Willing sacrifice, p.13
Willing Sacrifice, page 13
He turned around to face the others as Aya finally was able to wriggle past enough of them to get a look inside.
“Is she okay?”
“She’s fine, little one. It was just a bad nightmare.” He picked her up then looked at the others. “The rest of you go on back to bed.” He shooed them out of his way.
Bentel stood up. “I have some wine in one of the other wagons. Let me get you some to drink.” She eyed Dal, who had yet to head for the door. “You’ll stay with her?”
“Yes.” He never took his eyes off La’tiera.
Bentel nodded, satisfied, then left. Dal sat down on the vacated bed, moving his loose hair back over his shoulder. La’tiera said nothing, but was grateful for his presence.
“Was it very bad?” He asked the question very quietly.
She didn’t answer him.
“With the time so close at hand, it must have been very vivid.”
“How do you…?”
“Know? The Order keeps records of each of the Bearers. I read a number of them during my training.”
She glanced at him in surprise. He’d read accounts of others like her? But she’d been told…
Lies, all he said must be lies—only another scheme to get her to do what they wanted. She turned her face away.
His quiet voice reached for her again from across the wagon. “We were taught that the visions are part of the cycle, part of the covenant the Gods made with the demons. It’s a way for the demons to put fear into the Bearer, so he or she won’t resist them when the time comes—to speak to the Bearer’s inner demon, to entice them with the power that is theirs to command and which they might share if the Bearer doesn’t interfere.”
How could he know these things?
“You need to stay strong, La’tiera.”
“I am strong,” she replied hotly. “These horrors only serve to shore up my resolve, not weaken it. I will die when the time comes.”
“No!”
His protest brought her up short.
“That’s what they want. That’s how they win. If you don’t fight to live, if you’re paralyzed with fear or give yourself willingly to them, the gate will remain open and the world will be theirs. Then all your nightmares will be reality.”
“No. You’re wrong.” How many times would they have to go over this foolishness? “Whether you take me back where I belong or not, when the time comes I will do what’s right.”
Suddenly, he was there, right beside her. So close she could feel the heat radiating from his body. Here in the darkness, alone, it felt intimate in a way it hadn’t during their dancing. She didn’t understand what she was feeling as her heart beat loudly.
“You’re meant to live, not die. The Gods are not that cruel. I’ve seen it.” His voice was low, his face almost touching hers, as if by sheer proximity he could get her to accept his point.
Before she could ask him what he meant by his last remark, they were no longer alone.
“Sorry I took so long.”
As Bentel’s voice rang out from the doorway, Dal moved away as if he’d never been there. The other woman gave no indication she’d noticed anything amiss.
“Here, drink this. It’ll help.” She sat on the edge of La’tiera’s bed and handed her a small cup.
La’tiera took it then hesitated as she saw the dark liquid, her mind telling her it would taste like blood—a faint echo of her dream still nibbling at the edges of her consciousness. The moment the slightly sour flavor hit her tongue, however, she sighed and drank the wine down eagerly.
“I’m going back outside.” Dal left on silent feet, closing the door softly behind him.
La’tiera tried to forget the things he’d done and said, instead concentrating on the warm sensation the wine brought to her as it slid down her throat.
Bentel’s gentle fingers moved a few stray strands of hair away from La’tiera’s face. “Did that help a little?”
“A little,” she conceded. She gave the woman back the empty cup.
“Good.” It sounded like she meant it. “Try to get some rest, then. I’ll be right across from you if you need anything.”
Though it was dark inside the wagon again, deeper darkness outlined the other woman. As she relaxed from the wine, the knowledge she was not alone made her become more so.
“Thank you.”
CHAPTER 19
She was going to drive him mad! Dal paced back and forth on the grass, the scent of the tramped blades rising around him, too worked up to go back to sleep again. A cool breeze swept between the wagons, making him reach for his discarded blanket and drape it over his shoulders.
Had there ever been anyone so determined to throw their life away? She was so unbelievably stubborn! Normally, he was sure it would be considered a great trait for a Bearer, but in this instance it might just get them all killed. He had to find a way to convince her they were right. She was stubborn to the point of blindness. But there must be a way!
He sent a frustrated glance at the closed wagon door and paced faster back and forth.
At least the Eye seemed to be awakening. Whatever the viscount had done to it was thankfully not permanent. But would she pay attention to anything it tried to show her? Would she be able to learn how to use its powers to help her see the truth?
He forced himself to a stop and shook his shoulders, trying to loosen his coiled and aching muscles. There had to be a way to make her see. The Eye must make her see.
CHAPTER 20
La’tiera woke to the soft singing of birds and bright sunshine pouring in through the wagon’s windows. She felt rested, which surprised her. Thinking about the dancing the night before made her feel better.
Lalu sat on the other bed doing some stitching.
“Good morning. Sleep well?” Her moving hands never slowed, the needle going in and out.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Breakfast is over there on the table.” Lalu inclined her head toward a built-in set of drawers.
La’tiera sat up slowly, her nose curling slightly as she smelled fear-tainted sweat on her nightclothes. “Will I be able to bathe?”
The old woman grinned. “I guess that depends on your definition of bathing.”
La’tiera stared at her, not understanding.
Lalu set her stitching aside and got up. From drawers opposite the set holding her breakfast, she lifted the top and revealed a hidden washbasin with water and several folded cloths.
“I’m afraid that while we’re traveling, this is the best we can do.” She returned to the bed and gathered up her things. “There are drying cloths in the drawer beneath that one. If you’ll bring the cloths and your shift outside once you’re done we’ll make sure they get washed.”
La’tiera waited until she was gone before leaving the bed and approaching the water-filled bowl. This was how they bathed? She stared skeptically at the minuscule amount of water as she compared it to the huge bath she normally used. There was no way she’d be able to clean her hair. Not with this. How could they stand it?
Deciding to use what she had, if she wanted any kind of bath at all, she removed her shift and stepped closer to the basin. It was then she noticed the simple mirror attached to the lid of the compartment. She could see herself in its reflection, but the image was not as clear as in the one she had at home.
She checked the birthmark of the Eye on her chest, remembering the green light she had seen when she’d wakened from her vision. She ran her fingers over it, and frowned—the area felt different from before. It was almost as if she’d developed a bump there, but though she studied it in the mirror, she could see no difference. Was it changing?
Shaking her head, she stopped trying to see it and picked up one of the cloths. Though she glanced around she saw no oils or creams. The cloth felt coarse against her skin. She didn’t much like it.
After cleaning herself as best she could and putting on the clothes she found folded at the end of the bed, she ate breakfast. She wasn’t excited by the simple fare but ate it all. She noticed the shirt, like her own clothes, was cut close to the neck to keep the Eye hidden.
Cleaned, full and dressed, she figured she was as ready as she would ever be to face the world. So, gathering her dirty things, she opened the door to the wagon and stepped outside. She found Lalu sitting on the tailgate’s edge waiting for her.
“Ah, there you are. I was starting to wonder if you’d decided to spend the day indoors.”
La’tiera decided to ignore the comment. “Where did you want me to put these?”
The old woman chuckled. “Over there where Tersa is working.”
Glancing in the direction she pointed, La’tiera spotted the dancer by a large shallow tub. Kyr stood beside her, emptying a bucket of water into it. Hair in a ragged bun and sleeves pushed back to the shoulders, she was rubbing something up and down on a board partially sticking in the water. Behind her, between two trees, lines were strung up, and articles of clothing hung from them, dripping onto the grass.
La’tiera approached, watching what Tersa was doing with growing curiosity. Mela had always taken her clothes away each day and brought them back smelling clean and fresh, but she’d never had any idea how they got that way.
“Lalu said I should bring these to you?”
Tersa gave the bundle an ugly look. “Just set them there, please.”
She did as directed.
“Do you have any experience with laundry, by any chance?” Tersa asked.
“No, I’m afraid I haven’t.” She wasn’t about to admit she’d never seen it done before.
Tersa let go of the garment she’d been working on and shook the soapy water off her fingers. “Here, let me see your hands.”
Not sure why, La’tiera put them forward for inspection. Tersa turned them over and looked at her palms and fingers. Like Dal’s, Tersa’s hands were calloused and rough. At the moment, they also looked red and chapped. In comparison, hers were smooth and white, except for where she held her brushes and charcoals.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Is it bad?”
Tersa grinned. “No, it just means I can’t rope you into doing this for me. These hands are too pretty to ruin.”
La’tiera felt embarrassed by the statement, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. “I–I’m not allowed to do any work.”
Tersa laughed. “Not allowed? Wouldn’t that be grand!” The dancer’s eyes were bright as she tucked an errant curl behind her ear. “Off with you, then, before I’m tempted to have you do something forbidden.” Still laughing, she returned to her work.
La’tiera walked away not totally understanding what was so amusing. Kyr sheepishly nodded at her as he came by with another bucket of water. Rostocha and Mishal both greeted her as well from the table where they looked to be repairing one of the drums.
A flurry of giggles from the other side of the wagon tugged at her attention. Turning that way, she felt Lalu’s eyes following her wherever she went.
Aya and Dal were practicing some simple acrobatics, a group of six young children watching closely, trying to emulate them. They were having a great time laughing at one another as they tried to match the players. She noticed Dal kept most of his movements slow, giving the children plenty of time to see how he was doing things. She could see his muscles straining with effort as he laughed along with them. Aya, however, had no mercy on them, doing all her tricks as fast as possible.
La’tiera drifted a little closer, using a tree as partial cover, not wanting to intrude. She now had the opportunity to study the children a little closer, unlike the day before. Like Aya, they all seemed to be smaller versions of adults, their faces rounder, softer than the grownups’. These would be the adults of the future, the ones to whom her sacrifice would mean the most. She smiled watching them—their dirty faces, their laughter, their smiles, the endless energy. Had she been that way at their age?
Her gaze slipped over to Dal. She wondered what he’d been like as a child. He looked so comfortable with them, enjoying himself as much as they were. He seemed so open this way, so carefree, more like when they’d first met than the serious man he became once he learned she would be giving her life away. How could they be the same person?
“Is he yours?”
She jumped at the voice behind her. Turning around, she found a young woman, her face and arms tanned from being outdoors, a filled bucket of oats in her arms.
“Mine?”
“Sure, the black-haired handsome one. It’s a straightforward enough question, isn’t it?”
La’tiera stared at her bland face. “Ah, I’m sorry. But I really don’t understand what you’re asking.”
The girl raised an irritated brow. “Are you paired with him or is he a free man?”
“P–Paired?” La’tiera’s eyes grew wide. The woman thought that she and Dal…?
“You’re a pretty thing but kind of slow, aren’t you.” She shifted the bucket to her opposite hip.
La’tiera blushed. “No, he’s not mine. Not anyone’s, as far as I know.”
“Even though he only danced with you?” A crooked smile lit her face. “Well, that’s very interesting.” With her free hand, she reached up behind her and loosened her brown hair so it would fall freely to her shoulders. “Tell me, how long is the troupe planning to stay here?”
“A day or two, I believe. I don’t really know.”
“You wouldn’t, would you. But a few days—this is getting better and better. With the Trial coming, we must do what we can.”
La’tiera didn’t like her tone. It occurred to her that perhaps this person planned on trying to make Dal hers in some way. She wasn’t sure she liked that but couldn’t say why.
“By the way, what do you do for the troupe?”
She felt her throat go dry. What should she say? Then, she realized she could tell the truth—this girl might be able to help her. From her actions so far, she somewhat doubted she’d believe her, but the tale might still get back to the head of the village and then somehow back to her uncle. She at least had to try.
“Actually, I—”
“She’s an artist.”
La’tiera glanced guiltily back over her shoulder at Dal’s unexpected intrusion.
“Is that right?” The village girl smiled at him, her eyes brightening. All that because of him?
“Painter’s Guild asked us to see her safely to Sais to fill a position there. In exchange, she’ll help us figure out some decorations for our wagons and do sketches we can sell as well.”
La’tiera shivered as he placed an easy hand on her shoulder. How could he lie so easily? It sounded like the truth.
The girl gave her an unhappy look. “Is she any good?”
“Come back later, and she’ll draw your picture for you. My treat.”
The smile came back on full force. “Really?”
“It would be my pleasure.”
La’tiera could hear the returned smile in his voice. She liked it no better than the girl’s.
“Shierla!”
The girl glanced to the right. “I’ve got to go. But I’ll make sure to come by after my chores are done. Maybe tonight you might save a dance for me.” She gave him a half-curtsey, made awkward by the bucket she was holding, her eyes never leaving his. “See you soon.”
“Until then.”
La’tiera stared unhappily at the ground, having missed out on a chance to get help but also bothered by what seemed to have gone on among the three of them.
Dal’s hand left her shoulder. “That was close.”
She turned around to face him. “How could you lie to her like that?” She felt her face grow hot remembering other falsehoods he’d told. Those had come easily as well.
Dal frowned. “Lie to her like what? You’re an artist, and we are keeping you safe while escorting you to another city, though admittedly not Sais. It would prove hard to protect you if we went along telling everyone the truth whenever they asked.”
It didn’t make her feel any better. “But what about the rest of it? She now expects me to do a drawing of her, but I have nothing to work with. How will your lie help you then?”
“Oh, that’s not a problem.” He grinned. “Come on.” Grabbing her hand, he set off toward the farthest of the wagons.
As he dragged her along, La’tiera was hard-pressed to keep up. Gasping for breath, she waited outside as he ran into the wagon. Moments later, he reappeared carrying a small bundle.
“After I found out how much you liked to draw, I picked these up in town. I hope they’ll do.” He extended the package toward her. “I would have given it to you sooner, but I hadn’t found a good time.”
Staring at his excited face in surprise, she took the wrapped bundle and peeked at the contents. Inside were a small nondescript box and a leather satchel. In the box she found ten charcoal sticks and in the satchel a short stack of thick paper.
“I don’t understand. Why would you do this?” She looked up at him, her heart beating faster, confusion washing over her. He had betrayed her, and now he gave her gifts?
She saw his cheeks redden before he looked away. “I just thought you would enjoy them. It’s a sort of apology for the rough way I knew we were going to have to take you away from there.”
La’tiera stiffened at the words, but seeing his truly earnest expression didn’t have the heart to spoil it by saying what she thought. Nothing he did would ever make up for the fact he’d ripped her away from her home, though with this, he did bring back something truly important to her.
“Thank you.” She decided not to meet his gaze.
“We truly only want to help you.”
She said nothing, knowing it wouldn’t do any good.
“La’tiera! La’tiera!” Aya ran up to her. “Gire and Lessy are going to show me around. They said there’re lots of animals here. You have to come, too. It will be really fun!” She grabbed onto her arm as if her answer had already been delivered.
