It was Kaylan who stopped her with a firm but humble admonition. “Your cousin needs a moment alone.”
Hepdida rounded on the thief. “She is upset, I want to go to her.”
He shook his head. “She is angry and if you go to her you will only draw her fury like a lone tree draws lightning.”
“I don’t care about her anger.”
“But she will. She will care tomorrow and be sorry for the things she would say to you. Do not go to her when she is angry and provoke for her yet more cause for guilt and self-reproach.”
Hepdida hesitated. Ahead of her Niarmit paced back and forth beyond the camp perimeter, her head shaking , her fingers clenching and unclenching. Occasionally the priestess would stop and glare at the crescent moon low on the horizon.
“Come, sit down, my Princess,” the footpad urged as he sat cross-legged on the ground.
“I want to help her.”
“Then wait until she wants your help. Just being here is all you can do for now.” He patted the ground beside him and this time she accepted his invitation.
“Here, for you my P rincess.”
He passed her a tiny carving, scarce bigger than her thumb. She turned it over in her hands.
“It’s a cat,” he said at length.
“Oh I know, Kaylan,” she said hurriedly. “I could always tell, I was just amazed at how well it was done. You’ve even carved the fur.”
“Keep it,” he closed her fingers over the small gift and pulled a fresh fragment of timber from his pocket. “This one, I think will be a sheep.” He worked his knife into the grain, swiftly creating the crude outline animal shape on which to base the finer work.
“You are very clever with your hands,” she said.
“All thieves are clever with their hands, my Princess. And I have had plenty of time for whittling when your cousin has been struck by these moods.”
“Why is she so angry Kaylan? We knew what kind of army we were tracking.”
“Not all of it we didn’t, my Princess, not all of it.”
Hepdida racked her memory for what insignificant element in Tordil and Thom’s report had triggered her cousin’s distress. “We knew there were zombies and wizards, we knew some of the zombies were from the refugee caravan. We might have guessed there were orcs. There are always orcs. And everyone knows that the desert nomads ride with orcs these days. There was nothing new in this.”
“Tordil reckoned their force numbered twelve thousand, five thou sand of them the unrested dead, including as you say the risen refugees. The orcs another four thousand, the nomads perhaps two.”
“Tordil said three thousand nomads.”
“No,” Kaylan corrected her. “Tordil said three thousand humans, two thousand are nomads aye.”
“And the rest?”
Kaylan struck smoothly at his latest sculpture for several seconds. When he spoke again she thought at first he had changed the subject. “There was a man, a boy really, that the Lady Niarmit was once most fond of.”
Hepdida leant in, intrigued by the promise of a tale which might open a window on her cousin’s past.
“They were to be wed. It would have been a great union. An assured future for Undersalve, blessed by everybody up to and including the Goddess. The new young Royal line of Undersalve, joined to one of the most ancient houses in the province. There was much to celebrate when the prancing bear of the house of Prince Matteus was set to join the black eagle of..”
“The black eagle? That was one of the shields Tordil saw in the camp!”
“Just so.” Kaylan focussed on the head of his carving as Hepdida’s thought processes ran their course.
“Then the boy, her fiancé, he is there in the camp, serving the enemy!”
Kaylan shook his head quickly. “Not the boy no, he is dead. I….. he died. But it seems his father marches with the enemy. His father who once bent his knee to Prince Matteus and kissed your cousin’s hand, marches as an ally with
Hepdida rounded on the thief. “She is upset, I want to go to her.”
He shook his head. “She is angry and if you go to her you will only draw her fury like a lone tree draws lightning.”
“I don’t care about her anger.”
“But she will. She will care tomorrow and be sorry for the things she would say to you. Do not go to her when she is angry and provoke for her yet more cause for guilt and self-reproach.”
Hepdida hesitated. Ahead of her Niarmit paced back and forth beyond the camp perimeter, her head shaking , her fingers clenching and unclenching. Occasionally the priestess would stop and glare at the crescent moon low on the horizon.
“Come, sit down, my Princess,” the footpad urged as he sat cross-legged on the ground.
“I want to help her.”
“Then wait until she wants your help. Just being here is all you can do for now.” He patted the ground beside him and this time she accepted his invitation.
“Here, for you my P rincess.”
He passed her a tiny carving, scarce bigger than her thumb. She turned it over in her hands.
“It’s a cat,” he said at length.
“Oh I know, Kaylan,” she said hurriedly. “I could always tell, I was just amazed at how well it was done. You’ve even carved the fur.”
“Keep it,” he closed her fingers over the small gift and pulled a fresh fragment of timber from his pocket. “This one, I think will be a sheep.” He worked his knife into the grain, swiftly creating the crude outline animal shape on which to base the finer work.
“You are very clever with your hands,” she said.
“All thieves are clever with their hands, my Princess. And I have had plenty of time for whittling when your cousin has been struck by these moods.”
“Why is she so angry Kaylan? We knew what kind of army we were tracking.”
“Not all of it we didn’t, my Princess, not all of it.”
Hepdida racked her memory for what insignificant element in Tordil and Thom’s report had triggered her cousin’s distress. “We knew there were zombies and wizards, we knew some of the zombies were from the refugee caravan. We might have guessed there were orcs. There are always orcs. And everyone knows that the desert nomads ride with orcs these days. There was nothing new in this.”
“Tordil reckoned their force numbered twelve thousand, five thou sand of them the unrested dead, including as you say the risen refugees. The orcs another four thousand, the nomads perhaps two.”
“Tordil said three thousand nomads.”
“No,” Kaylan corrected her. “Tordil said three thousand humans, two thousand are nomads aye.”
“And the rest?”
Kaylan struck smoothly at his latest sculpture for several seconds. When he spoke again she thought at first he had changed the subject. “There was a man, a boy really, that the Lady Niarmit was once most fond of.”
Hepdida leant in, intrigued by the promise of a tale which might open a window on her cousin’s past.
“They were to be wed. It would have been a great union. An assured future for Undersalve, blessed by everybody up to and including the Goddess. The new young Royal line of Undersalve, joined to one of the most ancient houses in the province. There was much to celebrate when the prancing bear of the house of Prince Matteus was set to join the black eagle of..”
“The black eagle? That was one of the shields Tordil saw in the camp!”
“Just so.” Kaylan focussed on the head of his carving as Hepdida’s thought processes ran their course.
“Then the boy, her fiancé, he is there in the camp, serving the enemy!”
Kaylan shook his head quickly. “Not the boy no, he is dead. I….. he died. But it seems his father marches with the enemy. His father who once bent his knee to Prince Matteus and kissed your cousin’s hand, marches as an ally with
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