicine away, and he had done something stupid to try and recover it? The village was full of Leanan families, according to the queen, but they were Leanans who had never seen a live horse. They had been raised, as Anthea had, as the queen herself had, on the myths of the bad old days when the diseased horses had died and their traitorous riders had been exiled.
“We should have gone with him,” Anthea said aloud.
Florian flicked his ears to show that he was listening. He didn’t say anything, though, just kept moving ahead, through the trees and snow. They were able to move much faster than Finn, since he’d been leading another horse and both his animals had been heavily laden.
Too heavily laden to run very fast if someone shot at them. Anthea couldn’t stop her brain from picturing it. She couldn’t think of any other reason why it felt like Finn and his horses were just … gone. It wasn’t that they hadn’t sent her any messages in hours; it was that she couldn’t feel them at all. Neither could Florian.
They had disappeared.
The road was easy to distinguish, which was another good thing. Thick brambles grew between the trees, which mostly still had leaves, since this region didn’t usually get snow or even very cold temperatures. There were still berries here and there, besides the thorns and random scraps and bits of nature caught in the brambles that made them an impassible wall.
They trotted down the muddy, snowy, awful road with barely any light to guide them. The trees met overhead, and the sky was overcast to boot. Anthea almost broke out into one of Jilly’s favorite ballads, just to hear something beyond the pounding of her pulse and Florian’s hooves, but didn’t dare. She felt like they were already making too much noise.
They broke through the trees and the road ended rather abruptly. Or, it continued on, but the land was so bare that it hardly mattered. The muddy ground ahead of her, patched with snow, showed signs of boot prints, wheels, and the hooves of oxen, but it was all a mess of people heading in different directions.
This didn’t alarm her. What did alarm her were the stones. At first Anthea thought they were passing through a gate, but then she looked around and saw that they were actually walking into a ring of standing stones, higher than her head even as she sat on Florian, and as wide as her outstretched arms, if not wider. They were spaced far enough apart that a pair of carts could have driven through side by side, and the ring stretched away to each side. Anthea couldn’t even see the entire ring, because right in the middle was the village.
It was quite large, actually, with a church in the center and a double row of shops and small businesses coming down the main road from the churchyard. The cottages radiated out from the main street in an orderly fashion, and there was one large manor house to the right, which was where Anthea steered Florian. There was no sign of life on the main street, so the manor seemed like the best place to start looking for Finn.
She pointed Florian in that direction, and they passed between the stones. Anthea brushed at her forehead. It felt like she’d ridden through a cobweb, but there was nothing there. Florian drew up immediately.
What is it, my darling?
Constantine!
But Anthea hardly needed Florian’s warning cry. She felt Constantine in her mind abruptly, just as she heard Constantine’s scream: the sound of a herd stallion defending his territory, warning the intruders that he was there, and ready to fight.
“That big idiot,” Anthea said under her breath. “Is he challenging us?”
I shall answer, Florian said.
I suppose you have to. But where is he?
There.
Florian nodded toward the manor house, and then he raised his head and bugled. It wasn’t the same challenge that Constantine had issued; Florian would never dare to do such a thing. No, this was merely a response to Constantine, an identification of who Florian was.
“Who does he think it is? What other horses would be here?” Anthea grumbled to herself. Don’t tell him I said that, dear, she added to Florian.
Anthea gave Florian a gentle nudge with her heels, and he started walking again. After a minute, another call came from Constantine, different from his cry of challenge. Florian sped up to a trot.
What is it? Where is Finn? Is Marius all right? What did Con say?
The herd stallion bids us come, was Florian’s only reply.
As Florian carried her to Constantine, Anthea looked around as best she could. It was a very quaint village. There was no sign of gaslights or motorcars, but everything was neat as a pin and the gray stone and slate roofs of every building made the whole place look carefully planned.
And empty. Where was everyone? Were they all sick in bed? Or … dead?
“Finn! Finn!” Anthea yelled his name, but then she felt stupid.
All she was doing was telling whatever villagers were left that there was yet another intruder. She stood up in her stirrups instead and looked around for any sign of life—Finn or a stranger—as Florian continued to follow Constantine’s call around a cluster of houses.
Now Anthea saw signs of life, but still no people. There was a cow in the yard behind the first cottage, and chickens. The second had a pair of pigs in a pen well back from the house, which meant that Anthea and Florian passed rather closer to the pigs than Anthea would have liked. But she did notice something.
They’ve been fed today, she pointed out to Florian. The cow seemed happy—don’t they make a lot of noise when they aren’t milked?
I think so, Florian replied. Constantine is close!
They came around another neatly fenced pen—this one with another cow and some chickens—and she could at last see the grounds of the manor house, and the house itself. It was not reassuring. While the other cottages were neatly kept, the gardens cleared for the winter, and the walls and fences in good repair, the manor house had apparently fallen on hard times. Stone walls were tumbling down or smothered under the weight of the garden, which had run wild. Dead grass and flowers clogged the garden, and it took Anthea a moment to realize that most of the wild bushes and climbing plants were roses. Someone had collected the flowers, the hips rather, for teas or whatnot, but hadn’t bothered to cut back all the branches that entwined and even choked their way up an ancient, leafless elm tree in the middle of the dead lawn in front of Anthea.
The manor, too, had suffered. The once-rich curtains appeared faded, and though none of the windowpanes were broken, they had the empty-eyed look of a house long-abandoned. It reminded Anthea of the house next door to Uncle Daniel’s in Travertine. The family that lived there spent most of their year at their estate in Blackham, and Anthea could always tell whether they were “home” or not.
Florian picked his way along the drive carefully, but stopped halfway to the front door.
“Constantine!” Anthea said aloud. “There you are!”
The herd stallion was in the overgrown garden to the left. He had his head up
and was looking at them. For once he didn’t seem to give off waves of hostility, though Anthea was glad she didn’t have Arthur with her. Her tiny pet owl always brought out the worst in the massive horse.
Beyond Constantine she saw Marius, who came trotting over to say hello in a much more friendly fashion. Both horses had their tack removed and looked freshly groomed. A net of hay was hanging from a crooked and barren cherry tree to one side as well.
“Where is Finn?” Anthea asked Constantine. Where is the Now King? Is he safe?
Constantine had never deigned to acknowledge her before, but she supposed asking about Finn had softened his heart. Or perhaps he was also worried about his king and rider.
Within, go to him.
Constantine’s voice was like the scraping of steel on stone in her brain, and she had no sense of his emotions. Was he telling her to go away merely because he didn’t like her? Was he telling her to go and help Finn? There was only one way to find out.
She dismounted and unhooked her saddlebags, throwing them over her shoulder. She apologized to Florian for not taking off his saddle and bridle, but she wanted to be ready for a quick escape. She tied his reins in a knot behind his neck so they wouldn’t get tangled in his legs, and sent him over the wall. He jumped it neatly and nodded with respect to Constantine before exchanging a more affectionate greeting with Marius.
Trying to keep her saddlebags on one shoulder and her hand free to draw her pistol at the same time, Anthea walked up the rest of the drive. The big double doors showed the age of the manor: between the iron bands and hinges the wood was dry and the grain stood out in sharp ridges like the lines of an elderly man, only in reverse. One of the double doors was slightly ajar, and Anthea carefully pulled it out just enough that she could slide through. She almost lost her saddlebags in the process, but managed to pull them through without too much noise.
Anthea found herself inside a great hall. There were old banners hanging from the ceiling, and a curving staircase going up ahead of her. It was stone, with well-worn dips in each step and a beautifully carved banister. She hesitated in the middle of the hall. There were doors to the left and right, the stairs, and a smaller door beneath the staircase. Which way had Finn gone? She looked for clues, but could find nothing.
There was no dust. It struck her quite suddenly. There was no dust, no leaves had blown inside, and there was nothing that might show where Finn had gone. The manor was quite clean. There was even, she saw now that her eyes had adjusted to the dimness, furniture in the form of small side tables and a long bench. They, too, were free of dust.
“Forget it,” Anthea muttered, and then raised her voice. “Finn! Finn? Where are you?”
She heard heavy steps moving quickly toward her from the left. Anthea dropped her saddlebags and unholstered her pistol, her mouth going dry. The door flew open, and someone came barreling toward her.
Anthea screamed and cocked her pistol.
Finn skidded to a stop and threw his hands up in the air. “What are you doing?”
FLORIAN
Beloved Anthea had gone inside the strange house. Florian did not like this. He spoke to Marius and dared to even ask the herd stallion where the Now King was, and if they thought Beloved Anthea and the Now King would be safe.
Constantine would only say that there was much in the village that was strange.
But Marius told Florian much more. They were safe, he assured Florian. All of them. The people did not like the horses, but they had welcomed the medicine that the Now King had brought. They gave him permission to stay in the Big House of this place, and showed him something inside that made him want to stay.
Marius did not know why Florian did not remember this. Marius himself had sent the message shortly after they arrived. Florian hadn’t replied to Marius’s message, but Marius humbly suggested that perhaps he and his Beloved were simply too caught up in caring for each other.
Florian had not stopped to think of it, but now that he heard the humility and even jealousy in Marius’s voice he did, and he was sorry for Marius. Before the Now King had begun to ride the herd stallion, Marius had been his mount. They had been deeply connected, and never had a day passed when the human king-to-be and Marius did not ride out together. But now that the Soon King had become the Now King and taken up his place on Constantine’s back, Marius was with him mostly to carry fodder or other supplies.
Marius had not lost any status among the herd; he was still favored by the Now King, but he felt a loss inside. Florian was ashamed to realize he had not thought about Marius’s loss of a rider. Perhaps Beloved Anthea should say something to the Now King. Florian could speak to the Now King, but it wouldn’t be proper of him, especially since Marius had not done so himself.
Instead Florian asked Marius what he meant that he had sent a message. They had heard nothing. Florian had cried out to Marius and Constantine as well, and gotten no reply, which is why they had come.
Constantine turned to them then.
It is the stones, the herd stallion said. They guard this place. Too well.
16
UNCOMFORTABLE TRUTHS
“Where have you been?” Anthea practically screamed it at Finn.
She shoved her gun into the holster and threw herself at him. She wasn’t even embarrassed to hug him tightly and kiss his cheek. Then she pushed herself away just as he tried to hug her back.
Outside, she heard Florian bugling, and hurried to send him a calming thought.
I am all right. Finn startled me. I am all right, and so is he.
“We’ve been worried sick!” she told Finn.
“What? Why?” He dropped his arms, looking baffled. “I told you that I was looking at these books.”
“You did not!”
“Well, I mean, Marius sent a message to Florian, but he was supposed to say the same thing.”
“But he didn’t! And we tried for hours to reach you, and didn’t hear anything!”
“Hours?” Finn blinked hazily at the light coming in through the still open door. “Well, I’m sorry about that. I lost track of time, but I thought you knew we were all right. I told you we got here just fine.”
“And then, nothing,” Anthea pointed out.
“I’m really sorry, I didn’t realize!” Finn ran a hand through his blond hair, making it stand on end. “But you have to come and see this!”
He grabbed Anthea’s hand without waiting for an answer, and began to drag her toward the room he’d just come from. She reached back for her saddlebags, or to close the door, but he grinned at her and gave another tug on her arm, and she gave in.
Finn brought her into a large room lined with bookshelves. The room was two stories tall and there was a rolling ladder to reach some of the shelves, as well as a spiral staircase leading to a wrought iron catwalk at the far end of the room. Some of the bookshelves had glass doors, and inside them Anthea could see things other than books: astrolabes and barometers, a skull of some animal, stones with markings on them.
There was a fireplace, and some big leather chairs in front of it. But Finn took her to the table he had been using. It was as long as the family dining table at the Last Farm, and of the same massive, heavily carved style. In fact, the mantel and chairs also reminded her of the furnishings at the farm. Much heavier and older looking than anything she had seen in Coronam.
“Leanan,” she said softly, putting a finger on the table.
“Exactly!” Finn said in excitement. “And all these!”
Most of the table’s surface was covered in books. They were open or had ribbons and rulers and pens and even a spoon sticking out of them to mark places. There was a cup of tea resting on one, and a plate scattered with crumbs on the wooden chair that was pushed back from the table.
“What are they? What do they say?” Anthea asked.
“Everything, Thea,” Finn said, clutching her hands. “They say everything.”
He turned and began to point to random pages in the book
s, flipping them open and stacking them on top of each other until there was a pile in front of Anthea. She put her hand out to steady it and saw that the book on top was a yellowed report of some kind. She leaned in closer, holding up her free hand to stop Finn from piling on another book.
After the final recurrence left approx. 27 dead, the newly formed parliament judged the disease to be of no further danger. Those who had taken refuge on the north side of King Kalabar’s barricade applied to return to the south to reclaim lands forfeited during the height of the outbreaks, but were told there was still a high risk of infection.
Subsequent applications to return to southern estates or to be compensated for lost property were met with …
“With what?” Anthea said as Finn put another book on top before she could turn the page.
“That?” He lifted the book again and looked at what she’d been reading. “As far as I can tell, there’s just one book after another explaining how the Coronami took all the land from the Leanans.”
Anthea decided to ignore that. She knew it was true, but it made her feel uncomfortable all the same.
“What’s a parliament?” Anthea asked.
“Kronenhof has one,” Finn said.
“Oh, right. The people that help … make laws?”
“Yes, which apparently we used to have as well. So it wasn’t just the king who had power,” Finn said. He pulled a couple of books off the pile and set them aside. “See here?” He pointed to a book with very fine print, and then another that was handwritten. “And here.” He was moving too fast for Anthea to actually read what he was pointing at, but he didn’t seem to care.
“When the Coronami first came, they had a parliament that was half Leanan, half Coronami, so that both people had a say in the governing,” Finn said. “But apparently every time a Leanan got sick or died or had to take a leave of absence, they were replaced with a Coronami.”
“Who was in charge? Did they have an emperor like Kronenhof?” She frowned. “They had a king,” she said, answering herself. “A Leanan king but then—” Her frown deepened.
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