who would hurry Faraday north faster than Gautier.
Gautier swung down from his horse, holding tightly to its reins as men surged past on
their way to their overnight billets. Despite the cold he was wearing only his regulation brown
leather uniform, his short cropped blond head bare to the wind. Light grey eyes in a sharp and
narrow face made Gautier look constantly secretive, yet he was a man that few trusted with their
own secrets. ―Timozel! I‘d heard you were dead! Word reached Carlon that you…oh, Artor!‖
Gautier had finally caught sight of Faraday. ―My lady!‖ he breathed, surprise softening
his features somewhat. ―How…what…who?‖
Faraday forced a light laugh. She did not particularly like Gautier. She looked at Timozel,
her eyes pleading with him silently to let her do the talking. ―Timozel saved myself and my maid
from the earthfall. We struggled free, and have been working our way north ever since. Hence
our clothes,‖ she grimaced, fingering her dress. ―We had to purchase our dresses from a peasant
woman. Ah, Gautier,‖ and here goes my story on its first real test, she thought to herself, ―after
escaping death so narrowly I could not bear the thought of being separated from Borneheld any
longer. I pleaded with Timozel to escort me north, instead of back to Carlon or Skarabost.‖ She
shrugged prettily, flirting with Gautier, playing to the admiration in his eyes. ―Surely you can
understand that I wanted to be with my intended husband? Perhaps you can help?‖
It took only a moment for Gautier to recognise the possibilities. He imagined himself
striding into the audience chamber of Gorkenfort, Faraday behind him, and taking all the credit
for finding her and bringing her to Borneheld. His eyes flickered behind Faraday to her pretty
maid, and further opportunities filled his mind. Why! The wench was panting for him! She‘d be
far hotter sport than the tired old crones who plied their trade in Jervois Landing.
Faraday watched the drift of Gautier‘s eyes and hoped that Yr wasn‘t playing the lustful
wench too heartily. ―We would all be very grateful should you be able to find us beds for the
night. And I‘m sure Borneheld would appreciate it too.‖
―Done!‖ Gautier grinned. ―My Lady? With your leave?‖ He thrust the reins of his horse
at Timozel who took them with studied bad grace.
Faraday accepted Gautier‘s proffered arm and he led her along the street, shouting for the
crowds to make way, Timozel and Yr hurrying along behind as best they could with the mule
and Gautier‘s horse. At least they were going to have rooms for the night and a decent bed, Yr
thought to herself, although she wondered if she might still have to work a little for her share of
the warmth. For a moment she had thought Gautier was going to wrestle her to the muddy street
and take her there. Yr‘s lips parted in a smile. And perhaps she would not have minded. Well,
she thought, as she hurried to keep pace with Faraday and Gautier, it was the least she could do
to make sure that Faraday arrived in Borneheld‘s bed as quickly as possible.
Gautier led them to an inn called the Tired Seagull and, with only a minimum of shouting
and fuss, arranged three rooms for them. The previous incumbents, at first disposed to complain
about their eviction, were silenced by Gautier‘s threats and maids moved in quickly to change
linen and remove the luggage of the previous occupants. Faraday forced a smile to her face
again.
―Lieutenant Gautier. We have been travelling in these clothes for close on four weeks. Do
you think you could manage to persuade the innkeeper to find us something else to wear? And
perhaps a seamstress for the morning? I cannot appear before Borneheld like this.‖
―My Lady,‖ Gautier bent over her hand. If she was going to marry Borneheld, then she
was almost as important to impress as the Duke himself. ―I will have clothes and water brought
to your rooms immediately. Perhaps you would do me the pleasure of joining me below in the
private dining-room once you have rested?‖
Faraday dimpled prettily. ―It would be my pleasure, Gautier. I shall not hesitate to inform
Borneheld that you have been so helpful.‖
Much later that night Yr helped unlace Faraday from the yellow silk gown that Gautier
had somehow found for her. He had not stinted in his efforts to find them clothes for that evening
and a bevy of seamstresses for the morning. Faraday would leave in two days‘ time with
virtually a complete wardrobe. It was fortunate that Jervois Landing was such a major trading
post—once the merchants in residence heard that Duke Borneheld‘s betrothed was staying at the
Tired Seagull, bolts of silks, satins and velvets started to arrive by the cartload, all with the
assurance that the trifling details of payment could wait until the Lady Faraday had completed
her nuptials.
Faraday breathed a sigh of relief as Yr removed the last lace. Although the worsted
peasant dress had been of rough material, its loose cut had made wearing it extremely
comfortable. Faraday had almost forgotten the restrictions of high-fashion gowns.
―You do very well as a maid, Yr,‖ she smiled as she slipped the silk off her shoulders.
―It would not be my chosen profession, Faraday. Here, don‘t throw the gown on the floor
like that. Let me drape it over a chair.‖
Faraday unpinned her hair. The meal with Gautier had been reasonably pleasant. He was
determined to please her, and even Timozel accepted his attentions as those due to Faraday as
Borneheld‘s intended wife. She shivered in her thin linen shift. They were leaving within the
next two days. Gautier had said that at the most they would take ten days to ride to Gorkenfort.
The route was well-marked and well-provisioned. Within two weeks she could be Borneheld‘s
wife.
―Shush, sweet one, sit on the bed and I will brush your hair out for you. Don‘t fret, I will
not leave you.‖
For some time Faraday closed her eyes and surrendered herself to the soothing feel of Yr
stroking the brush through her hair. ―Yr?‖ she said, after a while.
―Hmm?‖
―Yr, I want to try to reach the Sacred Grove tonight. Will you help me?‖
Yr‘s hands stilled in Faraday‘s hair. ―Are you sure, my sweet?‖
Faraday twisted around to look at Yr. ―Yr, I have almost lost the feel of the Mother. If I
don‘t try tonight I‘m afraid that I‘ll lose Her altogether.‖
Yr gently kissed Faraday‘s brow. ―Never that, my sweet. The Mother will stay with you
always. You must simply train yourself in the arts of reaching Her.‖
Faraday stood up and rummaged through her pack until she found the wooden bowl the
Horned Ones had given her. ―Yr, do you know how to use this?‖
Yr nodded, putting the brush aside. ―I have some idea. Come, we will need some water.‖
Yr put the bowl on a small table and told Faraday to fill it almost to the brim with water
from a china pitcher.
―Now, the Mother always demands blood, a small sacrifice to show that you are prepared
to give of yourself to be with Her. Here,‖ Yr handed Faraday a small knife.
Faraday stared at Yr a moment, then nodded. The idea of blood felt right. She carefully
pushed the tip of the blade into her thumb until she saw bright blood welling, then she put the
knife down by the bowl.
―I think you will know what to do from here, Faraday,‖ Yr said gently, stepping back.
For a long moment Faraday stared at the blood welling on her thumb, her chestnut hair
tumbling over her shoulders and down her back. She remembered that Raum had said that the
Mother demanded they meet her as naked as the day they were born, so Faraday quickly
shrugged out of her linen shift, careful not to disturb the bright drop of blood on her thumb, and
kicked the shift across the floor well out of the way. Then she slowly extended her hand over the
bowl of water.
―May this blood serve to renew my bond with the Mother,‖ she said clearly. ―May it
serve to remind me of my pledge of faith and service to the Mother, and may it serve to bring me
closer to the Mother.‖
She tilted her hand and the drop of red blood rolled off the ball of her thumb. ―Mother,
with this my blood may you wake for me tonight,‖ she said, and the blood spattered across the
surface of the water. Instantly the water in the bowl flared bright emerald and Faraday gasped.
Strength and power flowed through her and she closed her eyes and leaned her head back,
revelling in the feel of the Mother‘s touch.
―Mother!‖ she whispered, closing her mind to everything but the surge of power through