The Gathering Storm
Page 30

“The White Stallion, the pura, is also a sacrifice, for the well being of the tribe. Be careful that the Kerayit women do not demand you for a pura, Sanglant, in exchange for their help to defeat your western sorcerers. Because there will be a price. The Kerayit and their masters make no bargain without exacting a steep price in return.”
4
“I’M afraid to go to sleep.” Hathui clutched Zacharias’ hand as they sat together on the lip of the stone water trough set in the broad courtyard in front of the stables. “When I wake up, you might not be here any more.”
“I’ll be here.” He wanted to weep. How could he be so happy, reunited with his beloved sister, and yet so terrified? “I won’t be going anywhere.”
“I’m sorry I thought you were dead,” she replied, lips curving in an ironic smile. The moon had finally risen, chasing scattered clouds, and because he knew her expressions so well he could interpret them although there wasn’t really enough light to see her clearly. “Not very faithful of me.”
“Nay, do not say so. You couldn’t have known.”
Her hand tightened on his as she stared across the silent courtyard. A spear’s throw away, two guards walked the ramparts. Their figures paused beside a torch set in a tripod above the gate; the flickering firelight glimmered on their helmets. “Zacharias, can I trust him? Is he worth giving my loyalty to, until the king is restored?”
“What other choice do you have, except to return to Aosta?”
“I can go to Princess Theophanu. That’s what Hanna said I should do. Had I done it last summer, when I met Hanna, we might be in Aosta with an army by now.”
He shuffled his feet in the dirt, blotting the lines where a servant had raked away manure and litter earlier that evening. The smell of horse lay heavily over them. Nearby a dog barked, then fell silent when a man scolded it. He saw the dog suddenly, a dark shape scrambling along the rampart in the company of a guard, its leash pulled taut. Choking him.
He rubbed his throat as the nasty whispers surfaced in his mind. She would hate him when she found out the truth. She would despise him, which would be worse. It was bad enough being a coward, but he could not bear it if she turned away from him with contempt.
“Yet who else?” she asked, unaware of his silence, his struggle, his agony. “Who else can save Henry? Who can fight Hugh of Austra, and Holy Mother Anne? Princess Sapientia is like a lapdog, suffered to eat and bark but kept on a chain. She cannot lead this army. Yet what can Princess Theophanu do against Hugh of Austra’s sorcery? She fell under his spell once before. She might do so again.”
He did not need to answer, simply to listen as she worked her way through her own argument. She wasn’t really asking for his advice; she was trying to convince herself because she was desperate.
“Sister Rosvita told me to come here. She must have known the prince’s worth. She must have had a reason. She has served the king loyally, and wisely. What else do I have to go on?”
“You’d better sleep. The path will show more clearly in the morning.” Up on the ramparts, the guard dog growled. A person emerged from the stable carrying a candle; its light splashed shadows around them. Without turning, he knew who had come to look for her.
“Hathui? You’d best sleep.” Wolfhere sounded concerned, even affectionate. All those humiliating years while Zacharias had lived as a slave among the Quman, Wolfhere had trained and ridden with Hathui, her mentor among the Eagles. She respected Wolfhere; she’d said so herself, as they’d eaten in the soldiers’ barracks after being dismissed from the prince’s chamber.
She would never respect her own dear brother, not once she knew the truth.
She let go of Zacharias’ hand. “True enough, old man. So many times in the past months I despaired of finding Prince Sanglant. Yet now that I’m here, my path seems just as troubled. Where will it end? Have you an answer?”
“You say it was Sister Rosvita who sent you to find my lord prince,” the old Eagle answered. “She is a wise woman, and a faithful counselor to King Henry. Stay with us, Hathui. That is the only way to save Henry.”
She grunted, half a chuckle, rising to her feet with a grimace. “Spoken by the man whom King Henry put under ban. You’ve never liked him.”
“Nay. I’ve never disliked him. It is Henry who did not trust me.”
“Wisely,” muttered Zacharias, but neither heard him. Hathui had already begun moving away, pausing when she realized he wasn’t following her.