I have to be careful with the trees, she reminded herself. I don’t want a bough to drop someone on the head. And Briar would never forgive me if I hurt a tree. But I do want to make them the laughingstock of the empire when I’m done.
She chose her trees, and her display place for Shan, then checked the progress of her spinning. The two mages were done first, their shoulders and heads bare, the rest of them completely embraced in thread. Sandry called the man’s cocoon to her first, holding out her hand for the rope that trailed below his feet. Once she had it in her grip, she threw it at a solid oak’s branch. It whirled up and over the bough, drawing its human burden up until the man dangled several feet above the ground. She directed the rope to wind itself around the branch five times. Then she rewove the loose end into the human cocoon. The weavings and the cocoon itself were more than strong enough to hold the gagged mage until help should come. She appraised her work, hands on hips, testing it to make sure there were no fatal weaknesses in her work. Satisfied, she turned to do the same with Shan’s remaining companions. All along they tried to fight, as Shan did, but their efforts were useless. She had practiced her craft hard and long: They were gagged before they even knew to make a sound, secured before they understood she was awake. By the time Shan and his followers understood they were cocooned so tightly they could neither squeak nor move.
Shan himself she placed on a large, table-like rock near the spot where the horses were picketed. Using her power, she commanded the rope that ended in his cocoon to drag him onto the rock. As he bumped across the grass, she rewove three saddle blankets to make a second rope. Gently she placed one end on Shan’s chest as he cursed her to Blaze-Ice Bay and back—she had left his mouth and head uncovered—then gave both ropes their orders. They wove themselves together and went flying, as if they ran on invisible shuttles around the rock.
When she finished, Sandry patted Shan’s chest. “You can tell all Namorn this is what happens when I’m vexed,” she informed him softly.
“Little bitch,” he snapped.
Sandry looked him over soberly. “If you had understood that earlier, we could have avoided this unpleasantness,” she replied.
Ignoring his curses, she helped herself to apples, bread, and water from someone’s supplies. I’m coming back, she told Daja and Briar, who sent her a wave of relief in answer. She took Shan’s horse. The gelding was a fine animal that deserved a better master than Shan. Mounting it, she realized she was still wearing her nightgown. Cursing Shan for the indignity, she hauled the thin garment up around her thighs to get her feet in the stirrups and her behind, where it should be.
It’s not how I envisioned the kidnapped woman’s return after triumphing over her would-be captors, she thought angrily. Why is the real thing always so much more ordinary than the vision?
She had no fear she would be lost. The tie that bound her to Briar and Daja stretched, thickly silver, down the road. There was one last thing to do before she followed it, however.
She urged the gelding over to Shan, whose face was purple with rage and helplessness. “Now you know,” she said hotly. “When I say I don’t like you, it really means I don’t like you!”
The 4th – 11th days of Mead, 1043 K. F.
The imperial hunting lodge, the Carakathy Mountains to the Olart border crossing, the Imperial Highway South, Namorn
The empress of Namorn and her escort were always given the right-of-way on the roads. They passed Deepdene Road not long after Sandry and her party turned down it in search of the Canyon Inn. By the time Sandry had escaped Shan’s trap, recovered, and returned to the road for two days, Berenene had taken up residence in the imperial hunting lodge near the Olart border.
With the empress came imperial business, including her spies’ reports. Reading them, Ishabal learned that Quen had been left in a cage of wire and thorns, while the imperial Master of the Hunt had been found, with his companions, trapped in thread cocoons. She took these reports to Berenene, who had been a difficult companion since they had left Dancruan.
“So the children have power,” the empress snapped, tossing the papers to the floor. “We knew that. Do you know what the gossips will make of this? The wench spurned two of my favorites—never mind that Quen is no longer a favorite and he wasn’t trying to marry her. That’s what they’ll say. Two! And they’ll whisper that perhaps my favorites are not so devoted to the old woman as they pretend to be!”
“Imperial Majesty, I am old,” replied Isha gently. “You are in your prime.”
“I’m sure the Yanjingyi emperor will see it just that way!” retorted Berenene. “No, Isha. I cannot afford even the appearance of weakness. You of all people know that. When they get to the border, I want you to raise its defenses against them.”
Isha gathered up the reports, trying to think of a tactful way to speak her thoughts. She could think of none. “Imperial Majesty, what if the borders fail?”
Berenene’s eyes bulged. “What?”
“We must consider the possibility,” Isha went on. “Two of these children bested Quen, who has spent six years defending Your Imperial Majesty with his power. He has been tested by great mages and succeeded, but a girl and a boy wrapped him up in a neat bundle. Lady Sandrilene did the same with seven people, two of them mages. Not great mages, but good ones. The possibility of failure must be considered.”
“If you approach it with that attitude, you open the door to failure,” snapped the empress.