Sorrow gripped him.
“But you might be the spark that ignites the wild grass fire,” she continued.
Hope forced him up, made him stare right into the glitter that surrounded her.
“You plead to have the Wastes restored to what was, wanderer. To have the horses return, to flourish and grow. For forgiveness of the betrayal so long ago..”
“Yes, on behalf of all my people,” he said breathlessly, tears in his eyes. “Yes.”
“It requires much,” she said. “The price is high.”
“Yes,” Vren said again.
“Even if you do not see it in your lifetime?” she pressed.
“Yes,” he said for the third time. “Even so.”
The Spirit turned her head ever so slightly. The male figure behind her nodded, giving assent.
“Let it be so,” she said, and now there was warmth in the hollowness. “Willing sacrifice, willingly made. Not an easy thing, but you will have a choice to make, wanderer. You will know when the moment comes. Remember us.” She put her hand on the horse’s shoulder. The warhorse shook its head, rattling its barding, and stamped its hoof.
Brightness flared all around them. When his sight returned, they were gone. All that was left was an old plow horse, who snorted and turned its head away.
Vren, mouth dry, backed away, shaken, his heart racing. He returned to his pallet, buried himself in the blankets, and tried to convince himself that what had happened had not truly happened. He stared at the beams above him, his heart pounding, his breathing coming faster and faster as a panic he’d never felt before overcame him.
The plow horse snorted again and stamped her hoof.
Peace washed over him, and with it, sleep.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“That’s enough for today, Yfin. Fetch us some water.”
Orval looked up from his book as Roth and Yfin ended their sparring session. They’d begun by clearing a large space in front of the guardhouse, sweeping the thin snow from the cobblestones. This was followed by work on developing Yfin’s fighting skills. The sounds of their practice had been an oddly peaceful backdrop to Orval’s study of a section of theEpic of Xyson.
Now he checked the baskets at his feet, where the babes slept in the sun, bundled against the chill. Here in the courtyard, out of the wind, it was warm enough to give them a bit of sun and air.
It also gave Amari and Rosalind a bit of privacy as they saw to Aunt Xydell’s needs.
Yfin ran off to the well inside, bucket in hand.
Roth settled on the bench next to Orval, removing his helmet and pushing his sweaty hair back. He lowered his head, hiding his face and making a fuss over checking the helmet’s lining. “They’re watching us,” he murmured.
“Oh? Where?” Orval looked around.
“Don’t do that,” Roth growled.
Orval flinched. “Oh, yes, of course.” He pretended to focus on his book.
“You are the oddest combination of book smart and street stupid,” Roth said.
“Sorry,” Orval said.
“You don’t look for watchers. We don’t want them to know that we know,” Roth said. “As far as I can tell, they aren’t there now. Probably getting their nooning and giving a report. They’ve been watching for days.”
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” Orval bit his lip. “Are we at risk?”
Roth snorted. “We’ve been at risk from the moment we were abandoned here,” he reminded Orval grimly. “So far, they are just watching from a distance. A few high in the Keep windows, some from the far walls. No threat. Yet.” Roth set his helmet down. “We are going to have to confront them at some point.”
