“Thank you. Now, before they lose their patience and come in.” He strode across the room and bowed her out into the shop again.
Menders and Kaymar turned, their faces expressionless. Katrin smiled as if she and Tellyn Fein had been exchanging frivolous gossip and went over to Varnia, who had turned away from the shop window and was looking over some gloves.
“I be standing in for my friend, the shopkeeper,” Tellyn Fein said smoothly. “What may I help you find?” His face was smooth and innocent, as if he had only just been born.
Bouvais, Fambré
15
A Roaring Silence
K
atrin walked arm in arm with Abbot Fahrin, the priest of Galanth who ran the feeding station in Bouvais, the first town she had encountered in Fambré, where the mob of beggars had so horrified her. The family had come full circle and were here to have easy access to the train when they decided to return to Surelia.
Or when the roaring silence said they had to leave. Katrin thought about her conversation with Tellyn Fein a great deal. She listened to the distant whisper in her mind but heard no distinct words, not as she had when the woman had come up behind her with a gun at The Shadows, determined to kill her.
She had spoken softly in her room a few times, saying, “Grandmother?” or “Clearheart?” There had been no reply – only that incessant susurrus far away.
Menders had not asked about her conversation with Tellyn Fein. This impressed Katrin. Fein must have laid down the law to Menders. That would have been a sight to see. Menders was kind and loving, he was goodness itself, but he was also in charge of the family and their safety. He must implicitly trust the Revenant – and for that matter, Katrin – to be so accepting of their secret discussion.
Kaymar was another matter and kept setting up situations where Katrin might confide in him. She finally said, “I can’t tell you and that’s that!” He stopped then, but she could tell he was about to die of curiosity.
As far as she was concerned, she hoped the roaring silence never came.
“And this is our new area for mothers and children,” Fahrin explained, ushering her through yet another doorway. “They can have a place to rest or sleep, there is water and soap for washing. The doctor comes daily and, of course, there is food.”
Katrin looked around at the women and children, remembering that desperate mob, the outstretched hands and the mothers clutching skeletal babies. The women and children here were far from plump and healthy, but they could be clean and had food to eat. She and Menders had done something to help them – and now, through the efforts of Princess Dorlane, money was pouring in from Fambrians who had resettled in Mordania and other nations.
Suddenly Katrin recognized a face. She unlinked her arm from Fahrin’s and went to a woman sitting on a low cot, holding a baby in her arms.
“How is your baby?” Katrin asked as the young woman looked up at her. She was the mother who had broken Katrin’s heart that first day as she held up her nearly dead child in desperation.
The mother spoke in Fambrian, her dark eyes lighting up in her haggard face. She held the baby girl out to Katrin, who nestled her in the crook of her arm, adjusting her little dress.
“She remembers you – she will never forget you,” Fahrin translated. “You handle this little one as if you’ve had many of your own.”
“On our estate there are many babies and I help at my mother’s school as well,” Katrin smiled. The baby, though thin and weak, had rallied beautifully and was smiling up at Katrin. She had beautiful brown eyes that looked enormous in her gaunt little face.
“Have you considered this as work for yourself?” the priest asked earnestly. “You are genuinely interested. You truly care for these people.”
“Are you asking me to be a priestess?” Katrin laughed.
“No, that is not your path – but to work with and for the poor? That is something you would love.”
Katrin rubbed the baby’s belly gently, eliciting a healthy belch.
“Possibly,” she said after a moment. “There are – circumstances.” She kissed the baby and gave her back to her mother, who smiled again and blessed Katrin in Fambrian.
Menders strolled in with Eiren. They had been talking to some of the people having meals in the adjoining room. Katrin delightedly showed them the baby.
“I was asking your daughter if she would like to work with such people,” Fahrin said. “She has a great heart and affinity for it.”
“Very much so,” Menders agreed, making Katrin start. “She is invaluable at home, when there is need among our estate tenants. I’m very proud of her empathy and caring.”
“It would be something to consider,” Eiren added, smiling at Katrin’s astonished face. “This has been an excellent opportunity to learn.”
“You see? It isn’t just the foolish priest,” Fahrin teased gently, extending his arm for Katrin to take. “Come and see the new laundry facilities we’ve been able to arrange with a gift from Princess Dorlane.”
Katrin took his arm and smiled up at him.
***
From Menders’ Journal:
Things seem less tense here in Fambré during the last few weeks, though we are still vigilant and maintaining a very low profile. We are staying outside Bouvais, having migrated back toward the north of the country after Kaymar, Ifor and the children stumbled upon that meeting in a field further south. We are a short carriage ride to the nearest train depot from here.
The plight of the beggars in Bouvais has markedly improved with the combination of the efforts of Princess Dorlane and ourselves. So far there are six feeding stations in Bouvais, manned by the priests and priestesses of Galanth and the priests of Grahl. The results are obvious. The atmosphere is far less threatening than it was.
How easy it would be to change the situation here – yet the King and Court see nothing. Of course, they never venture outside, other than to travel to another of the pleasure palaces by night, so their movements are not seen – they think. How idiotic can a ruler be?
And why do I ask such a rhetorical question? The Queen of Mordania is far from a magnificent example. She hasn’t walked outside the Palace in a decade or more. There are beggars and City Thrun dying all over Erdahn and she doesn’t even know it.
Time for a change of topic, as my temper is running away.
This morning Katrin asked me if priests of Galanth could marry. She was quite intrigued when I told her they could. Apparently, Abbot Fahrin is making quite an impression – and why not? He’s charismatic, decent, caring and handsome as the morning. Intense in a manner that captivates Katrin. It’s obvious he’s half in love with her.
And why shouldn’t he be? She’s intelligent, compassionate, involved and absolutely lovely. I could see them working together happily. He is older, but he would ground her – and she would calm and rejuvenate him. There is that connection there, that spark. I know it well and I can see it in others.
And I must take her away from what might become her first love, which could ripen into a strong marriage. Because of who she is – I can’t write about it today.
Kaymar just came in. He says all is quiet on the streets and from informants. So no rush to leave just yet.
***
Katrin was telling everyone at the dinner table about assisting Doctor Franz at the Galanth feeding station that day when she suddenly felt dizzy. She closed her eyes.
When she opened them, the room was silent. Everyone was looking at her worriedly and she could see Menders and Eiren speaking, but she heard no words. It was as if someone had put a huge glass box down over her, forming a vacuum.
Then it came.
The whispering on the edge of her consciousness grew, towered and then crashed over her in a terrifying roar of voices. There were millions of them, shouting, screaming, warning! Far more than dead Queens of Mordania – these were a multitude, all who had died in the Revolt and Terror, all who had died in the endless wars that swept ac
ross Eirdon. It was so intense it would crush her skull!
She stood abruptly, staring at nothing. Hemmett was up, his hands on her shoulders. She could see his lips moving, but heard only the crushing battery of that multitude of voices.
“Go now! Go now! They are coming to kill!”
Katrin recognized that voice! It had warned her of the woman with the gun standing behind her at The Shadows last year. It was harsh and rough, an elderly woman’s voice, cutting through the shrieking multitude. Katrin was sure it was her grandmother, Morghenna the Terrible.
“Yes,” she gasped. Suddenly she could speak and move again.
“We have to go! Now!” she shouted in a voice that rivaled The Terrible’s in her prime. “Don’t question me! Do as I say!”
She ran for her room, followed closely by Menders, who must think she’d gone mad. She tore her cases out of the closet. They were mostly packed. Menders had ordered everyone to keep their belongings packed in case they needed to leave quickly.
The voices swirled around her head like a whirlpool.
“Katrin, just let me know what is happening,” Menders protested.
“We have to go. We must go now! The poor people are rising up and they are coming! I know where we need to go – they’re telling me where we need to go. We need horses and two carriages to move fast and we must go to the sea! Not to the train, that would be a target. East, to the sea!”
To the sea! Run to the sea!
A man’s voice, thick with terror and love rang out above the screams in Katrin’s mind. Princess Dorlane’s father’s last words to his daughters.
She flung her cases open and began hurling her things into them.
“Katrin, I’ll listen to you,” Menders began. “Just…”
“There is no time!” she cried in frustration.
She turned to him. The voices were everything now. She could hear the women’s voices, the Queens.
“Command him, child! You must! He is your guardian, he is your father by love, but you are a Princess of Mordania and your orders are above his! Now! THERE IS NO TIME!”
“I am Princess Katrin Morghenna of Mordania!” she shouted at Menders. “I order you to do as I say! We will go now to a port on the eastern shore and return to Surelia!”
He looked as if she’d hit him with a board.
“This is to save our lives! Do as I say, Lord Stettan!”
Menders blinked and ran out of her room. She could hear him shouting commands, then Hemmett taking up the chain. They were running to their rooms. Someone left and went toward the inn stables for horses and carriages. Good!
Katrin slammed and locked her cases, carrying them into the hall. To save time, she opened a window and heaved them down into the street. She turned to find Varnia right behind her.
The older girl did the same, dropping her cases to the pavement. She leaned out the window.
“Smoke,” she said tersely. She turned to Katrin and checked to see if the knife that Princess Dorlane had given her was in place around her waist. Their eyes met and they clasped hands. No words were necessary.
“All out into the hallway, ready to go downstairs!” Katrin shouted suddenly as the family emerged from their rooms. Doctor Franz took over dropping the cases from the window as Katrin hustled the others into the hallway.
“Darling, what is happening?” Eiren asked, looking closely at Katrin.
“Something I was warned of – the poor people are coming to kill. It’s another Revolt. We have to go now!” Katrin answered.
She heard hooves ringing against paving stones.
“They’re here!” Hemmett said from his vantage point near the hallway window.
“Downstairs!” Katrin commanded. They clattered down, out into the street and were portioned into the two carriages by Menders. Horses were provided for Hemmett, Menders and Doctor Franz to save weight in the carriages, so they could move fast. Ifor and Kaymar, the best drivers, sat on the carriage boxes.
Suddenly Fahrin was there, having run over from the feeding station. He found Katrin’s window and reached up, taking her hand.
“There have been huge uprisings northward as well as to the south,” he gasped. “Don’t go to the train.”
“We’re not. We’re going east to the sea,” she answered firmly.
“Go fast down the Louvis Road and do not stop for any reason. They’ve already been there, so you’ll be safe. They’re on their way to the Capital.”
“What about you?” Katrin asked, suddenly no longer impelled by The Terrible.
“I feed the poor. I will be safe,” he answered. “Go now! Go, my dear!”
“Go along the Louvis Road!” Katrin shouted to Ifor. As the carriage moved forward, Eiren looked back through the rear window.
“Oh my gods,” she gasped. Everyone turned.
Torches, thousands of them, were moving toward the town of Bouvais through the fragrant fields of luxen and along the roads, an endless shifting constellation of individual flames. In the places they had been, fires roared into the sky.
Fahrin ran alongside them until they reached the feeding station. Amazingly, it was lighted and priests were dishing out food to the endless stream of poor people who came at all hours. Of course, Katrin thought, that will identify them as helping the poor. It will keep them safe.
“Be careful,” she called to him.
“I shall,” he answered. “Write to me.”
Then he rapidly blew her a kiss, smiled and went inside.
***
Katrin stood at the railing of a small fishing trawler. It was past midnight, after their desperate race to the eastern shore through what the peasants of Fambré had left behind in their deadly path.
Dismembered and burned corpses lay thick on the sides of the Louvis Road; buildings and crops were ablaze. Their journey had been silent except for the clattering of horses’ hooves and the rattling of the carriages.
The family was safe. Menders had exchanged a huge sum of money for them to be taken to the nearest Surelian port near a train station. Everyone had gone below immediately, exhausted and emotionally shattered by what they had seen.
Eiren had kissed her silently and to Katrin’s surprise, Varnia did the same. Doctor Franz cupped her face in his hand and smiled. Kaymar touched her shoulder and Ifor kissed her hand. Hemmett hadn’t needed to do anything more than smile at her, his eyes full of tears. Borsen had been the only one who spoke.
“Good night, my mighty sister,” he whispered in Thrun.
She remained on deck alone, letting sea spray and mist clean her skin. Her clothing reeked from the stench of the fires they had passed. She knew either Kaymar or Ifor was watching her, but they left her to herself. She was utterly exhausted and the voices of the Queens were gone.
Then she knew, without hearing him approach, that Menders was there.
“My little princess,” he said softly, putting his hands on her shoulders.
Katrin realized she had been fearful, deep down, that he would be hurt or angry because of her commands. Now she heard the pride in his voice.
She turned into his embrace, resting her head against his shoulder. She was too weary for words.
Menders held her close, watching the three brightest stars in the constellation called The Weaver.
The Shadows, Mordania
17
Trouble follows like a dog
G
laddas Dalmanthea, Erlen Haakel, Corporal Villison and Cook were seated around the partners’ desk Menders had moved into his office at The Shadows when he first took residence. Originally, he had chosen the desk so Katrin could sit opposite him with crayons and paper, then later with schoolwork or sketchbooks. Now it allowed Gladdas to sit opposite Haakel and work with him on the management of the estate and Menders’ Men – when she wasn’t teasing his life out, to his great amusement.
Gladdas had hidden on the Middle Continent for over a month, shifting her location repeatedly. She was certain Alazaria Fentez
had followed her flawlessly and was only kept from carrying out her mission to eliminate her former mentor by Gladdas’ effective use of the many safe houses she owned. She got away from her last bolt-hole disguised as a carriage driver.
That caper had shaken Alazaria off her trail for several weeks, giving her the opportunity to meet with Menders and Eiren and then return, by a circuitous route via Surytam, to The Shadows.
Three weeks had been free of any sign of Alazaria, but then an informant reported a young woman recently hired as a nursemaid at an estate near Erdstrom making inquiries about the mistress at The Shadows.
“Could just be a nosy young miss,” Cook suggested. Gladdas had included her from the first – Menders had let her know that Cook’s domestic connections in the area were invaluable for backstairs information.
“It could,” Haakel agreed. “But I still want it investigated.”
“It has to be entirely without her knowing – which I don’t believe can happen.” Gladdas leaned back in her chair tiredly. “Not considering the operative Alazaria has become.”
Gladdas’ journey had been exhausting and even with days of rest, she was tired. Subterfuge was wearing on the mind and body.
“Has to be difficult with one of your own doing this,” Cook said sympathetically. Her quiet sagacity struck a nerve.
“Yes, it is,” Gladdas answered, all roleplay gone. “And no-one knows better than I how intelligent – and how lacking a soul – Alazaria is.”
“I haven’t felt anything outside. Not as yet.”
The voice was old, yet powerful, deep enough to rival that of Ifor Trantz. The four seated at the desk turned toward an oversized armchair in a shaded corner.
Lucen Greinholz, sent to The Shadows with the original household as Katrin’s Guard, was reclining comfortably where he could see through the office window, which looked out at The Shadows’ orchard. He was a huge man, standing seven feet tall.
Love and Sacrifice: Book Two of the Prophecy Series Page 16