Chasa sat down beside her. “Hello.”
She took her attention away from the glass only momentarily. Just long enough to rake a contemptuous look over him. “Oh, it’s you.”
“So it is.”
“I want to be alone.”
She took another long drink. Chasa remained where he was. After a while she spoke again.
“This is very good.”
“Is it?”
She favored him with another cold look. “I just said so. Gods, but you’re stupid. Stupid and dull. Not ugly. I’ll give you that. Very pretty. Too pretty. Too young and muscled. Muscles and no brains.”
Chasa winced at her words, but spoke patiently. “You’re drunk, you know.”
“How would I know?” She banged a small fist on the table. One of the empty glasses turned over and rolled toward Chasa. “I’ve never been drunk before. I’m just… learning new things. Sene wants me to learn new things. So I’m learning about wine. It makes me numb, so I think I’m going to try it a lot. Do you ever learn new things?”
“I try. About wine, for instance. In the morning you won’t feel so numb. I learned that several years ago.”
“You learned something? It stayed in your pretty yellow head?”
Chasa set the empty glass upright. “Yes.”
She banged her fist again. “That’s not fair!” She began to snivel. “Nothing’s ever fair!”
“What isn’t fair?”
“You know things,” she told him. “You remember things. And you’re only a Shaper. Why do you have memories when I don’t?”
Because Jenil’s an idiot, he said to himself. “I don’t know.”
Feather’s lips drew back in an angry snarl, and she threw a glass at him. “Of course you don’t know! I don’t want to be here! I don’t want to be with you! I don’t want to hear your voice! It scares me to hear your voice.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks. More glasses were overturned, wine splashing everywhere as Feather lay her head on her folded arms and began to sob.
Chasa hurried around the table to her, then hesitated to touch her. “Why does it scare you, Feather? How can I help?”
“Go away.” She lifted her head. Her face was stained with tears and wine and she looked thoroughly miserable. “I don’t want to be here. I want to go back to Garden Vale.”
“You can’t.”
She found another glass to throw at him. “Why not?”
“Because it wouldn’t help. You know about us now, and about your family. You can’t hide from things you know.”
“But I don’t remember!”
He hesitantly touched her shoulder. She shook him off. Chasa took a step back, hands behind his back. He waited for her to throw something else. When she just sat there, looking down as wine dripped from the table onto her skirt, he said, “Feather?”
“What?” she shouted. She got unsteadily to her feet, then slipped in the puddle that had formed beneath the chair. He didn’t try to catch her, just let her grab the table instead.
“Why do I frighten you?”
“I’m going to be sick.”
“It’s probably for the best,” Chasa assured her. “You shouldn’t mix so many different types of drinks. Why do I frighten you?”
She gulped. Her pale complexion began to look decidedly green. “Because sometimes I almost remember you—but only almost. Like hearing things on the other side of a wall that’s too high to climb.”
She gulped again, and cupped her hand over her mouth. Behind it she said, “Go away.”
Chasa moved toward the door to call for Dektrieb and Feather’s maid. As he reached it, he heard her gag and begin to vomit. He wanted to turn back and help her himself, but his bad-tempered, drunken betrothed wouldn’t appreciate it. Wouldn’t want to hear his voice.
By the Firstmother, Jenil, he swore under his breath, this is all your fault! You had no business taking her away. So far away from herself that maybe no one could bring her back again. She had no memory, and there was nothing Chasa could do about it. Nothing he could do but go away.
Dreamers were no use at shaping things. Look what Jenil had done to Feather.
“For her own good,” he grumbled as he marched into his own room and slammed the door behind him. In the soft glow of the bedside lantern he saw that the linens were turned back, the pillows fluffed. It had been a long day, but sleep didn’t tempt him. He needed activity. There had to be something he could do, some help he could offer someone. The Dreamers weren’t enemies to the rest of the Children of the Rock. They just had no talent for making decisions. They forgot that the people they “helped” should have a say in their own fate.
His thoughts shifted from Feather to the afternoon’s conversation with Jeyn and Ivey. Abstainers who were really phantom cats or dragons in disguise? A terrifying thought, if it were true. Which it couldn’t be. Still, there was something odd going on. Abstainers tended to stay away from settled areas. They preferred to hunt and glean in the wilderness, surviving with as little regulation or pattern in their lives as was physically possible. In winter, they sometimes had no choice. If they didn’t raid the occasional isolated farm they starved. But it was summer. Recent attacks couldn’t have been motivated by need.
By what, then?
Chasa went to the chest at the foot of the bed and took out the sword he’d put away only last night. Aage was a great one for presenting ideas, not so great at proposing a course of action. Ivey collected information, but choice tidbits of village gossip and snatches of conversation overheard in a bar weren’t much use unless you knew what was behind them. Dad could speculate for the next three ninedays and be no closer to coming up with a solution than they were now. There was only one way to find out what was driving the Abstainers into Sitrine.
Someone would have to ask them.
* * *
“Iris?”
She hadn’t responded when Matti had tugged on the light blanket she had wrapped around her, or when she’d yanked on a strand of hair sticking out from under the covers. At the sound of the name, however, Vray moved, rolling over before Matti could go on to the next phase of what was becoming a ritual. Vray hated to be tickled. The children had been excited to have their father and brother home. They’d concentrated their attention on Jordy and Tob up until bedtime. Now they were alone in the loft and had no intention of falling immediately to sleep.
“Hmmm?” she asked, even though she knew full well what was coming.
Pepper answered, “We’d like a story.”
“It’s storming,” Matti explained. The loud rumble of thunder that rolled across the house briefly distracted Vray’s attention from the wind. “We can’t sleep.”
Vray didn’t like storms, either. She’d been trying her best to get to sleep so she could avoid listening to wind and rainfall and thunder. With a sigh, she sat up and moved over to let the girls clamber into the bed. She draped an arm over their shoulders, pulling them closer.
“A story?”
“Yes, please,” Pepper said.
“Do you know any about horses?” Matti asked.
“Horses? Yes. A few. Your mother’s from the horse people, isn’t she? I saw some riders once, near where I used to live. Near the southern border.” That was why guards were sent to stay at Soza, she added silently. Sent to “protect” Soza and the border villages.
“I think so.” Matti’s answer distracted her from her memories.
It’s the storm. She shouldn’t let it remind her. This was nothing compared to storm season in the south.
“The horse people didn’t used to be our enemies.” She wondered if the girls were old enough to have any interest in part of their history. “The horse people are divided into tribes, not kingdoms. They move from place to place in search of the best pasturage for their horses.”
Matti said, “I want to hear about horses, not horse people.”
“Horses. Hmm. Have you ever heard of Captain Dael of the King’s Guard?”
<
br /> “No,” they echoed each other.
“No? Well, he’s very famous in Edian.”
“We’ve never been to Edian,” Matti told her.
“Daddy has. And Tob. All the time in the summer,” Pepper added.
“With Stockings.”
Vray smiled. “Stockings is a very nice horse.”
“Daddy says she’s stupid.”
“Well, she’s a pretty horse. Not as pretty as one of the queen’s, but pretty for a cart horse. Would you like to hear a story about a very silly princess and a horse?”
“In Edian?”
“That’s where this princess lived. Once a year, they hold a horse fair. It’s very exciting. When the princess was eight, her mother the queen brought her best horses in for the fair and put them in the royal stable. The princess was just learning how to ride. She was a little bit afraid of horses, but since her mother loved horses so much she thought she had better learn to ride if she didn’t want the queen to think she was totally useless.
“Among the queen’s new horses was a stallion. It was black as night, with a neck arched like a crescent moon and a mane that fell to the ground. This was the most beautiful horse the princess had ever seen. She wanted that horse more than anything she had ever wanted in her whole life. Day after day she watched the grooms working him, she watched him in the pasture, she watched him with a mare, she went to his stall and fed him oats. She avoided her lessons so she could be near that one horse. She’d been given a pony, but he meant nothing to her. She begged the queen for the stallion. She was told not to be ridiculous. She begged the king, and was told she was too young. She asked the prince to talk to their parents and was told it wasn’t any of his business. She asked her uncles and her aunt. She offered to buy the stallion from her household money. Except that eight-year-old princesses don’t have very much household money. She knew that some day she would be given an estate of her own outside Edian, so she offered to sell that. Nobody paid her any attention. So she decided to steal the horse.”
The girls made shocked noises, and a fresh clap of thunder punctuated the enormity of the crime. Vray blushed hotly with the memory, thankful for the concealing darkness.
“She didn’t think of it as stealing. I don’t think she’d ever been taught any better. She was only eight, there was something she wanted, and she decided to take it. So, just before the fair, when all the royal horses were gathered in the courtyard of the castle and the grooms were getting ready to herd them down to the stalls in the market square, the princess snuck up to her stallion. When his groom turned away, just for a moment, she managed to get on the horse’s back. She grabbed hold of his silky mane and hung on for dear life, shrieking in the poor thing’s ears.
“I think the stallion was about as stupid as Stockings. At least, he hadn’t been trained for the possibility of having an excited, frightened child land on his back. He was skittish enough to begin with. The girl panicked him, and he bolted. And that panicked all the other horses. The courtyard was chaos, with horses stampeding and grooms and guards shouting, trying to prevent a disaster. The stallion, in the middle of it all, tried to throw the princess off. The princess, meantime, just screamed louder and louder. The only thing she could see were all these heavy bodies and flashing hooves. She knew that when she fell off she was going to be trampled—and it was certain she was going to fall off. There was no way she could hold on for very long.
“In all this noise, with all the people and horses rushing around, there was only one calm person. Only one person saw that there was a little girl in danger. He was a young guard named Dael. While everybody else was trying to get the horses under control without getting trampled themselves, Dael pushed his way through the frightened animals. He didn’t think about getting hurt. He made his way to the stallion and grabbed the princess just as she started to fall under the horses’ feet. He saved her life.”
“I hope he was very angry with her,” Matti said.
Vray laughed. “He was. But he didn’t say anything just then. She held onto him as hard as she had the horse and he carried her from the courtyard to the guard room. There weren’t any guards there. They were all outside with the horses. He had to pry her fingers out of his tunic before he could set her down. First he made sure she hadn’t been hurt. Then he asked her what she’d done, and why she’d done it. He listened very solemnly. At the time she thought he was very ancient and wise. She didn’t know he was just nineteen. But when you’re eight, nineteen is very old.
“After she finished, he explained that she had no right to take something that wasn’t hers. He explained that someone might have gotten hurt or killed and that a person had to be very careful to never do anything to hurt anyone else. She realized that he might have gotten hurt, and that frightened her more than knowing she might have gotten hurt. She promised him she’d be good. Then she had to go and face her mother, who was very, very angry.”
“Was she good for ever and ever after?” Pepper asked.
“She tried, most of the time. And even if she didn’t get her beautiful horse, at least she’d made a friend.” Vray sighed. “That’s not a very good horse story, is it?”
“It was all right,” Matti judged. “I wish it wouldn’t rain so loud.”
“Me too,” Pepper said.
“Me too,” Vray agreed. “Would you like to sleep with me?”
They crawled under the cover without asking for any more stories. Vray was glad of their company, though there wasn’t enough room for three bodies in the bed, even though two of them were small. She settled down between them, as appreciative of the warmth and contact as her eight-year-old self would have been, and tried not to think about the wind and thunder as she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 27
Vray was up off her pallet in the Brownmother house storeroom with the first flash of lightning. As the storm gathered force, rolling up from the plains and battering at the mountain, she paced, arms clasped tightly at her waist, back and forth across the width of the room, driven by the howling of the wind. That the old stone building was perched on the edge of a clifftop did not help her sense of vulnerability to the elements. She’d always been afraid of the wind, terrified at the thought of wind demons.
Another boom of thunder made Vray jump, but she was immediately distracted by the creak of the door. Although the sound of the storm had covered the sound of the lock being turned, nothing could disguise the jarring noise made by those rusty hinges. Vray turned toward the door. Brownmother Muraje’s scowling visage was lit by a lighting flash and the candle in her right hand. “Vrain’s hungry. Get to the kitchen.” She boxed Vray on the ear for emphasis. “Don’t keep the guard leader waiting, or he’ll take it out of your hide himself.”
Cousin Vrain was always hungry. Vray piled potatoes into a bowl, searching through the bag in the dark storeroom by touch. She found a certain pleasure in the dusty feel and pebbly surfaces as she pulled the vegetables out of the burlap storage bag. When she’d counted out two dozen, she picked up her bowl and headed for the kitchen where Theka, one of the other kitchen girls, had built up the fire and set water to boil.
She’d left Theka slicing a loaf of bread. As she reached the kitchen door, she heard a high-pitched squeak from Theka, answered by a laugh and words, masculine and slurred. Guards. Come to see their commander’s orders were being carried out? She peered toward the work table, then at the hearth, but didn’t see the girl. She did hear her crying. Then she caught sight of her, a little thing pressed against the wall beneath the kitchen’s one window. A pair of men flanked her, making the twelve-year-old orphan seem even smaller. Both of them had their hands on the girl. One of them forced a kiss on her.
Vray drew back, safely unnoticed in the shadows. Theka had said she was afraid of the guards. Perhaps this sort of thing had happened to her before. But she was only a child!
What should I do? What can I do?
Would it do any good to run to cousin Vrain, beg him to st
op his men from molesting a servant? At Soza?
Can I hide here and let her be raped? Can I let anyone else get hurt?
The knife still sat on the table beside the abandoned loaf of bread. She almost laughed. She was a skinny girl, and they were two guards. Drunken, probably, but they were still trained killers. No. Heroics weren’t in order. She put her bowl of potatoes on the floor. Knees shaking, she stepped out of the shadows and went to the trio by the window. She touched one of the guards on the shoulder.
“Leave the girl be.” When a bloodshot eye was turned on her, she smiled, hoping it was suggestive. “She’s got a meal to cook for Vrain. You don’t want him angry, do you?”
The second guard made a grab for her. Vray danced back. Drunk, all right. She almost gagged from the stench of his breath. The first guard released Theka. The girl scrambled away as he planted his hands on his hips. His eyes raked Vray with interest while she kept smiling at him.
“You’re a pretty one.”
She gestured toward the dark storeroom. “Why don’t we go in there? You, me, and your friend.”
The second guard pushed her forward while his hands tugged at the fastening of her robe. “Good idea,” he slurred in her ear. “Pretty girl.”
The first man laughed. Retrieving a wine bottle from the table, he hustled them into the storeroom and slammed the door. Vray was glad of the darkness as she was pushed to the floor between the two guards.
* * *
Tob hit the floor, not sure if he was awake or asleep, not sure if the scream was real or something he’d dreamed. He did know, groggily, that he’d rolled out of bed and was sprawled on the rag rug spread on the attic floor. He climbed to hands and knees, shaking his head just as thunder cracked overhead—and Matti and Pepper began shrieking.
“Uhh,” he groaned muzzily. “What?”
“Iris! Wake up!” Matti called. “Tobble!”
Tob blinked, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and stumbled as quickly as he could to the girls’ side of the attic.
“What?” he asked again. Matti, Pepper, and Iris were all huddled on the same bed. The girls were pummeling Iris, trying to shake her awake, and both of them were crying. He said, “Stop that,” and moved forward just as Jordy’s head appeared at the top of the attic ladder.
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