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Wolfhere sighed.
“You were seen last in the company of Brother Marcus and Sister Meriam. You ran from them. Yet now you appear here, with Meriam’s granddaughter in your care. Where were you? How did you escape the cataclysm?”
“Fortune favored us,” said the old man dryly.
“You were least among the Seven Sleepers. Cauda draconis, the tail of the dragon. They told me that you were too ignorant to weave the crowns. Is that true?”
“Yes, it’s true. I was never taught the art of the mathematici. Mine was the gift of Eagle’s Sight, and of the skills necessary to a messenger who spends his life on the road. Thus, I am peculiarly situated to survive long journeys through hostile lands.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“It matters little to me if you believe me or not, Lord Hugh. Why should it? The battle is lost, and Anne is dead.”
“Thus your purpose for being.”
“Thus my purpose for being,” said Wolfhere in a flat voice. “What is it you want? Or are you merely here to gloat?”
“It’s true I have no liking for you, Eagle. You stole from me the thing that is rightly mine. I mean to have it back.”
“How will you accomplish that? Liath is dead, is she not? Like the others.”
She heard the other man take in a raggedly drawn breath, sharp and sweet. “Not dead. Not dead.”
Abruptly, the old man’s tone became edged. “Where have you seen her? How do you know?”
“Where have I seen her? In Wendar, my friend. Standing beside the bastard who calls himself king.”
“I have heard the tale of Henry’s passing. I wasn’t sure it was true.”
“Oh, true it is, and the prince of dogs crowned and anointed by Mother Scholastica herself, although I think she was not best pleased in the doing.”
“So it is true. And Liath has survived, so you say.” No doubt he was eager to hear these tidings, but he kept his voice low and even.
“Can you not see her yourself, with your vaunted Eagle’s Sight? Have you not spoken with your discipla, Hathui, who has gained the protection of the new king and stands in his very shadow?”
There was a long pause, and a quiet shuffling of feet above her. Anna glanced up to see a shadowed form bent over the trap, looking down toward her, but it was obvious that his eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness below.
“You may as well know that I am blind,” said Wolfhere. “Since the cataclysm.”
“Blinded? Useless and helpless, then. Master of nothing, servant to no one. Yet why tell me so? Why confess as much to me, Eagle?”
“Because I hurt, Lord Hugh. If I tell you that you can gain nothing from torturing me, then perhaps you will not do so.”
“Ah. I suppose it is the Holy Mother—or the queen—who sees you used so ill. What do they want to know?”
“Nothing I would tell you, if I would also not tell them. Leave us be, Lord Hugh. I do not know what is your purpose here. I ask you only for this favor: leave us be.”
“What will you give me in return?”
“In return for what?”
“For leaving you be.”
“So we come around again to my first question: what do you want?”
“Who is Liath’s father?”
“Bernard.”
