Prince of Dogs
Page 191

She could only nod.
“Are you one of the children who escaped through the tunnel?”
“Yes, my lord,” said Matthias gamely, having a voice. Anna had lost hers. The black hounds panted, tongues lolling, so near to her that she expected them to suddenly bolt past their lord and tear her to pieces. But they made no movement, nor did they growl or bark. They simply sat, watching their lord with eyes the color of melted honey.
The young lord lifted the Circle from her chest and regarded it quizzically. “I once wore a Circle fashioned such as this, but I have it no longer.”
“What became of it?” asked Lord Wichman who, more restless than the hounds, had come up beside the young lord. He glanced incuriously at Anna; he did not recognize her as the girl he had chastised on that winter raid months ago.
The young lord’s mouth quirked into a smile as fleeting as Wichman’s attention. “I gave it to an Eika prince.” He let go of the Circle and Anna, gaping, staggered slightly as if having lost the touch of his hand she was no longer anchored to the earth.
To an Eika prince.
It could not be. She wanted to ask but dared not. She ought to ask but was afraid to.
The young lord had already looked past her to Matthias. “Lady Above,” he said softly. “You have some injury, I think?”
Matthias bobbed his head respectfully, fighting to balance himself on his crutch. “I was taken as a slave for a time among the Eika, my lord.” His voice was amazingly steady. “Lord Wichman freed me on one of his raids, my lord,” he added, knowing it wise to flatter as many lords as were within earshot.
“You took the wound then, among the Eika?” asked the young lord. He had dark eyes and an expressive face, filled now with pity as he laid a hand on Matthias’ filthy and matted hair. “Poor child. I wish you may have the healing you deserve.”
“I’m a man now!” retorted Matthias suddenly.
Anna winced.
Lord Wichman snorted and gave a stiff, sharp laugh.
But the young lord only nodded. “So you are, come young to it through hardship. What is your name, friend?”
This was too much even for Matthias, who lost his boldness. “M-m-matthias, my lord.”
“And this is your sister?” The lord took his hand from Matthias’ head and smiled at Anna.
“My sister, Anna. It’s short for Johanna, my lord, the blessed Daisan’s discipla.”
“So it is. How came you to remain here when we have heard from the mistress of this place that most of the refugees—the children—were sent south?”
“Our grandfather was too feeble to make the journey, so we stayed on here after the others left.”
“Then I pray Our Lord and Lady watch over you.”
Only after he moved on, did Anna begin to cry, her tears as silent as the slip of rain down a wall.
“Anna!” Matthias set a hand on her shoulder. “Anna! What is it? Did they scare you? The hounds were big, weren’t they, fierce-looking, but they’re nothing like the Eika dogs. You don’t need to cry.”
Struck dumb.
She opened her mouth to speak but could not form words or make them whole in the air. There was something she ought to have asked but had not asked, something she ought to have done but did not do, something she was meant to accomplish but had turned her gaze away from as the well-fed merchant turns her gaze away from a starving beggar, not wanting to see him.
“Anna!” Matthias clutched her shoulders, his weight sagging onto her as, frightened, he shook her. “Anna! What is it? Ai, Lady, it was the hounds, wasn’t it?” He pulled her tight against him in an embrace. The noble lords moved out of sight, heading back to the hall.
It wasn’t the hounds. But she could not speak words to tell him so.
Terrified now, he grabbed his stick and hobbled back to their hut with her in tow, but Helvidius and Helen were gone. “Anna! Say something to me!”
Unlike the Eagle last night, faced with a heartfelt plea, she had not spoken. She had not acted. Like a fish tossed from water to dirt, she could only thrash helplessly. She was bitterly ashamed, and scared—so scared.
“Lord protect us!” whispered Matthias. “I must take you to the herbwife. A devil has gotten into your throat and stolen your voice.”
She grabbed his hand and gripped it until he winced. She shook her head fiercely, so that he would understand. She had been struck dumb by God’s hand, not that of the Enemy or such of its minions as skittered through the world hoping to make mischief.
But Matthias had always been stubborn.