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She could feel no sense of him at all when she finished dressing, which may have been just as well. She was not sure she liked the idea of being “entertainment” for anyone, elemental or no.
She found her way to the mouth of the cave and looked out, clinging to the rim of the opening. Dawn was coming, and she had no way to return to the inn.
“No wonder he gave me the Jewel,” she muttered, sliding down to sit on the rock floor. “I’m going to die here anyway.” She knew the idea should bother her, but it didn’t. Her eyelids were getting heavy, and she barely noticed the cold. Pulling her cloak over her face, she went to sleep.
She was warm—all of her, not parts. She could smell clean linen and herbal salves. Forcing her eyes open, Alanna wondered how long she’d been out.
“Never again.” Her voice was harsh in her ears. “I won’t spend another winter in the cold.” Her eyes watered as she tried to look around.
“You could’ve fooled me.” The deep rumble was Liam’s voice. “If a man went by the way you act, he’d think you live to freeze!”
She sighed. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. He was slowly coming into focus, and she wasn’t surprised to see that his eyes were pure emerald in color.
“Sorry?” His voice cracked on the word.
“I’m sorry I had to go into a blizzard at all. I wasn’t given a choice, remember?”
“You had your gods-cursed cat witch me!”
Alanna tried to push herself upright and winced: he hands were heavily bandaged and throbbed under the weight she’d put on them. “Ironarm, stop it! Aren’t there times when you act alone?”
“This isn’t the same!”
“Horse dung it isn’t. People like us have to know when to break rules. This was one of those times, and I was right to do it. I am sorry I hurt you. Chitral didn’t leave me much of a choice.”
He walked out without looking at her.
Thayet came in a few minutes later with a pitcher of mulled cider. A maid followed with a tray of food, and Alanna’s stomach growled a welcome. Seeing tearstains on Alanna’s face, Thayet said, “The Dragon will be all right.” She poured a cup of cider and helped Alanna to drink it. “He was worried sick about you. We all were.”
“The Jewel?” Alanna didn’t want to talk about Liam. “Where is it?”
“Under your pillow. Can you manage a spoon?”
Alanna looked at a bowl of porridge dotted with dried fruit and cream. “I’ll manage if it kills me.”
Unfortunately, she couldn’t handle a spoon. Thayet fed her, ignoring Alanna’s protests. “You’ve been asleep almost a week,” the Princess said. “The storm was over when we woke up. You were out there when it stopped?” Alanna nodded.
“There was a tremor of some kind—a little earthquake—just after dawn,” Thayet continued. “When it was over, the pass was clear. The innkeeper and some of the guests ran for a temple at that point, I think. You remember the Doi who were staying here? They went out and brought you down, slung over a pony. They said they found you in front of a cave near the top of the pass. You were a mess.”
“Can I talk to them?” Alanna wanted to know. “Thank them?”
Thayet shook her head. “They’re gone. They left when you started to get better. Buri says they don’t like to be thanked.”
“Did—the healers say how I am?”
Thayet put down the spoon. “You’ll have a scar from your neck to your abdomen, right between your breasts. Your hands will mend. They said you’d do better once you woke up and used your own Gift on them.” Reminded by this, Alanna felt for her magic and found it. Her rest had restored it to full strength. Thayet began to tidy up, saying, “The Doi healer said your hands will always know when it’s going to storm.”
“‘Old swordsmen and their scars know the coming rain,’” Alanna quoted—it was a common saying. “I suppose I had to pay for this somehow.”
“Was it worth the price?”
“I don’t know.” Alanna drew the Jewel from beneath her pillow and looked at it. The gem fit neatly into the center of her palm. “Thayet, do you want this? For Sarain? It seems as if you need it more than Tortall does right now.” She offered it to the Princess, who stepped back with an odd look on her face. The Jewel began to shimmer with an internal light, until Thayet pushed Alanna’s hand away.
“No female can hold the Saren throne.” Her voice was soft. “The Book of Glass forbids it. Children hear tales of other lands, less wise than ours, who came to grief because they let a woman rule. The chiefs of the Hau Ma, the Churi, and the Raadeh are women, but they’re K’mir, and everyone knows the K’mir are savages.”
“Tortall isn’t like the K’mir, but it isn’t that bad, either,” Alanna said. The bitterness in Thayet’s voice hurt.
“All my life I’ve been worthless, the one who should have been a male and an heir. My father was kind, in his way—I take after him in looks.” Thayet rubbed the arch of her nose. “But he never forgot I wasn’t a boy. Every morning the Daughters of the Goddess and the Mithran priests have orders to pray for a jin Wilima in their daybreak services.”
Alanna swallowed. If he’d loved his daughter, how could the Warlord have humiliated her like that? “Thayet, I’m sorry.”
The Princess didn’t hear. “I’ll tell you something else, Lady Knight. In Tortall you lied about your sex and kept it secret for years, but when the truth came out, you were allowed to keep your shield. We heard about you at my father’s court. The majority opinion was that you should be burned, although one group held out for death by torture.” Thayet put the tray beside the door. “I thought Tortall sounded like Paradise. It’s certainly an improvement on my father’s palace or the convents, and it has to be better than what I’ll get if I return to Sarain now.”
“You didn’t have to tell me any of this.” Alanna slid the Jewel beneath her pillow again. “A simple ’no’ would’ve worked.”
The Princess’s face had been hard and distant. Slowly she brightened. “A ’simple no’?” she repeated, amused. “Alanna, my very dear, you’re an incredibly high-minded person, have you noticed? You take duty and responsibility seriously. If you believed I turned my back on Sarain for a whim or a fit of temper, you’d lose any respect you have for me.” She put a hand on the knight’s shoulder. “Before I met you, I thought the women of our class were useless. Those who go to Shang are commoners. Noble families chain their daughters in their rooms rather than permit them that life. The K’mir have no one of noble blood, only people who earn their honors. But you and I come from over-bred families, good as ornaments and nothing more. And you are far from useless.”
Alanna blushed. “Thayet, you’re flattering me. It was easier for me to rebel than stay and make something of myself. Why didn’t I go to convent school and prove ladies are more than ornaments that way?”
Thayet’s look was skeptical. “What I’m trying to say is that I look forward to creating my own life. In Tortall I can, because I’ll be without rank or title.” She sat on the bed. “I’m going to start a school for the children of commoners. Once I sell my jewels, I’ll have plenty of money to do so.”
Alanna, who had different plans for Thayet, said hastily, “I won’t cast you adrift when we’re there! You’ll be our guest—Thom’s and Myles’s and mine. The school’s a grand idea, but there are ways and ways to start one.”
Thayet shrugged. “Look at me, rattling on when you just woke up.” Firmly, she tucked blankets around Alanna. “Try to sleep some more.” She left, carrying the tray.
Sleep was the last thing Alanna wanted. She’d had a week of it. With an effort she threw off her blankets and stood. Leaning against a bedpost for support, she took inventory: twisted leg—stiff but painless; assorted bruises—fine; gash on her chest and bitten lip—cleanly healed; eyes—teary but working; hands—she didn’t want to think about her hands. Not bad, considering.
She dressed in garments that could be pulled on. Buttons and buckles were more than she could handle. She tucked her feet into slippers and clumsily ran a brush through her hair. Keeping a watch for well-meaning persons who might shoo her back to her room, she escaped to the stables.
