“Eat.” Sorgatani busied herself opening and shutting drawers in a tall chest standing beside the couch. At her back rested a saddle set on a wooden tree, decorated with silver ornaments and draped with a fine bridle.
Hanna tried not to wolf down her food, knowing it better to eat slowly to spare her stomach the shock of rich food. The tea eased the cold, as did the cozy warmth in the chamber, which emanated from a brazier. As she ate, she studied the furnishings: an altar containing a golden cup, a mirror, a handbell, and a flask. The couch, more like a boxed-in bed, behind Breschius was covered by a felt blanket displaying bright animals: a golden phoenix, a silver griffin, a red deer. No familiar sights greeted her, as would have been the case in any Wendish hall or house she’d had reason to bide in when she rode her messages for King Henry. In the land of the Kerayit, she was a stranger.
“I saw you in dreams, sometimes,” she said at last, not knowing how to speak to one whose language she ought not to know; not knowing how to interpret the many things she saw that were unfamiliar to her. “I looked for you through fire, but these many days I have not been able to see you, or anyone.”
Sorgatani turned. It was apparent she had been waiting for Hanna to speak, thus showing she was finished eating.
“Your Eagle’s Sight, do you mean?” Sorgatani looked over at Breschius. The net that covered her hair chimed in an echo of his anklets and bracelet. Her earrings swayed, a dozen tiny silver fish swarming on the tide of her movement. “Liath spoke of this gift. She taught me its rudiments.”
“She taught you!”
“Is it meant to be hoarded only to your chieftain’s messengers?”
“So I always understood.”
“Yet who taught them? Have you ever asked yourself that? And why?”
“Why were we taught? So that we might see and speak across distances, and thus communicate with each other and with the regnant. In this way the regnant gains strength.”
“For what purpose? Nay, do not answer that question. All chieftains wish to be strong so they can vanquish those who stand against them. Yet before I learned to see through fire, I learned about the nature of the heavens and the mysteries of the crowns. For all my life I have been able to perceive beyond the veil of the world the gateway which we here in the middle world see as a burning stone. In its flames those with sight can see across long distances, and some can even hear and speak words. The Holy One, whose knowledge is ancient and terrible, can glimpse past and future.”
“So it was when we crossed through the crowns! I saw down many passageways!”
“Just so.”
Breschius fetched the tray and went out.
When he was gone, Sorgatani sat down on the bed beside Hanna and leaned closer to her. She smelled of a heavy, attractive musk, stronger than lavender. “But hear me, Hanna. For all my life, the burning stone was like a beacon. Yet when the Ashioi returned, its light faded. I can barely touch it, or sense it, barely see it. It’s as if I have gone blind.”
“Blind?” Sorgatani’s scent distracted Hanna badly. She found it hard to think.
“I think Eagles trained themselves to see through the many gateways of the burning stone, although they did not know what they were doing. It flared so brightly that many could see through its passages.”
“Do you think it was destroyed in the wake of the cataclysm?”
Sorgatani shook her head. “The burning stone is not an artifact of the great weaving. In ancient days, so it is told, the Holy One had the power to see and speak through the gateway. That was before the great weaving was set on the looms. But only she had the power to call the gate into being, so it is told. The great weaving fed the power of the burning stone because Earth and heavens were joined by the thread of the Ashioi land, cast out into the aether. Now, that thread is severed.”
“So we are blind. What do we do now?”
“That is what you and I must decide.”
Hanna winced. “Do you really think Liath survived?” she asked, not wanting to trust to hope.
Sorgatani glanced toward the pura’s bed. A blanket was folded on the chest at the foot of the bed, but no one slept there. “Liath was alive up to the moment of the cataclysm. She was captured by the one called Anne, whom we fought. We would all have been killed, but Lady Bertha—a fine warrior!—broke us out of that camp. Afterward, my brave Kerayit raided their camp under cover of a fog I had raised, but they found no trace of her. So we waited nearby, concealed by my arts, because I felt that she was not dead but only biding her time. So she was. When that night came, when the Crown of Stars crowned the heavens, she brought to life rivers of molten fire out of the deep earth. We fled, because otherwise we would have died as did all of Anne’s tribe. Every one of them. If Liath survived the deluge of fire, I do not know.”