Rehtse went off. The falling light bathed Virginia’s face as she sat facing west, toward the thick forests of northern Galce and the open sea, the Isle of Bryllan and the Highland slopes of home. Rehtse was singing to herself as she worked. The song was in a minor key, haunting and ancient, yet Virginia heard the joy in it, the unquenchable hope.
She let the sounds of the woods come over her, the evening fragrance of trees and flowers, the texture of dry earth and rock beneath her fingers, the wiry length of creeping plants encroaching upon the road. She knew they were still in the Eastern Mountains—not far from Pravik, really, despite the ground they had covered. She wondered if Rehtse knew a prayer that could give a blind woman swiftness in her steps.
Rehtse’s footsteps were light as she approached. She lowered an armload of branches to the ground at Virginia’s feet.
“Will these do?” she asked.
Virginia reached down and started to order the pile, laying kindling, her fingers feeling out the wood. She tilted her head up and smiled.
“Very well,” she said. She held up a bigger branch. “Can you find more of these?”
Rehtse was off again without a word—Virginia thought she had nodded in response—but she was soon singing again. As she listened, Virginia became aware that the song was another prayer, an evening chant. She wondered what it would have been like to grow up in a world that believed in the King and honoured his memory in its traditions. She frowned. Chants and prayers had not kept the Majesty and his son from forgetting. Just as exposure to the world beyond the Veil had not kept Lord Robert from siding with the Blackness and betraying Virginia nearly to her death. Was this mankind’s doom—to forget and betray the One who was the life in their veins?
When Rehtse came back, it didn’t take her long to light the fire, and they sat together listening to it crackle and spark. In the silence and the listening was companionship. Both felt it, and both were as warmed by its presence as by the fire.
* * *
Rehtse awoke as soon as the sun began to rise and sat marveling at the world as it moved from green to green, from deep depths to brilliance. Virginia was asleep, her face resting on her arm, her grey cloak covering all but her feet and head. Even she changed in the light of the rising sun. Rehtse had never known that the air could be so alive with light that everything within it could be transformed.
There had been lights in the Darkworld, the lights of fish-oil torches. But they moved the air only from shadow to shadow. That light had been sleep. To be in the sun was waking.
Rehtse breathed the living air and tried to feel it flowing all through her, from her head to her fingertips to her feet. She closed her eyes for a moment just to feel the sun falling on her face, the breeze blowing through her hair, the openness all around. She had always known the Darkworld lacked light and space, but never in all her dreams had she imagined how much that meant. Only sometimes at night, when she had lain awake thinking of the King and worshiping in her deepest heart, she had felt something like brushes of light and air and open places, and then she had experienced longing.
Once she had dared express this to Divad. “All worship now is longing,” he had told her. “Only when the King returns will worship cease to hurt.”
Those words rang in her head now as she lifted her hands in the sunlight and swallowed back a lump in her throat, quietly murmuring the words of the ancient morning prayer, thanking the King, the Heart of the World, in an ache that was newly strong here where she was surrounded by beauty and by light.
Movement behind her caused her to turn. Virginia was sitting up, pushing her cloak aside. Rehtse found herself smiling with an unexpected burst of affection for her companion. It was, it seemed to her, another part of her worship.
“Good morning,” Rehtse said. To her relief, her voice did not break the spell of the sunrise.
Virginia’s smile was soft. She covered her knees with her cloak and let her hands rest in her lap, idly wiping away drops of dew. The fire next to her was black, still smoking just a little.
“Do you want me to bring more firewood?” Rehtse asked, poking the smoking sticks and flaking ash away.
“Do we want to build a fire?” Virginia asked in return. “We have nothing to cook on it.” She sighed. “It may well be a hungry, difficult road to Bryllan.”
Rehtse smiled as she uncovered a few glowing embers at the bottom of the fire, golden in the morning light. “I am a priestess,” she said. “My whole life has been a difficult road.” She held out her hands and soaked up the warmth, then took Virginia’s hands and moved them over it as well. “I have learned to make the best of it,” she said.
The island of Bryllan lay to the west. When the road forked and plunged more deeply down the mountain, Rehtse waited at the fork for a few moments, lifted her hands, and murmured something. Then she took the left path, and they journeyed on. They talked a little. After several hours Virginia asked, “Do you know where we’re going?”
“West,” Rehtse said.
“How does one born in darkness tell direction?” Virginia asked.
Rehtse smiled. “A strange question for you to ask.”
Virginia smiled. “I have to trust others.”
“As do I,” Rehtse said. “In the Darkworld we made markers on the cavern walls, and some made a life’s study of the paths underground. They became guides to lead us.”
“And now?” Virginia asked. “Who leads us now?”
“I am trusting to the King to direct our paths,” Rehtse said. “He wants us to find him. So he will guide me aright.”
“And how do you know that he’s guiding you?” Virginia asked.
“I am believing,” Rehtse said, “that he will guide where I put my feet.”
“Rehtse,” Virginia said, hesitating a little, “that sounds an awful lot like trusting to luck.”
“I am a priestess,” Rehtse said. She grinned. “I don’t believe in luck.”
An hour later, they came across markings on the trees showing the points of the compass. The path was indeed heading west. Rehtse announced as much to Virginia, who shook her head and smiled as the priestess formally lifted her hands and gave thanks. The markers also indicated that they were still much closer to Pravik than Virginia wanted to be, but she swallowed her frustration. They could only move as quickly as they could move.
Night fell once again. Their stomachs and feet ached, but still they walked.
Virginia heard a sound and stopped Rehtse with a touch.
“What is it?” the priestess asked.
“Come off the path,” Virginia said quietly. She let Rehtse lead her off the road into the underbrush, branches pulling at her skirt as they ducked into the shelter of the trees. Rehtse did not ask again, but she was tense with unknowing.
Virginia said nothing. She listened.
She heard it again. Male voices, somewhere close by.
“Men,” she said, her voice even quieter than before. Rehtse pressed Virginia’s hand and sucked in her breath as the voices became suddenly loud enough to indicate that the men were on the road just before them—probably within sight, Virginia thought. Their voices had been muffled by the trees; their footsteps unheard on the damp earth.
“… nothing out here anyway,” one of them finished. The other grunted in reply. One man—a third?—coughed.
Virginia could hear the clink of weaponry and chain mail. Rehtse was still tense, and Virginia tried to crouch even lower in the brush.
“Back to camp,” the first man announced. “Patrols are a waste of time. Those cowards never even leave their city.”
“Wait,” said another man, and Virginia’s heart stopped. “What’s that?”
They were quiet for a moment, swords clanking as they bent down. Rehtse’s hand closed around Virginia’s. She was poised to run. Virginia didn’t have to ask what the men had seen. She knew. Footprints in the damp earth, probably leading straight toward them.
And though they were close to Pravik
, Virginia knew from Rehtse’s reaction and the way her own hair stood up on the back of her neck that these men were not friends. Their leader’s words also betrayed them. His accent was Southern. The other speaker’s words bore the tinge of some other region, perhaps of the far north. They were almost certainly High Police.
But why were High Police patrolling the forest?
Rehtse shifted as though she would reveal herself. Virginia gripped her hand more tightly. The brush before them was moving, branches clearing away.
“Well, well, well,” the Northern voice said. “What do we have here?”
Rehtse stood suddenly and brushed off her long skirt. Virginia stayed where she was, crouched in the underbrush. Rehtse’s voice, tinged with its own strange accent, greeted the men in the name of the King. She was utterly calm.
“The King, is it?” the Northerner said. “And who might you be—both of you?”
“I am Rehtse, a priestess of the Darkworld,” Rehtse answered. “My friend and I are traveling through these lands.”
“Alone,” the Northerner said, “and unprotected.” Virginia’s skin crawled. The third man cut in. “Don’t be a fool,” he whispered. “She might be—”
“She isn’t,” the Northerner hissed back. “These two are no threat.” Virginia could hear the leer in his voice. “Just two women alone in the woods.”
“You are mistaken,” Rehtse said. “We are not unprotected.”
Twigs crunched as the man took a menacing step forward. His voice was low. “And who protects you, woman?”
“The King himself,” Rehtse calmly answered. “And all the world in his service.”
A smile pulled at Virginia’s mouth. Rehtse was incredibly foolhardy. But after all, hadn’t Virginia known the protection of the King before this?
She stood slowly, staying close to Rehtse so the men couldn’t suddenly step in and separate them. “Rehtse is right,” she said. “We are not unprotected. But you are on unfriendly ground. What are the High Police doing so far from home?”
“The whole world is under our rule,” the Southerner said, his tone surly but lacking the leering undertones of his companion.
“Not this corner of it,” Virginia replied.
“That is our business,” the Southerner said. “As are you. You’ll come with us, no trouble given.” To his companions, he said, “We take them back to camp and turn them over to the commander. They are under my protection for now, understand?”
Virginia smiled at the grudging grunts that replied. A hand took her arm—Rehtse’s hand, firm but gentle. The men didn’t touch them as they stepped out of the brush and began to follow the police up the road. Soon, Virginia could smell campfire smoke on the wind and hear more voices, along with the sounds of horses and wagons. This was more than a small scouting party.
Great King, she sent up, if you can hear me, protect us. We are coming to seek you if only you will grant us freedom.
A light wind rustled the branches over their heads.
They stepped out from the tree cover into some kind of clearing. Rehtse’s voice sounded low in her ear, remarkably unafraid. “It is an encampment,” she said. “They fly flags of green and black. I see thirty men, maybe more.”
Virginia nodded. From the sounds and smells she would have guessed as much. But the question remained: why were they here, so close to Pravik?
The men halted, and Rehtse and Virginia stood waiting while the leader entered a tent. Virginia could hear his muffled voice drifting out through the cloth, reporting to someone who answered gruffly. A moment later the women were ushered inside.
The smell in the tent was overwhelming, a mix of meat, unwashed flesh, and smoke. Virginia nearly gagged on it. The gruff voice addressed them quickly. “Well? Who are you? What are you doing skulking in our woods?”
“I am Rehtse, a priestess of the Darkworld and servant of the true King,” Rehtse said. “We are journeying west to Galce. All this we have already told your men.”
“And who is she?” the voice asked. Virginia remained silent and cautioned Rehtse with her fingertips. The priestess did not disappoint her. “My sister. It is my privilege to speak for her, for as you can see, she is blind.”
The gruff man snorted. “That hardly affects her mouth.”
“It is not easy to speak to someone you cannot even see,” Rehtse said.
“While you seem to have no trouble speaking,” the man said. There was a sound as though he was pushing a stool back and standing. “And what can you tell me of the other woman in the woods?”
Virginia frowned. Who were they talking about?
“It cannot be a coincidence that you are wandering these forests around our camp just as that black-cloaked witch has declared war on us,” the voice said. “You are working with her.”
The words escaped Virginia almost without her bidding them to. “We are not,” she said.
“Oh, so you can speak!” the commander said. “And with feeling.”
“The woman of whom you speak,” Virginia said. “She is one of the Order of the Spider?”
“She’s a witch, yes,” the commander said. “Gone rogue, they say. Rumour has it she no longer pays allegiance to the emperor. Rumour has it she’s killing off her Order and using their power to grow her own. But you would already know that, wouldn’t you?”
Virginia’s hands trembled. “If you believe us in nothing else, my lord, believe that we have nothing to do with the woman Evelyn and her designs, whatever they may be. We did not even know she was here.”
“She’s here all right,” the commander said. “Panicking our animals and poisoning our food. That pestilence is here.”
“Why do you not simply take her captive?” Rehtse asked.
The commander ignored her. “If you’re not one of hers, whose are you? Everyone has a side in this world, for all we’re supposed to be one single blighted empire.”
“We told you,” Rehtse said. “We are servants of the true King.”
The man snorted again. “So you believe in fairy tales. Very good. That still doesn’t tell me what I want to know. Do you come from Pravik?”
“My home is in the Darkworld,” Rehtse said.
“And mine in Bryllan,” Virginia said.
The commander laughed. “I’ll believe that. Your accents betray you—if you are sisters, you were divided at birth. So tell me—”
Suddenly he tore Virginia away from Rehtse, shoving her against a post in the tent and holding a blade to her throat. “Who are you?”
She was silent, and he continued. “These woods are full of rumours. I’ve heard tell of a blind woman the Order wants. That witch will pay a handsome price if you might just happen to be her.”
“My lord…” one of the men said nervously.
“Shut up!” the commander snapped back. He didn’t release the pressure on Virginia’s throat, and the cold steel began to sting. “Tell me,” he said, “blind Seer of Pravik, how well can you see?”
Virginia did not answer. Finally the man pulled his knife away, and she swallowed convulsively. She wondered what was happening to Rehtse.
“Your silence betrays you,” the man said.
Virginia swallowed once more. “What would the witch want with me?” she asked.
“I suggest you ask her that when you see her,” the commander answered. Virginia heard something behind her, and Rehtse cried out.
Then everything went black.
* * *
Chapter 5: Enemies and Friends
The lights of the city glowing into the darkness were the first glimpse of Athrom the entourage saw. They had been passing through Italya’s flatlands with hardly a pause, and now the land dipped down as though the course of the world was rushing toward the imperial city.
Athrom, City of Dragons, City of Lights.
Maggie left the covered wagon to stretch her legs and breathe fresh air just as they crested a ridge and saw the city beneath the stars. The Ploughman rode at the head of the l
ine, wrapped in his dark cloak, a warm wind blowing around him. He reined in his horse at the sight and sat motionless, looking toward it.
What was passing through his mind was anyone’s guess. Maggie thought of Libuse in Pravik and wished her well.
A silhouette appeared from below: Cratus, riding back after scouting ahead. He said something to Harutek and the Ploughman, and the men exchanged murmurs. Maggie shivered in the warm breeze and turned back to the wagon. Cratus had been watching her, and it unnerved her. But the rust on the wagon wheels had cleared completely. A lame-footed horse walking by the sick cart while she sang cantered beautifully now. And her songs continued to come, wanting to be sung more than she wanted to sing them.
Prince Harutek rode up beside the wagon. “Shall we draw back the cover?” he asked. “So that you may see the city as we enter it? It is a great wonder, they say—whatever else it may be.”
Maggie nodded. She wanted to see the others as they rode, and the sky overhead, and the city itself. She wanted to feel the warm wind. Harutek set to work pulling the cover back.
And so Maggie sat in the open air, holding Huss’s hand, as they entered the city. The gates soared overhead, golden, ivory, carved and glorious. They were there not for protection—Athrom was not a walled city and had no enemies—but for ceremony. Maggie kept silent as they passed through, straining her neck to their carved heights. The walls of a great coliseum were visible in the distance. Maggie saw Harutek’s grim face as he looked at it. It was in defending the Gypsies there that his brother Caasi had died.
Maggie’s throat tightened, and she thought of Virginia whose vision had sent the Ploughman, Harutek and Caasi, and many other brave men to the Gypsies’ rescue. They had gone, recognizing their enmity with the Empire and all it stood for. They had gone because they could not allow a race of people to die, and with them, the hope they stood for—the hope of freedom and of the King.
So why were they here now?
Horse hooves beside the cart drew her attention, and she met the eyes of the Ploughman. He too felt the strangeness of being here, of the very idea of alliance with those who had always been their enemies. Her heart went out to him. Cratus was near, so Maggie dropped her voice to keep him from hearing.
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