Breath of Angel (25 page)

For a day and a night, Melaia lay in bed, her mind churning over how to get to Hanni and the girls. By the morning of the second day, when Livia came to check on her, she was able to sit up without getting dizzy.

“I have a plan,” Melaia announced.

Livia placed a cool hand on Melaia’s forehead. “What kind of plan?”

“A plan to get into the palace at Qanreef. I rode partway to Redcliff in a wagon with a troupe of actors.”

“Indeed?” said Livia. “I saw them enter Redcliff the day I met you at the temple.”

“Their leader, Caepio, said they would be going to Qanreef. If we can find the troupe, we might ride into the city with them. We could pass as actors, couldn’t we?”

“We?”

Melaia felt her face grow warm. “I was wrong to yell at you and Pym. I’m sorry. I need your help.”

“We’ve saddled you with a great deal of responsibility in a very short time, I’m afraid.”

“Did Pym and Gil return?”

“They did,” said Livia.

Melaia glanced at the painted ramble roses. “Trevin?”

“He returned as well.” Livia stroked Melaia’s hair. “May I suggest tempering your impulses with wisdom, my lady?”

Melaia sighed. “I’ll try. Does my plan sound wise?”

“It sounds possible. I’ll think on it.”

At midday Livia brought Melaia a cup of hot barley broth and a clean gown. “Gerda says when you finish this broth, you can join the rest of us.” She began combing Melaia’s hair.

Melaia sipped on the salty brew and gazed out the round bedside window. In the distance Jarrod and Trevin talked as they sat on the ground, leaning against a large wagon wheel that rested on a pile of planks. “They’re not toiling much out there,” she said.

“On the contrary, I think there’s a great deal of work going on. It’s hard to heal a wounded heart.”

Melaia’s cheeks warmed. “If you’re speaking of Trevin’s heart, I have good reason to be wary of him.”

“I’ll grant you that.” Livia tugged at a tangle. “But long-held anger ferments into poison, the same kind that infected the Firstborn. I hate to see it seeping into you. You remember Lord Beker? Like him, a bitter heart often refuses to be set free, even though the cell door is open.” She looked Melaia full in the face. “What would it cost you to free both yourself and Trevin? Just a word or two. Sometimes one word sways the balance between bondage and freedom, pain and wholeness, death and life.”

For a long time after Livia left, Melaia stared out the window at Trevin, who handed Jarrod tools as they worked on the side of a wagon. “Feel free to shake me,” Trevin had said of his terror-dreams. “Slap me if you need to.” She felt Livia’s words—and Jarrod’s too—as a slap to wake her from viewing the world in temple-tight rules.

She had wanted Trevin to be one thing or the other, good or bad, trustworthy or not. The same with Livia and Jarrod and the rest of the world. The same with herself. She wanted certainty.

But life was not certain. Temple rules, the easy dos and don’ts, had masked that fact. Wake up, Melaia told herself. Life had never been certain. It wasn’t certain now, and it never would be.

Trevin bent down so fast Melaia thought he was fainting. Then she saw two draks flying over the field. Jarrod stepped between the draks and Trevin, shielding him from view. The draks flew low above them. She wondered if Lord Rejius was searching for Trevin.

It occurred to Melaia that she could make her own search. She slipped Dreia’s book out from under the bedcovers and turned to the blank pages at the back. As she suspected, the dark page was still dark. The other page was quick to form lines that crossed and swayed, nothing else.

But on the page that had previously shown images, lines sharpened to reveal a man lying on a bed. Or a bier. His spirit outlined his body. A woman knelt at his side, but Melaia could see only her back. The woman placed something at the man’s lips, then whirled around in alarm.

Melaia clapped the book shut. The dying man was King Laetham. The woman was Hanni.

M
elaia dashed into the common room. “I’ve seen Hanni! In the book!” She thrust Dreia’s book into Livia’s hands. “Hanni is with the king. He’s dying.”

“How can you see such a thing?” Gerda dumped peas from her apron into a bubbling pot on the hearth.

“The book shows what the harps see,” said Melaia. “That means Hanni is wherever the harp is. Surely the girls are nearby. I must leave for Qanreef
now.
” She looked at Livia. “
We
must leave for Qanreef. I’ve wasted our time grandly, but perhaps there’s still a chance—”

“You can’t go yet.” Gerda wiped the back of her hand across her red cheeks. “Pym and my Gil have gone to find Caepio. That was your plan, wasn’t it?”

“But—”

“Pym knows our time is short,” said Livia. “With or without the actors, Pym and Gil will return.”

“When?” asked Melaia.

“Soon as they can.” Gerda handed her the spoon. “Your turn to stir.”

Melaia swished the spoon in the thick stew, which steamed a rich, golden aroma.

Jarrod and Trevin tramped in, sweaty and grinning. Jarrod settled himself on a bench by the wall and began combing sawdust out of his hair. Trevin’s glance met Melaia’s for only a moment. He quickly looked away, then stretched out flat on the floor and closed his eyes.

Melaia gripped the spoon tighter, took a deep breath, and said, “Trevin, thank you for rescuing me from the raiders. I’m sorry I put you in danger. You too, Jarrod.”

Jarrod nodded. Trevin opened one eye and peered at her. “If I remember correctly, you rescued
me
once.” He closed his eye again.

So that’s why you took my place
, thought Melaia.
This for that. Even the score
.

She stirred so hard that splashes of stew spattered out of the pot and sizzled in the fire. One drop landed on her arm. She quickly licked it off, taking it as a warning to hold her impulsive spirit in check. She recalled the ramble roses.
Train yourself
, she thought.
Train your stubborn self
.

Jarrod suddenly straightened, his head cocked. Livia rose at the same time. Melaia stopped stirring and watched the warning that flashed between them. Melaia sensed it herself, a dark threat edging around her spirit.

“Malevolents!” said Jarrod. “Approaching.”

“And fast.” Livia handed the book back to Melaia. “They must be on horses.”

“Talonmasters?” Melaia stuffed the book into her waist sash, every muscle tensed.

“Blast!” said Trevin. “The draks must have seen me. And I have no sword, no dagger.”

“Gil has a blade in a trunk by our bed,” said Gerda.

Trevin hurried out of the room, holding his side again.

“Keep the blade out of sight,” Gerda called after him. “My Gil says not to provoke a ruffian.”

Bram began to bark furiously in the yard.

Gerda peeked through a crack in the shuttered window. Her red cheeks paled. “Two riders down the road. Pausing now. Releasing their draks.”

“Livia and I can take them,” said Jarrod.

“No fighting unless you absolutely must.” Gerda shoved Jarrod toward the back door. “Get out before they sense you. You too, Livia. You’ll best serve us all by getting Melaia well away from the house until I get rid of them.”

“And how will you do that?” Trevin stepped in, slipping the dagger under his belt.

“I’ll be the only one here.” Gerda wrung her apron. “Go! Go! There’s a back door. Use it.”

Jarrod growled, but he took Livia by one arm and Melaia by the other. “I hope this works.”

“I stay,” said Trevin. “They may have come for me anyway. I’m sure by now they know I’m out of my cell.”

“Will they take you back?” Melaia asked, but Jarrod steered her and Livia through the cookroom before she could get an answer.

“According to Livia, you believe Trevin is a good liar.” Jarrod trotted them out the back door. “Maybe he can talk his way out of it.”

“How far must you be from malevolents to remain hidden?” Melaia asked.

“If we’re still, we can sometimes be quite near,” said Livia. “And in this case, Gerda’s presence will be a distraction.”

“We can hide in the shed, then,” said Melaia.

“Too obvious.” Jarrod hesitated. “But we risk being seen if we cross the field to the woods.”

Livia pointed to the upturned wagon. They dashed to it and crawled underneath. There they crouched, peering through chinks in the sideboards and listening to Bram bark. Livia and Jarrod were soon as still as stone. Melaia tried to draw a sense of calm from Jarrod’s hand on her shoulder and Livia’s grasp on her arm, but when the back door of the house banged open, she startled.

Gerda scurried out, followed by Fein, the younger talonmaster. The etchings on his muscled arm squirmed as he shoved her along. Bram barked and nipped at Fein’s heels.

“I tell you,” said Gerda, “the girl isn’t here. Search the shed if you like, but you’ll find no one.”

“I’ll do that.” Fein kicked at Bram, who dodged and went to Gerda’s outstretched hand.

Trevin stepped out of the house with Vort, the leather-faced talonmaster, who held Gil’s dagger. “You taught me the birds,” said Trevin. “I mended the
wing of your best. You can believe me. I’ve been after the girl for a long time. Just because I traced her here before you did is no reason to take your wrath out on me.”

Vort tossed Gil’s dagger from one hand to the other as if weighing it. He seemed to be weighing Trevin’s story as well. Clangs and crashes came from where Fein searched in the shed. Bram barked.

“You saw me through the draks, no doubt.” Trevin chuckled. “From Qanreef?”

“From Redcliff,” said Vort. “Dwin had been askin’ about ye.”

Trevin frowned. “Is he all right?”

“Lord Rejius keeps him supplied with what he needs to stay servile.”

“Not gash, I hope.” Trevin rubbed his left hand over his right.

“Barley beer and wine are easier to come by.” Vort laughed. “Anyway, Lord Rejius sent us to Redcliff to see if ye’d cooled yer heels long enough.” Vort shook the tip of the dagger at Trevin. “Turns out, ye’re gone with the whole lot of ’em, and the jailer’s in one of his own cells. Zastra’s run as well.”

Trevin laughed. “No doubt Lord Rejius will say good riddance to that.”

Bram barked at Vort.

“Quiet yer dog, Gran, or we do it fer ye,” said Vort.

Gerda snapped at Bram. He sat as Vort and Trevin disappeared into the shed. Gerda wrung her apron, and Bram padded to the upturned wagon, where he began sniffing.

“Begone!” whispered Livia.

“That doesn’t work with Bram,” said Melaia.

“I’ll strangle him with my bare hands if he gives us away,” said Jarrod.

Gerda called to Bram, and he bounded to her as Trevin and the talonmasters came out of the shed. Fein held a coil of rope.

“Mayhap Gran knows more’n she’s lettin’ on,” said Vort. “Mayhap she needs help remembering. We’ll show ye how it’s done, Tree-vun boy.” He motioned to Fein. “That rope’ll go ’round Gran’s neck.”

The color drained from Gerda’s cheeks as she stepped back, her eyes wide. “You’d not dare hang an old woman.”

“Ye’re right there, Gran.” Vort held her while Fein slipped the rope around her neck.

Trevin leaned against a wagon wheel, an amused look on his face. Melaia couldn’t tell whose side he was on.

Bram snarled, and Fein kicked the dog in the ribs. With a whine Bram retreated a few paces but crouched, glaring.

“Ever run behind a horse, Gran?” Vort pulled the rope snug. “Let’s see how fast ye trot.” He nodded at Fein. “Bring us yer horse.”

Fein handed the end of the rope to Trevin and headed for the front yard and his horse. Trevin gave the rope a jerk, causing Gerda to stagger forward.

Melaia thumped her fist on her leg and whispered, “I can’t sit by and allow—”

Jarrod squeezed her shoulder and murmured, “Gerda is expendable. You are not.”

“Wait!” called Gerda. “I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you true. The girl was here, sure enough. She and a woman friend spent the night. But the girl got angry and left. I heard raiders nabbed her somewhere on Branch Road, east of Stillwater. The woman’s gone now too. I don’t know where. That’s the truth of it.”

“Raiders?” Vort snorted. “That’ll please the high lord. He’ll find her easy enough among the raiders.” He turned to Trevin. “Ye think Gran’s telling the truth?”

“She’s told you more than she told me.” Trevin toyed with the end of the rope.

Vort poked his finger at Gerda’s nose. “We’ll see about yer story, Gran. If ye’ve lied to us, we’ll be back in the night, and this place’ll be ashes.” He turned on his heel and punched Trevin in the stomach.

Melaia gasped. Livia’s grip on her tightened, as did Jarrod’s. Trevin fell to the ground, fighting for breath.

“That’s my mercy to ye, boy, and fair warnin’ to hie yerself west and stay there,” said Vort. “It’s better’n what ye’ll git if ye show yer face to Lord Rejius after fleein’ yer cell.”

Fein led his horse around the corner of the cottage, but Vort motioned him back. Within moments the talonmasters galloped toward the south road, and Bram snuffled under the edges of the wagon again.