Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
She then insists that I go to her dresser and take a skirt and jacket, as well as some blouses and clean underthings, and put it all in a traveling saddle pack. When she tries to give me shoes, I draw the line.
“Lena, you must stop.” I cover my face with my palms because my eyes are getting misty. “It’s too much—”
“You have nothing, don’t you.” Her voice grows soft. “You have lost all that you had.”
“But that’s not your fault.”
“It will be if I do not give some of what I have to you now.”
I shake my head. “No, you need these things—”
“Sister, remember? And what sister would I be if I let you leave with no change of clothes.” She motions impatiently to a freestanding wardrobe. “Now go in there. Go on—Sorrel, if you do not open those doors, I shall be forced to get up and do so myself.”
Turning toward the gracefully carved wooden expanse, I pull the latch on one side of the double doors—
“No.” I glance over my shoulder at her. “We’re not taking any of Ronl’s suits.”
“Oh, I know better than to suggest that husband of yours wear anything but the leather that protects him. No, it’s up on the shelf, there. In the back. Sorrel, let us not argue.”
Capitulating, I rise onto my toes, and stretch my good arm as far as it will go.
“It’s in a sealed fold.” Lena nods. “A little farther—you can get it.”
My fingertips make contact with something soft and square, and I pull out a stitched bag that makes an odd chiming sound as I take it down.
“Put that in the bag.” Lena nods impatiently. “And yes, you must keep it for a special occasion. Some night, when you want that husband of yours to bow at your feet, you will put it on.”
“That’s really not going to happen,” I mutter.
“I’ve been saving it for a festival, but Ronl and I have already served its purpose.” She looks lovingly at her daughter. “Besides, I think it’s perfect for you. Now put the herbs for your arm in there, tie the top, and let us say goodbye—”
Her voice catches at the end and she clears her throat. “Forgive me, I am a little emotional these days.”
After I do what she says, she puts her hand out to me, and as I lay my palm in hers, I sit down on the bed.
“Thank you,” she says after a minute. “For not lying to me.”
“About what?”
“That you might be coming back.”
We embrace, and as I hold on to her, I look over her shoulder at the gray wall. I can’t bear my thoughts, but closing my eyes would just add terrible pictures to all my fears. So I stare at the grain of the wood and pray to nothing I believe in that she and Ronl and their daughter will be spared.
“If I ever do come back,” I say, “I will repay you somehow.”
She shakes her head. “You will always be a part of our family, no matter where you are—and in my culture, there are no debts between those of blood.”
I wipe my eyes. “I’m unused to being claimed.”
“It was meant to be, then.”
When I stand up to go, I know I’ll remember her sad smile and her beautiful baby for as long as I live.
“Goodbye, sister,” I whisper before I leave.
Sixty-One
Lavante.
As I walk out from behind the register of cash and wind my way through the wives, Ronl pushes his glasses back into place and gives me a wave—but then loses his smile as he sees the saddlebag I’m taking with me. At the door, I lift a hand to him, and after a moment, he does the same. He seems very grave, no doubt because he’s thinking about the very same thing his wife told me about.
Demons have come to the Badlands. So now is not the best time for anybody to leave.
Outside, I take a moment to enjoy the sun, and then walk back down to the stables. As I arrive, I look out to the realm tree. The chestnut gelding has been covered by a lovely white drape with a pattern on it, and I watch the other horses nibbling at the grasses, drinking from the stream, and standing together in a herd—
“He’s all ready for you, mistress.”
“I’m sorry?” I murmur absently. Then I turn around.
And don’t know what else to say.
The magnificent golden horse with the white mane and tail is saddled with the gelding’s saddle, but not the bridle, no doubt because of the size difference.
I immediately shake my head. “I cannot take this horse—”
The girl keeps her voice low. “I know what you did. Last night.”
Going absolutely still, I say levelly, “I beg your pardon.”
“The cook never left the pub kitchen. Ever. Not for an errand, not for a wander, not even for a breath of fresh air. Except for last night, when your husband came down and the two of them talked.”