“It is true,” spoke up Hathui, “that Liath led the refugees through the hidden tunnel so many have spoken of. If any can find it again, she can.”
Liath heard no reply from the king. Beside her, Hugh cursed softly under his breath. “Eagles,” he said curtly. “Withdraw.” Rufus did at once, but Hanna hesitated. “Go!” She backed away. “Look at me.” She kept her head down. “Liath!” he hissed, but she would not look. Let him strike her where everyone could see, even his noble peers. Let her at least have that satisfaction, even if it would make no difference in the end.
From inside the tent the king spoke. “It is good advice, Sister. Hathui, see that the young Eagle who came from Gent rides with the message to Lavastine. You may dispose of the others as you see fit.”
“Do not think you have escaped me,” said Hugh in a reasonable tone. “I will go in now and tell the king which Eagle Sapientia wishes to replace you. You know which Eagle I will choose….”
She could not look up. He had won again.
He smiled. “Your friend will be my hostage until you return. She, and the book. Remember that, Liath. You are still mine.” He turned and walked into the tent. So, with his honey-sweet words, did he convince the king.
“Liath.” Hanna laid a hand on her arm. “Stand up.”
“I’ve betrayed you.”
“You’ve betrayed no one. I am an Eagle. That means something. He can’t harm me—”
“But Theophanu in the forest—”
“What are you talking about? Liath, stop it! He doesn’t care about me, he only cares about you. As long as I behave myself, he won’t notice me. Lady and Lord, Liath, I have survived Antonia, an avalanche, creatures made of no flesh or blood, two mountain crossings, a Quman attack, flooded rivers, and your bawling. I think I can survive this!”
“Promise me you will!”
Hanna rolled her eyes. “Spare us this!” she said with disgust. “Now go collect your things.”
Liath winced, remembering. “Burned,” she whispered. “Everything burned in the attic.”
“Then tell Hathui and she’ll see new gear is issued to you. Oh, Liath—did you—did you lose the book, after everything?”
“No.” She shut her eyes, heard the soft flow of words from inside the tent, heard Hugh laugh at a jest made by the king, heard Rosvita answer with a witty reply. “Hugh got the book.”
“Well, then,” said Hanna sharply, “it’s just as well I stay behind to keep an eye on it, isn’t it? Wasn’t it I who got it away from him at Heart’s Rest?”
Liath wiped her nose with the back of a hand and sniffed, hard. “Oh, Hanna, you must be sick of me. I’m sick of myself.”
“You’ll have no time to get sick of yourself when you’re traveling all day and just trying to keep alive! That’s what you need! Now go on. The king wants his Eagles sent out as soon as they can get horses saddled.”
Liath hugged her and went to find Hathui.
But in the end, when she left the king’s encampment, the road swung back by the market village and, curious, she took a quick detour up to the rise to see the burned palace. Hathui had found no bow to replace the one lost, and there were no swords to spare with so many having been lost in the burned barracks. She had a spear, a spare woolen tunic, a water pouch and hardtack for the road, and a flint to make fire. She had not told Hathui she needed no tools to make fire.
She could not help herself. She dismounted at the charred gates and led her horse into the ruined complex. Already human scavengers tested the blackened timbers nearest the edge of the fire, those that had cooled; they searched for anything that could be salvaged. Liath threw the reins over the horse’s head and left it to stand. She trudged through wreckage, boots collecting soot, her nose stinging from the stink. A sticky trail of blood from her nose tickled her lip, and she licked it away and sniffed hard, hoping the bleeding would finally stop.
She knew where the barracks stood. Though confused about the palace’s layout in her first days at Augensburg, she now knew the route well because of the fire, when she had plunged in more times than she could count in her vain attempt to drag all the sleeping Lions to safety.
There, at that spot, in that courtyard, she and Hugh had jumped to safety. He had had the presence of mind to grab her saddlebags before he jumped. That he still limped from a twisted ankle gave her some pleasure, but not enough.
She had been too horrified to think. The flames had come so fast, so fierce, and she had not meant them to come into being at all. They had come to her as fire leaps to any dry thing within its reach. She had scrambled to safety after him, and only then had she remembered all the people lying asleep in the palace.
