Hereward, who had been looking at the book in her lap, now raised her gaze to his. “Yes.
I reported to him. I organized all the meals in the palace, from what appeared on your breakfast platter to what the slaves scavenged in the stables, and supervised the kitchens.”
“An important role then. I must thank you.”
“If you must. I care not.”
Isaiah sighed. “Hereward. I can apologize again if you like. I am sorry that—”
“Oh for gods” sakes, Isaiah. You”re just uncomfortable talking to someone who is so far
beneath you. Leave it.”
Isaiah was sorely tempted to “just leave it,” but Hereward was by now becoming a
serious irritation.
“Not everyone has time to take every slave under their wing and offer them endless
kindness and compassion, Hereward.”
“I was not a slave!”
“My mistake.” No mistake at all. If she”d held such an important role within the palace
then she could never have been a slave, but, as irritated and apprehensive as he was, Isaiah
couldn”t resist taking the time to needle her.
They sat silently for some minutes, each careful not to look at the other, before Hereward
finally spoke.
“What is happening, Isaiah? Our world is destroyed—do you not owe me some
explanation?”
“Ancient demons and gods are risen, Hereward. I”m sorry, it is probably too much for
you to take in, so I”ll—”
“Oh, you are a true bastard, aren”t you! Everyone not of your own nobility is a dimwitted
ass whom you can safely either ignore or pity. None of you care one jot for anyone beneath
you!”
“That”s not true, Hereward. We—”
“Don”t lie to me. Tell me, did Ezekiel take his family north with him? With your
invasion?”
Isaiah was disorientated by the sudden question. “Ezekiel? Ah…yes, his three sons were
with the invasion and I believe his wife and daughters traveled with the convoy as well.”
“Not all his daughters, Isaiah.”
“Sorry?”
“I am Ezekiel”s daughter, got on a slave one drunken night…and left to die while those
born of a noble mother were taken north to revel in the glories and riches of victorious invasion.”
“By the gods, your well of bitterness is bottomless!”
Hereward”s jaw clenched and she looked away. “All I want to do is get away from you,”
she said. “All I want is to get to some kind of safety, and live some kind of life. If I can”t have
that, then all I want is to die. Damn it. Damn it! Take this book, Isaiah, and do with it what you want! Just let me go.”
She got to her feet and threw the book at Isaiah, who caught it awkwardly. “Let me go,”
she said again.
“It is not I keeping you here, Hereward.”
Hereward stared about at the distant circle of Skraelings. Eventually she lowered her face
into her hands and turned her back to Isaiah.
He sighed, and looked down the river.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
On the Road to Serpent’s Nest
My lord, Commander Insharah wishes to speak with you.” Maximilian paused with the
razor halfway down his cheek, looking up at Doyle.
The man had a somewhat cynical smile on his face.
“Send him in, Doyle. Thank you.”
As soon as Doyle had turned away, Maximilian looked back to the mirror, staring at his
reflection.
He was amazed Insharah had stayed as long as he had.
Insharah ducked inside the tent, and Maximilian resumed his careful shaving. “Yes?”
“My lord,” Insharah began, then stopped.
“Sit down, Insharah. There is no need to—”
“I would prefer to remain standing, my lord.”
Maximilian gave a slight shrug.
“I have been speaking with some of the men,” Insharah said. “There is trouble.”
“There is always trouble,” said Maximilian, putting the razor down and wiping his face
clean of soap with a towel. “Define this particular trouble, if you please.”
Insharah took a deep breath. “Many of the men are going to desert tonight, my lord. Tens
of thousands, but there may well be more.”
Maximilian quirked an eyebrow at him, but did not speak.
“They are so worried about their families,” said Insharah. “And about what is happening
back in Isembaard. We—”
“I know, Insharah,” Maximilian said.
“My lord,” Insharah said, “many of the men, myself included, have been having
nightmares. Dreams that are not true dreams, showing us our families in terrible plight—”
“They are dreams sent by a witch,” Maximilian said.
“They are reflections of our troubled consciences,” said Insharah.
“You want to join those leaving,” Maximilian said.
Insharah hesitated, then gave a terse nod. “I have a wife and children in Isembaard. At
Aqhat.” Again he paused. “Not everyone wants to leave, my lord,” Insharah said. “Many will
stay, and follow you to Elcho Falling.”
“Really? How many?”
“Perhaps ten thousand,” Insharah said, very quietly.
“Out of what? A quarter of a million?”
“I am sorry, my lord. I don”t know what I can say to—”
“You don”t need to make me feel better, Insharah.” Maximilian paused, thinking, the
fingers of one hand tapping on the top of his shaving table. “Insharah, move among the army and
tell the men that whoever wants to is free to leave to follow his conscience. They can take what
stores they need—I ask only that you leave enough stores and spare horses for myself and my
party, my Emerald Guard, and whoever decides to remain with me. I ask also that you respect the
land and the peoples you move through once you do leave. The Outlanders have done you no
wrong, and I would not have you wrong them.”
“You are just going to let us go?” said Insharah. “Just like that?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Maximilian”s forces abandon him,” Ravenna said. “What is he doing, to so let them
go?”
She sat with Lister and Vorstus in the tent they used. It was small, but it had a good
brazier, and they all sat about it, staring into its warmth.
“Ishbel is the canker,” Ravenna said.
Lister tipped his head as if agreeing, but he wasn”t ready to heap all the blame on Ishbel”s
head. He thought Maximilian deserved to shoulder a fair weight of it, too.
What was the man doing to allow the majority of his army to defect? Did he not know
that sooner or later an army of horror was going to seethe up from the south?
“What should we do?” Ravenna said.
“Watch,” said Lister, “and wait. Yes, yes, I know you want to act, but I would prefer to
hear news of Isaiah and what awaits us from the south first.”
Ravenna looked between Vorstus and Lister. “How much faith do you have remaining in
Maximilian?”
“Not a great deal,” Vorstus said. “We think that Ishbel may have been a vast error on our
part.”
Then, as one, both Lister and Vorstus looked at Ravenna.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Isembaard
Isaiah sat and watched Hereward sleeping. She was deeply asleep, her entire body
relaxed, her mouth slightly open, her face so tranquil Isaiah thought it almost looked pretty.
The book lay at her side.
Isaiah looked at it for a very long time before he leaned over and gently slid it away from
her.
He more than thought Hereward would have sprung awake as he took the book, but she
slept on, and Isaiah settled himself with the book in his lap.
They”d lit a small fire earlier, and it still flickered enough that he could read the list of
chapters.
They were all the same.
What the river god needed to do to save the land.
Isaiah sat with his eyes on the book for some time, then he raised his face to look around.
There must be, he thought, a hundred thousand Skraelings encircling them now. They
were hunkered down on the ground, their silvery eyes noting his and Hereward”s every
movement, their tongues lolling from their mouths. From time to time one of them would
whisper, or whine, but they made no move in their direction.
Isaiah looked to the south. He could feel the One moving closer. He would arrive within
the day, and Isaiah felt his stomach turn over with the nausea of fear.
What did the One want? To kill him? To chat?
Even if Isaiah had wanted to, there was no escape.
He returned his attention to the book, and turned the page to the first (and only) story:
What the river god needed to do to save the land.
It was not very long, and Isaiah read it in only a few minutes.
He closed the book, his face expressionless, his thoughts in turmoil.
Finally, after almost an hour of sitting completely still, he slid a finger under the cover,
opening a very slight gap into the pages, then he whispered a phrase in a strange guttural
language.
For a moment, nothing. Then there was a movement among the black braids that hung
about his shoulders, and a small green frog crept down his arm, hesitated on his hand, then