Preciosa!” she cried, and as the hawk’s talons closed, gently, on her arm, she remembered everything, and began to cry.
“Oh, Preciosa, you came for me!”
She washed in a stream, that night, and shook the leaf-mold and dirt from her cloak. She took off her tunic and trousers, and shook them out to air, and put them on again. She had lost, somewhere, her Swordswoman’s earring – she never knew where. With the hawk riding on her shoulder, she tried to orient herself.
She supposed the white Tower nearby must be Neskaya, but she was not certain. A day’s walk should bring her there, and perhaps she could send a message somewhere, and know what had befallen Carolin, and what the armies did. She still flinched from the thought of joining them again, but she knew someday she must return to her own kind.
Late that night, as she was looking for a dry place to sleep, and wondering how she had managed all these days alone – she thought she must have been in the woods all of three days, perhaps – it seemed that she heard someone calling her name.
Romilly! Romilly!
Search for her with laran, only so we can find her, she is hiding…
She cannot be dead. I would know if she was dead….
She recognized, vaguely, some of the voices, though it was still not clear.
If you can find her, bid her come back to us. This was a voice she knew, a voice she loved; Jandria, mourning. And although she had never done it before, somehow Romilly knew how to reach out with her mind.
Where are you? What has happened? I thought the war Was over.
It is ended, and Carolin is encamped before the walls of Hali, came the answer. But it is stalemate, for Lyondri has Orain as hostage somewhere within the city.
And Romilly did not even stop to remember her grudge, or what it had been.
I will come as swiftly as I can.
CHAPTER NINE
She slept only a little that night, and was awake and walking by daylight, sending out her laran to spy out a dwelling of men. Once in the village she sought out a man who had horses for hire.
“I must have a fast horse at once. I am of the Sisterhood of the Sword, and I am on an urgent mission for King Carolin; I am needed at once at Hali.”
“And I am His Majesty’s chief cook and bottle-washer,” jeered the stableman. “Not so fast, mestra; what will you pay?” And Romilly saw herself reflected in his eyes, a gaunt scarecrow of a woman in a tattered tunic and breeches, barefoot, her face savagely clawed and bleeding where the mountain-cat had swiped at her, the unkempt hawk riding on her shoulders.
“I have been through the war and worse,” she said. She had dwelt among animals so long she had forgotten the need of money. She searched the deep pockets of tunic and breeches and found a few coins forgotten; she spilled them out before him.
“Take these as earnest,” she said, not counting them, “I swear I will send the rest when I reach a hostel of the Sisterhood, and twice as many if you will find me a pair of boots and some food.”
He hesitated. “I will need thirty silver bits or a copper royal,” he said, “and another as token that you win return the horse here-”
Her eyes glittered with rage. She did not even know why she was in such need of haste, but she was sought for at Hali. “In Carolin’s name,” she said, “I can take your horse if I must-”
She signalled to the nearest horse; he looked fast, a great rangy roan. A touch of her laran and he came swiftly to her, bowed his neck in submission. His owner shouted with anger and came to lay his hand on the horse’s lead-rope, but the horse edged nervously away, and lashed out, kicking; circled, and came back to rub Romilly’s head with his shoulder.
“Leronis…” he whispered, his eyes widened, staring.
“That and more,” said Romilly tartly.
A young woman stood watching, twisting her long apron. At last she whispered, “My mother’s sister is of the Sisterhood, mestra. She has told me that the Sisterhood will always pay debts incurred by one of them, for the honor of them all. Let her have the horse, my husband, and-” she ran into the house, brought back a pair of rough boots.