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With a groan, the weaving shed collapsed. Ash and smoke cast a pale cloud into the air, visible against the darker night. She followed its thread up, and up, and caught her breath as she craned back to stare at the heavens.
For the first time in months, stars shone where that brief storm had torn the clouds into rags. So it remained all night, just a few stars shifting as they passed across the zenith. At dawn, the red rim of the sun rose over the trees so bright and glaring that everyone came running outside to stare and rejoice despite their losses, and laughed and cried as the haze bled back over the heavens, covering the rift.
She saw no sign of anyone out in the trees.
“I must go look,” she said to Ingo, who had remained below her, watchful but silent, all that time.
“I think it’s a bad idea.”
“I can’t abandon Sorgatani.”
“If all that’s said is true, then she’s in no danger. And can protect the frater who bides with her, as well. Say.” He slanted a look at her, speculating. “A few have said he’s her lover.”
“He is not. For many years he served Prince Bayan, who was later Princess Sapientia’s husband.”
“Here, now.” He reached up to help her clamber down, and Stephen climbed up past her to take her place, but Ingo kept his big hand on her upper arm and bent close, drawing her away to speak privately with her. He smelled of smoke—no doubt they all did—but he had a slight minty smell to him, as though he’d been chewing leaves.
“What?” she asked him, taken aback by his size and strength.
“Is it true? None of us have seen, but all speak of it. That Princess Sapientia lives?”
“She does.”
“You’ve traveled with her all this time? Tell me the tale, Hanna, I pray you. We must know.”
She hesitated, and he frowned.
“Sanglant is a strong ruler,” he said, more quietly still, so close that he could have kissed her, but his interest in her had always been that of an older brother. “When he came to Osterburg, we were heartened for the first time since King Henry departed for Aosta. I pray you, Hanna, what does the princess intend? Will she challenge him?”
“I don’t know.”
He sighed, shoulders sagging, glancing away and making a face.
“She is ill, Ingo. Listen closely. In the days I have traveled with her—months now—I have not heard her speak. She suffers some disease of the mind. She’s little better than a simpleton, although I have no right to say such a thing of a royal princess.”
“Best to say it if it is true! Sanglant is regnant, and the army loves him, and we’ll follow him, but there are those who mutter he is not the rightful heir. What will those noble folk do when Sapientia returns?”
“How can we know?”
“Who will you serve, Hanna, if you must choose?”
“Are you saying there may be civil war between them? The princess cannot feed herself, much less lead an army.”
“An army can be led in her name.”
“Who would do so? Her sister?”
“Nay, not Princess Theophanu, unless she plays a deeper game than we ever glimpsed. We bided in Osterburg for some two years or more, building walls and chasing down bandits. She’s a faithful steward. King Sanglant named her duke of Saony, and she accepted.”
“Then who?”
He shrugged. “Only wondering, that’s all.”
“Best I go and find Liath, if you wish to keep Prince Sanglant happy.”
He considered this, still frowning.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
