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“What could we possibly hope to undo?” The smoke, the flames? Weaver? Tresilian’s dead stare? Or Goddess forbid, his father’s? Alwenna shivered.
“You saved my life today, sister. Now I would save your soul.”
Alwenna’s eyes turned to the knife again. The gemstones glinted now. Such a pretty thing.
“We should wrap it up. Bind it up so no one can touch it.” Erin’s voice startled Alwenna, who looked up guiltily.
Erin hitched her skirt up and took her eating knife to her underskirts, tearing off a long strip which she dropped over the knife, then folded around it. Alwenna followed suit, handing the fabric to Erin, who wrapped the bundle a second time. Marten held out his ragged sleeve and she took the lower portion of that and added it, tying it securely with another strip of petticoat. Then she went to the horses and plucked three hairs from each of their tails, plaiting them and knotting them over the bundle.
“My da always said it was lucky.”
As if anything they did now could change what had happened.
They sat there on the riverbank with the innocuous bundle between them. Alwenna’s baby wriggled and she finally tore her eyes away from the package, pressing her hand to her abdomen.
“My soul, Marten? Does it need saving?”
“You became kinslayer when you saved me – and you used a cursed blade tainted with your family’s blood.”
“Is it kinslaying to kill one who has already died?”
Marten shrugged. “In truth, I do not know. The blade already draws you.”
Alwenna drew in a deep breath, then spoke carefully. “I’m carrying his child. From… before. Before I was sent from Highkell. Might this curse harm the child?”
Marten’s face was grave. “I… It… Our elders will know.”
“How will we find them?” How did freemerchants find one another? They could be anywhere across the Peninsula.
“At Scarrow’s Deep.”
“Where’s that?”
“It’s the place we freemerchants call home, sister.”
“But you’re not allowed to hold land.”
“You’ll not find Scarrow’s Deep on any map of the Peninsular Kingdoms.” With a tight smile, Marten picked up the bundle containing the dagger and stowed it inside his tunic.
Alwenna fought the urge to snatch it from him.
“And we don’t hold Scarrow’s Deep by any royal decree. We scratched it from the bowels of the earth with our bare hands, in a remote corner where no king holds sway.”
“Weaver said you had many secrets to hide.” She spoke his name without thinking. He might have survived. Maybe if she spoke his name often enough…
“Our people have learned to hide our secrets well, sister. Now we must ride. The sooner we reach Scarrow’s Deep, the sooner we can answer your questions.”
Alwenna twisted round to look back towards the summer palace before they rode over the crest of the ridge. The column of smoke rose still, high and higher, dark and bold, climbing through the cloudless sky. Her work this time. She couldn’t blame groundwater, or poor foundations. She’d kindled the fire, set the flames, done everything just as Weaver had taught her.
Her monstrous work.
She turned her back and rode after the others.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THREE
At Highkell Vasic rose from his sickbed. The room was rank with the stench of stale sweat and vomit. And something else. Smoke? He pushed back the curtains, peering out over the courtyard. He could see no sign of anything burning, no sign of smoke. But the daylight felt good on his face.
He opened the casement, gulping in the fresh air with a vigour he hadn’t known in days. He stretched, braced for the pain that would shoot through his limbs and settle beneath his ribs, gnawing at his innards.
Except… The pain had gone. He prodded the area gingerly, again braced for the stabbing sensation, but there was no trace of it. He felt nothing more than the residual stiffness of one who had lain in bed too long.
He summoned a servant. “Bring me hot water. I will bathe. Summon the healer. And my steward after that. And I want food, proper food. Meat. None of that pap you’ve been bringing me of late.” Vasic turned to look out of the window again, out over the gorge across the valley to the wooded hills that were so often shrouded in rain, but now basked in sunshine.
He drew in a long breath, filling his lungs to capacity. He smiled. Life was good.
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