"Thou hast a good heart, son of another land," an unfamiliar feminine voice said.
Recognizing the feel of a deity, Cianan dropped to his knees. "Lady?"
"I am Nerthus. The deaths of My daughters troubles thee."
Anger flared anew, but he could not sustain it. "The deaths of innocents always do, Lady."
"They are at rest, free of this world. We do not celebrate that which is necessary. My Sister's daughters shall see Mine home. Help lead My people into the ways of peace."
Nerthus vanished. Tranquility remained. The sorrow bearable, Cianan rose, gathered the robes and carried them back to the sanatorium.
Wolf's eyes widened at what Cianan carried, and he dropped to one knee. "Nerthus be praised."
Tzigana appeared in the doorway. Her face haggard, her eyes shone with unshed tears. "I'll take those. We need fires, one for each of these sisters. Please see to it."
Cianan handed Nerthus' gift to the Shamaru queen and watched her disappear back through the doorway. "Already speaking like a true queen."
"This land couldn't hope for better."
They spent the rest of the day gathering stone and wood for two dozen funerary pyres. By ones, twos, handfuls, people from the surrounding countryside appeared, bringing food and pitching in to help. Pieces of the ruined buildings made up most of the wood, but Cianan knew the wood had been blessed and was perfect to carry Nerthus' daughters home.
Mother Kitta approached as Cianan stacked wood on the last pyre. She surveyed his work. "Not bad," she conceded. She looked at him. "Not your way, is it, champion?"
He shook his head. "Nay. We do not burn our dead. We have underground crypts, and bury our dead with all their possessions for the afterlife."
"Those of Nerthus take nothing with them from this world," Mother Kitta commented. "Nerthus will provide all on the other side."
"Nothing at all?" Used to the opulence of the rare elven funeral, Cianan found such simplicity disturbing. These selfless women deserved so much more. But he reconsidered. These women gave all they had to others. Fitting, after all.
Mother Kitta must have seen him reach his own conclusion, because she gave no further answer.
Tzigana exited with Maleta. Cianan saw the Shamari farmers stiffen, heard them mutter amongst themselves as they eyed the Shamaru queen with suspicion and veiled hostility.
Mother Kitta noticed as well, and frowned. "Those unable to send these blessed women off with hearts free of darkness should quit this place. Anger has no place here on this night."
"Tonight belongs to Nerthus," Maleta added, in her own voice. "These're still Her sacred grounds. Tomorrow belongs to Hedda, but tonight belongs to Nerthus. For all they've done for you over the years, honor Nerthus' daughters now. Stay in peace. 'Tis their homecoming."
Hedda's servants brought out the bodies of Nerthus' slain. They laid each green-robed nun on a pyre, in a circle. Maleta and Tzigana brought out Mother Tam last. One of Hedda's servants guarded each nun. They stood at attention with a burning torch and drawn sword. Mother Kitta stood by Sister Maire, leaving Maleta to attend Mother Tam herself.
Cianan did not know the protocol for the homecoming. In the silence, while the villagers encircled the pyres, he drew his own sword and took a knee at Mother Tam's feet. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against his hands, wrapped around the pommel of the sword. Kikeona's presence, from the far side of the circle, steadied him.
"Lady of Light," he prayed, "bless my endeavors here. May I help guide these people out of the darkness. Let these blessed women be an example to all of what life should be."
He thought of Mother Tam, standing in the snow with her lantern. He could still hear her voice, her words of comfort in his heart. "Sleep, little mother," he murmured. "Be at peace." Peace they had not found in this world. His resolve hardened. "May these deaths at Sunniva's hands come to an end."
The mournful cry of wailing pipes pierced the silence. Mother Kitta spoke. "Never afore have we held such a gathering. The homecoming rites of Nerthus are as simple as they are divine, but always afore they have been by the hands of Nerthus' Own daughters. Never have they been at the hands of those of a sister faith." She paused. "Nerthus is our Goddess of hearth and home, blesser of family, of children, of the sowing and the harvest. She's the nurturer of all Shamar's life. Without Her blessing, there is no future."
The music swept over them, heart-rending in its simple lament. "Blessed are all those who gather for this homecoming," Mother Kitta continued. "The daughters of Nerthus have brought Shamar peace and prosperity. They blessed your unions, delivered your children and healed your sick. They took in the orphaned, the displaced, never turning away a living soul. They treated all with equal compassion and dignity without asking anything for themselves."
"Let peace rule here this night," Maleta, not Hedda, called out. "As I call out each name, search your heart. Share your memories with all who are gathered here to celebrate our sister's lives. Send them home with your gratitude and goodwill."
And so it began. Simple farm-folk, merchant or mercenary, Shamari and Shamaru, each shared a tale of each of the slain nuns. Powerful in its lack of eloquence, the tales emerged of women who traded that which was easy for that which was right. Decent, hardworking and moral women who lived as mother and sister to all.
Maleta's voice quivered as she spoke of Sister Maire. "She was a nurse with extraordinary strength and compassion. She protected children against nightmares, armed with celia-moonflower-petal oil and a song."
Cianan could imagine the nightmares of a girl who had lost her family and her home. He remained silent throughout the tributes. When Maleta got to Mother Tam, he rose to his feet.
"I am a stranger here, yet Mother Tam took me in. She asked not of my land or my religion. She offered me food and a place to rest, a harbor of peace and tranquility, of warmth and acceptance. When I stood in doubt, she showed me a clear path." He hesitated. "I shall remember her kindness always."
"Nerthus is the heart of Shamar. Her daughters were Her hands," Maleta said. "Mother Tam oversaw all with honesty and honor. She didn't shy away from the truth because it was unpleasant, nor shirk the work when it was hard." She stood silent for several long moments. "Mother Tam was the noblest, most heroic person I have ever known."
Cianan's heart ached for Maleta. How much worse to mourn and be unable to vent it? To choke on every emotion? He tried to catch her eye in the torchlight, but she looked out at the gathering. He had the distinct impression she looked everywhere but at him.
"And so we send Nerthus' daughters home," Mother Kitta said. "These women have strong ties to this land and their people. In order to help them make it all the way home, let none utter their names aloud until the rising of the next full moon. We do not want to call them away from their well-deserved rest."
With that, the servants of Hedda lit each pyre. The pipes resumed wailing, leaving each to his or her own thoughts. When the lament ended, Mother Kitta dismissed the people. The glow of the flames would light their ways home. She gathered her women to her.
Tzigana and Wolf strode up.
"There's room with us," Mother Kitta said. "You shouldn't stay within these walls."
Wolf shook his head. "We'll make camp in the trees at the edge of the bluff. In the morning, I'll ride for my men. Tonight for Nerthus, but tomorrow for Hedda. We ride against Sunniva. We ride for Shamar's future." He stared straight at Tzigana, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind where he thought Shamar's future lay.
Mother Kitta turned to Maleta. "You should come with us."
To Cianan's utter shock, Maleta shook her head. "Hedda saw fit to bring all of us together on this venture. We started this together. We'll finish it together. I'm staying with my companions. Meet us back here in three days."
"Why here?" Tzigana asked.
"Here's where they drew their line," Maleta replied, traces of Hedda's ice creeping into her tone. "Here's where it starts. Here's where it ends."
>
Cianan disagreed. It would end at Sunniva's palace, where the queen of butchers would barricade herself in, where she held Jovan captive. But first they must ensure freedom for Tzigana's people. "I go to Soto, to Cary and the guild. I shall bring them back here."
Mother Kitta nodded. "Until later." She led her servants away.
"Let's go make camp," Tzigana suggested. She led the way back to the horses, where Wolf made a campfire. Maleta and Tzigana rolled out the bedding around the campfire while Cianan checked the horses.
"You are quiet tonight," he observed as he brushed Kikeona's mane.
"Your mind is cluttered enough for the both of us."
"I did not think she would stay with us," Cianan admitted.
"She is right. We are in this together." Kikeona paused. Cianan got the impression she weighed her next words. "You two have a connection. She may yet be yours." The mare did not sound altogether happy with that admission.
"This thought troubles you why?"
"Above all I wish for your happiness. She is not what I would have chosen for you. She is such a dark, troubled creature, and she is mortal."
Cianan smiled. "She is strong and valiant and beautiful. She truly is verteny a. I envied Loren, you know; Dara is extraordinary. I never thought to meet her equal, and yet I have."
"Well, you shall never be bored." Kikeona tossed her head. "I can keep watch tonight. You four need your sleep."
Cianan found Tzigana already in her bed. Maleta and Wolf argued about who would take first watch. "Enough," Cianan ordered. "My mare has been trained to stand guard, and I doubt either of you are sound sleepers. If trouble comes, she shall wake us."
Wolf nodded and crawled into his bed, his head near Tzigana's.
Maleta's eyes narrowed. "You expect me to sleep?"
"I expect you to be practical." Cianan sat down on his bedding and pulled off his boots. "We have had a hard day, and tomorrow shall be no better. Rest while you can."
A vulnerable expression flashed across her face, too quick to follow, almost... fear. "I do not sleep with men."
"Are those not words to warm a man's heart," Kikeona commented.
Cianan bit off the automatic response, and counted to three. Then ten. "You and Tzigana are on that side of the campfire, Wolf and I are on this side. Kikeona shall keep watch, and you and I shall sleep. I do not care if you sleep with a knife under your pillow, so long as you sleep."
He crawled under his blankets and pulled out his flute.
Maleta sat staring at the flames, her chin on her knees.
Softly he began to play, lullabies from home. He could read the tension in every line of her body as she fought to stay alert. "Lady of Light, time for her to rest, to heal," he prayed. A thread of Light wound its way into his song. He watched it curl around Maleta, watched her muscles relax.
She blinked. "I'm afraid to go to sleep," she confessed. "I've so many nightmares."
"Not tonight," he promised. "Lady of Light, for tonight, I take her nightmares as my own. It is in my power to request, and Yours to grant. Let her sleep untroubled this night."
Warmth filled him. He kept playing. Maleta crawled into her blankets with a public show of setting her knives within reach. He took care not to look at her, but out at the tree line where the horses were tethered.
When Maleta's breathing deepened, he looked over at her. Unmarred by worry, her face looked so young. Even Hedda-touched, he found her beautiful. He knew what awaited him when he fell asleep. Armies of skeletons and marigolds of bronze, asides whatever nightmares would have plagued her.
It mattered not. "My life for yours, if need be," he vowed. "I shall not let you die."
Chapter Thirteen
Maleta opened her eyes to the sight of Cianan putting more wood on the fire. She shivered, chilled despite his efforts. Hedda lurked, quiet for now. Maleta gulped, uncertain which troubled her more. That she'd fallen asleep, or that she'd not had a single nightmare. After everything that had happened, how could she sleep as if nothing were wrong?
"Good morning," Cianan said, not looking up from where he squatted aside the fire.
She stared bleary-eyed up at the sky to see if she could mark the time, but clouds obscured the stars. "What time is it?"
"Almost dawn."
The flames danced in wood that sizzled with moisture. Maleta rubbed her eyes and gazed across the campfire. Tzigana's and Wolf's bedrolls were gone. Farther beyond, the sorrel mare and the black-bay stallion were also gone. "Where is everyone?"
"Tzigana went back to her camp, Wolf, to round up his men."
She gasped. "Wolf's got a traitor in his group. I should've said something – "
"Relax. He knows." Cianan's gaze met hers. He looked like he hadn't slept well. Shadows lurked in his eyes. "He knows how you found him. His scribe shall be dealt with."
He looked like he'd had nightmares aplenty. A glimmer of suspicion arose. Did he have anything to do with her peaceful rest? What were the paladin's powers? She recalled relaxing to the sound of flute music, then nothing until she woke up. The thought he could put her to sleep against her will scared her. Maleta shivered in the cold air, aware it was just the two of them. What else could he do?
He gave her a piercing glance and moved away to the other side of the fire to rummage in a sack for a couple of tankards. "I made some tea, and there is hot water for washing. Food is ready."
She washed her face and hands, then accepted the tea. First meal turned out to be stewed dried fruit over toasted bread, with hard yellow cheese. She felt revived when she finished and washed the few dishes while he saw to the horses.
Unsure of what to say, she packed away the utensils and rolled up her bedding in silence. He loaded his own bedding onto Kikeona and turned to Maleta. "I travel to Soto, to the Broken Blade. You are welcome to travel with me, unless you have other business to attend to."
Do we? Maleta asked Hedda. The goddess had no reply. Maleta sighed. She knew Hedda wouldn't comment or act on that which was predetermined, but trying to fathom Hedda's wishes made her head ache. She stared at Cianan. Did she trust him enough to stay with him? Did she trust him enough to run around on his own, unchecked and unsupervised?
Why didn't Hedda say something?
"I need to spread the word to the people to meet back here with weapons drawn in three days," she informed him.
"You can do that on the way," he said, mounting up. "There is safety in numbers. I would not have you travel alone. Warn every house we come upon. Let them spread the word amongst themselves."
She should've felt safe in his presence. He'd shown himself to be all that was honorable and good in the world. Yet last night troubled her. His nearness disturbed her. She'd seen an odd expression on his face when he thought she wasn't looking. A look that made the back of her neck prickle. Not with fear, not exactly.
"Fine. We don't have much time." She swung up into the saddle and kicked the piebald into an easy trot.
Cianan pulled up even with her. He said nothing as they approached the first farmstead.
Maleta reined to a halt, and felt Hedda awaken. She fought the wall of ice to no avail. She could tell Cianan felt the change also. Resignation replaced the sorrow in his eyes.
"Citizens of Shamar, followers of Nerthus and Hedda," she called.
The farm folk gathered on the porch, a farmer and his wife, their two grown sons and their wives. "What'dya want with us?" the old man demanded.
"Thy allegiance to this land," Hedda replied in that cold, hollow voice. "The one who destroyed the abbey shall be no more. Gather at the abbey in three days' time, with all thy kith and kin, with every weapon thou canst find. Thy Goddess commands. Obey, or face My wrath."
The old man paled and bowed his head. Maleta felt Hedda recede and she kicked her mount into a canter. She turned her head as Cianan rode up alongside. He wore a disgusted look on his face.
"What?" she asked, in her own voice.
"Very diplomatic."
> As if she had a choice in what Hedda said. Didn't he understand anything? Choking on an undiplomatic retort of her own, she kicked the mare into a gallop, riding away from him, grateful when he let her go. Common sense raised its head soon enough, and she eased back on the reins afore she tired her mount.
Cianan stayed a few lengths back. The next few farmsteads were a repeat of the first, with Hedda coming and going at will. At least Cianan kept his opinions, and his looks, to himself. Maleta's head ached by mid-morning. How she resented being used. As if Hedda didn't trust her to do the right thing.
They stopped atop a rise for lunch, dried meat with more bread, cheese and water. Cianan looked down into the brush-dotted gulch below and frowned.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Mayhaps nothing." His tone sounded uneasy. "That is the perfect spot for an ambush."
She studied it, as well. "It's the only way out of here."
"Exactly."
"So we'll be careful." Maleta finished eating and tightened the piebald's girth again. She mounted up and drew her sword. She turned to see Cianan stringing his bow. He swung up on Kikeona's back.
They picked their way through the rocks down into the ravine. Maleta kept her eyes and ears straining for any hint of company. For long silent minutes they rode, surrounded by concealing spruce and firs. Her neck prickled a warning, but she couldn't see or hear anything.
"There should be birds," she whispered.
He nodded.
A woman's scream pierced the silence up ahead. Men shouted. Maleta kicked the piebald into a full gallop, Cianan a stride behind her. In a small clearing stood a merchant's wagon. Maleta reined the pied in at the edge of an encampment swarming with bandits.
Maleta drew Hedda's Sword and threw herself at the nearest bandit. His hands full of jewelry, he was unable to draw a weapon in time. A burning rage filled Maleta at the sight of the merchant and his wife lying still on the ground. She swung at the bandit's neck, severing his head.
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