CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I strolled through Terravin swinging a stringed bundle in each hand. One for me and one for Pauline. I didn’t need Otto to carry these light loads, and I wanted the freedom of venturing down pathways and avenues at a leisurely pace, so today I walked to town on my own.
With all in order at the inn, Berdi told me to take the day and spend it as I chose. Pauline still passed her days at the Sacrista, so I went alone with only one acquisition in mind. I might have to wait for the kavah to fade, but that didn’t mean I had to wear my ragged trousers, heavy skirts, or long-sleeved shirts until it was gone. It was a mere piece of decoration on my shoulder now, with no hint of royalty or betrothal, and whether it stayed or went, I wouldn’t let it rule my dress one more day.
I walked down near the docks, and the smell of salt, fish, wet timber, and the fresh red paint on the tackle shop swirled on the breeze. It was a healthy, robust smell that suddenly made me smile. It made me think, I love Terravin. Even the air.
I remembered Gwyneth’s words. Terravin is not paradise, Lia.
Of course Terravin had its own problems. I didn’t need Gwyneth to tell me it wasn’t perfect. But in Civica, the air itself was tight, waiting to catch you, beat you down, always laced with the scent of watching and warning. Here in Terravin, the air was just air, and whatever it held, it held. It didn’t take anyone hostage, and this showed on the townsfolk’s faces. They were quicker to smile, wave, call you into a shop for a taste, to share a laugh or a bit of news. The town was filled with ease.
Pauline would get over Mikael. She’d look to the future. Berdi, Gwyneth, and I would help her, and of course Terravin itself, the home she loved. There wasn’t a better place for us to be.
With tomorrow the first day of the festival, remembrances sprang from all corners of the town, sailors hoisting nets, scrubbing decks, furling sails, favorite verses of this one or that blending effortlessly with their day’s work into a song that stirred me in ways the holy songs never had, a natural music—the flap of sails over our heads, the fishmonger calling out a catch, the swash of water lapping sterns, the bells of distant boats hailing one another, a pause, a note, a jangle, a shout, a laugh, a prayer, the swish of a mop, the rasp of a rope, it all became one song, connected in a magical way that strummed through me.
Faithful, faithful,
Hoist there! Pull!
Pure of heart, pure of mind,
Holy Remnant, blessed above all,
Rockfish! Perch! Sablefish! Sole!
Stars and wind,
Rain and sun,
Chosen Remnant, holy one,
Day of deliverance, freedom, hope,
Turn the winch! Knot the rope!
Faithful, faithful,
Blessed above all,
Salt and sky, fish and gull,
Lift up your voice,
Sing the way there!
Morrighan leads
By mercy of gods,
Fresh fish! Thresher! Bluefin! Cod!
Journey’s end, through the vale,
Pull the anchor! Set the sail!
Morrighan blessed,
For evermore.
I turned down a quiet lane back toward the main road, the layers of songs floating behind me. “Evermore,” I whispered, feeling the remembrances in a new way, my voice feeling like it was part of something new, maybe something I could understand.
I have you, I have you now.
I looked over my shoulder, the strange gravelly words out of place among the others, but the bay was far behind me now, the sea carrying away the tunes.
“Ho there, lass! A pretty crown for the festival?”
I spun. A wrinkled gap-toothed man sat on a stool outside the chandlery, squinting in the midday sun. He held up an arm draped with cheerful garlands of dried flowers to adorn the head. I stopped to admire them, but was cautious about spending any more money. The bundles I carried had already used up most of the coin I’d earned at the tavern in a month. There were still the gems, of course, and one day I would travel to Luiseveque to exchange them, but that money would be set aside for Pauline. She would need it more than I would, so I had to be careful with what little I had. Still, as I held a garland in my hand, I imagined it on my head at the festival and Rafe leaning closer to admire a flower or catch its faint scent. I sighed. I knew that wasn’t likely to happen.
I shook my head and smiled. “They’re beautiful,” I said, “but not today.”
“Only a copper,” he offered.
Back in Civica, I’d have thrown a copper into the fountain just for the fun of seeing where it landed, and indeed a copper was little enough to pay for something so cheery—and the festival did come only once a year. I bought two, one with pink flowers for Pauline’s hair, and one with lavender flowers for mine.
With my hands now full, I made my way back to the inn, smiling, picturing something more cheerful on Pauline’s head than the somber white mourning scarf, though I wasn’t sure I could convince her to wear the garland instead. I took the upper road back to the inn, no more than a wide dirt trail, taking advantage of the shade and the quiet. The wind whispered a soothing hush through the pines, while a complaining jay sometimes jarred the peace and a scolding squirrel chirped back. I had a little something extra in my bundle for Walther and Greta. Something sweet and lacy and small. I couldn’t wait to give it to him. Walther’s hands would be so large and clumsy holding it. It made me smile. When did he say he would stop by again?
Be careful, sister, be careful.
Something cold crouched low in my gut, and I stopped walking. His warning was so close, so immediate, but distant too.
“Walther?” I called out, knowing he couldn’t possibly be here, but—
I heard the footsteps, but too late. I didn’t even have time to turn before I was crushed by an arm across my chest. I was yanked backward, my arms pinned at my sides. A brutal hand clamped down on my wrist. I screamed but then felt the prick of a knife at my throat and heard a warning not to utter another sound. I could smell him, the stench of rotten teeth on hot breath, oily unwashed hair, and the overwhelming odor of sweat-soaked clothing, all of it as oppressive as the arm that squeezed me. The knife pressed into my flesh, and I felt the tickle of blood running into the hollow of my neck.
“I have no money,” I said. “Just a—”
“I’m going to tell you this once only. I want what you stole.”
My knife was sheathed beneath my jerkin at my left side, just inches from my fingers, but I couldn’t reach up with my left hand to get it, and my right arm was held tight in his grip. If I could just buy some time.
“I’ve stolen many things,” I said. “Which one—”
“This knife is courtesy of the Scholar and Chancellor,” he growled. “That should help you remember.”
“I didn’t take anything of theirs.”
He shifted his grip, pushing the knife higher so I had to press back against him to avoid having it cut deeper into my skin. I didn’t dare breathe or move, even though he loosened his hold on my arm. He produced a piece of paper, shaking it in front of my eyes. “And this note says different. The Scholar told me to tell you he wasn’t amused.”
I recognized the note. My own.
Such an intriguing piece, but tsk, not properly
shelved. It is now. I hope you don’t mind.
“If I give it back, you’ll kill me.” The only parts of my body I could move were my legs. I gingerly shuffled my right boot along the dirt, trying to find where his foot was positioned behind me. I finally met with something solid. My blood pounded in my ears, every part of me on fire.
“I’m paid to kill you either way,” he answered, “but I could make it more painful for you if that’s the way you want it. And then there’s that pretty friend of yours—”
My knee jerked upward, and I stomped down on the top of his foot as hard as I could, my elbow jamming back into his ribs at the same time. I jumped away and whirled at him, pulling out my knife. He was coming at me, grimacing in pain, but then he abruptly stopped. His eyes widened unnaturally and then his face lost all expression except for his bulging eyes. He crumpled to the ground, falling to his knees. I looked at the knife in my hands, wondering if I had thrust it into him without even knowing it. He fell forward at my feet, facedown, his fingers twitching in the dirt.
I saw movement. Kaden was ten yards away, a crossbow at his side, Rafe a bit farther behind him. They rushed toward me but stopped a few feet away.
“Lia,” Rafe said, holding his hand out, “give me the knife.”
I looked down at the weapon still clutched in my hand and then back at him. I shook my head. “I’m all right.” I brushed my jerkin aside and tried to return the knife to its sheath, but it spilled from my fingers to the ground. Kaden retrieved it and slid it into its thin leather casing for me. I stared at what was left of the garlands crushed beneath our feet in the scuffle, tiny pieces of pink and lavender scattered across the forest floor.
“Your neck,” Rafe said. “Let me see.” He lifted my chin and wiped at the blood with his thumb.
Everything still seemed to be happening in fast jerky movements. Rafe produced a piece of cloth—a kerchief?—and pressed it to my neck. “We’ll have Berdi look at it. Can you hold this here?” I nodded and he lifted my hand to my neck, pressing my fingers into the cloth. He walked over and kicked the man’s shoulder to make sure he was dead. I knew he was. His fingers were no longer twitching.
“I heard you scream,” Kaden said, “but I couldn’t get a clear shot at him until you pushed away. At this range, the arrow might have gone straight through him into you.” He set his crossbow down and knelt beside the body, breaking off the arrow that protruded from the man’s back. Together he and Rafe rolled him over.
We all stared at the man, whose eyes were still open. Blood filled deep creases on either side of his mouth, making him look like a startled puppet.
Neither of them seemed affected by his appearance. Perhaps they had examined many dead bodies. I hadn’t. My knees weakened.
“Do you know him?” Rafe asked.
I shook my head.
Kaden stood. “What did he want?”
“Money,” I said automatically, surprising myself. “He just wanted money.” I couldn’t tell them the truth without revealing who I was. And then I saw the note, the small piece of paper written in my own hand, fluttering only inches from his fingers.
“Do we call the constable?” Kaden asked.
“No!” I said. “Please, don’t! I can’t—” I took a step forward, and my knees melted away, blood rushing behind my eyes, the world spinning. I felt hands catching me, scooping beneath my legs.
Carry her back. I’ll take care of the body.
My head spun, and I tried to breathe deeply, fearing I would retch, a hand holding the cloth to my neck again. Breathe, Lia, breathe. You’ll be all right … but with my world spinning, I wasn’t sure if the words I heard were Kaden’s or my own.