Broken Earth Page 7

  “I think I am.”

  “Oh, Heidi, we can’t –”

  “What else can we do?”

  Dera frowned. “It’s a little wide,” she said. “Is it going to fit in the hole?”

  “I think so.”

  Dera answered her nothing, but covered her face with her hands.

  They started from the stable. Heidi looked back, and said, “Comm a’ien.”

  The box floated up (bouncing back and forth for a moment in the jamb of the door), and followed them back to the place where Josephine lay.

  Dera looked as if she would have a fit.

  “Oh, oh – I cannot believe we are going to do this . . .”

  Heidi put her hands on Dera’s shoulders, and tried to catch her eyes. “You need to calm yourself,” she said. “It is not what either of us want – but it is better, than had we left her sitting in that chair!”

  “I cannot do it, Heidi. I cannot put her in that box, and cover her with dirt . . .”

  She was not crying; but she was indeed becoming hysterical. Her eyes were opened wide, and she was shaking like a leaf. She looked to and fro, in every direction, and tried to avoid Heidi’s face. She was breathing so very hard, Heidi would have been not the least bit surprised, if she had fainted on the spot.

  “I know that this is hard,” said Heidi. “It’s hard to do something like this, and to pretend while you do it that it doesn’t hurt. But you must. Only put it all aside, for just a little while – and you can fall apart when we’ve done.”

  Dera nodded, and smiled faintly; but turned then towards the ghastly scene that could not, like her grief, be temporarily cast away.

  “All right,” she said shakily. “Let us finish this.”

  For just a moment, before making any move to complete what they had begun, they turned their eyes down to Josephine – with an absolute emptiness burning a hole through each of them. For the first time that day (or night, rather), Heidi actually looked at Josephine, taking in every detail that death had wrought upon her lovely face.

  Her skin was white as marble, and looked just as hard. Her hair was bound behind her head quite the same as always; hardly any of it was out of place, save for the few strands that Heidi and Dera had mussed upon carrying her out of the house. There was not a mark upon her body, bloody or otherwise.

  She looked like she was asleep.

  Just as Heidi was thinking this, Dera asked: “What if she isn’t dead?”

  Heidi turned her head slowly. “What are you talking about?”

  “What if – what if she’s only frozen, or, or –” She stuttered out a few nonsensical syllables, and then repeated, “What if she’s not dead, Heidi?”

  She sounded frantic – but even Heidi was desperate to consider it. She had to force herself to make reason.

  “She’s gone, Dera.”

  “But what if she’s not? Look at her, Heidi! There’s no blood, no . . .”

  “She’s not breathing, Dera. If she were alive, you would feel her breath. Put your hand to her mouth.”

  Dera fell to her knees, and held her hand before Josephine’s face.

  “Come now, Josephine!” she shouted. “Breathe, won’t you? Breathe, Josephine, please . . .”

  When she started to shake the body, Heidi reached down to pull her away, but was surprised by her sudden strength.

  “Don’t touch me!” Dera screamed, rolling away from her. “Just – just don’t. I’m all right; I’m sorry. Just don’t.”

  “All right,” said Heidi wearily. “I shall get her into the crate.”

  She removed the lid, and set it on the ground. There being no objects about to buffet the body, she decided to give it a try; and so took a step back, and spoke the words:

  “Aes boken. Deinad.”

  Josephine rose up slowly from the ground, and settled gently into what was to be her final resting place.

  When she was tucked away inside the great box (looking very small indeed), Heidi fixed the cover atop it. She then, with a great burst of strength, directed the crate into the hole in the earth.

  Willing themselves not to look any more at the box, Heidi and Dera shovelled the tall pile of dirt back into the hole. Heidi was already so tired, she wrenched her shoulder in the last few shovel-fulls. But she ignored the pain, smoothed the dirt over the rectangle of freshly turned earth, and returned her spade to the stable.

  Before she closed the door on the horses, she grabbed an iron stake from one of the shelves on the left wall. She walked back to the patch of brown amidst the white, and positioned the stake at the top of it, where they would someday fix a headstone.

  When she moved just a little to the right, the presence of Dera’s arm made her jump.

  “Good gods,” she said. “Where did you come from?”

  Dera did not reply. She only stared down at the stake.

  “So this is her grave,” she said, her voice pinched with sorrow.

  “I know it’s not enough – but it’s the very best we could do, Dera.”

  Dera’s face was set like stone.

  “Dera?”

  A look passed between them, then; a look that bespoke very clearly, that neither of them knew exactly what the other was feeling; but that they were free to feel it, without suffering the other to turn away.

  They stood for just a moment more, sadder than ever at leaving Josephine alone, under the earth of a cold winter night. But finally they turned aside, and made their way to the house, to clean themselves up, and to get whatever rest they could.

  Heidi no longer feared (at least in that moment) the threat of the Dúnanen. Even if she had known that they would arrive to kill her, within that very hour (which she did not; for they would not), she still would not have strayed from her bed.

  VII: Onward Ho

  Heidi woke early in the morning. She had been up for most of the night; and the acts she performed before retiring, filled her mind so that she could not sleep. It seemed that she had only just finally managed to close her eyes, when she rolled over in bed, and the first rays of morning light streamed down upon her face.

  She dressed quickly, and went to rouse Dera.

  “What?” asked Dera drowsily.

  “It’s time to go.”

  She opened one eye, and looked up at Heidi. “What are you talking about?”

  With sleep had come forgetfulness. With waking, knowledge would return; and before such a thing could happen, Heidi simply repeated, that it was time to leave.

  “Leave . . .?”

  Dera rubbed her eyes with her fists, so that she might see Heidi more clearly.

  Heidi walked away, before the look of understanding could come into her face.

  In the kitchen, she put on a pot of tea, and cut herself a piece of the almond cake on the counter. She ate slowly, staring at the kettle, and trying to think of nothing at all.

  “Is that still any good?” asked Dera, as she shuffled into the kitchen.

  “It’s a little hard, but it’s all right.”

  They said nothing more to each other until they had eaten, and finished dressing for their journey. Heidi packed while Dera puttered about, shoving all of the edibles into a large bag. She checked the waterskin, already attached to her hip, and found it to be nearly full. There was a spare in the cabinet; she filled it and put it into the food bag. She had a second pack for the blankets.

  They both took a long look about, before they made any move to exit the house.

  “Do you think we shall ever come back?” Dera asked.

  Heidi made her no answer; for she knew no more than she did.

  ~

  Before they even began to discuss what they were doing, they took Jedediah to the public stable on Delberry Road. They looked upon him sadly, wishing more than anything that they could take him with them. He stared back at them, eyes morose, seeming to understand that they were about to part.

  “How long will you be gone?” asked Quik Willoughby, keeper of the stable.
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  “I don’t know,” said Heidi.

  Willoughby scratched his head. “Isn’t this Miss Gregory’s horse?”

  “Yes. But she’s gone on a trip.”

  “Without her horse?”

  When Heidi said yes, it was almost more of a question than a statement.

  “Whereabouts?”

  “I don’t – I can’t –” She took a deep breath. “To see her mother.”

  “Unlikely,” muttered Dera, “even if she were alive.”

  Willoughby looked at her. “What was that?”

  “She didn’t say anything,” Heidi snapped, reaching into her pocket for a bit of money. “We really have to be going, Mr Willoughby. Now, I never did get the chance to finish my monthly business in Tolin; so I can only give you this at present. But I promise, when we come back –”

  He shook his head. “That’s quite all right. Hold onto that, why don’t you? I trust you well enough.”

  “Thank you so much, Mr Willoughby.”

  “Now you can’t say that old Quik Willoughby never did you any favours.”

  “I certainly can’t. Thank you again.”

  She and Dera said their farewells to Jedediah, stroking his mane as reassuringly as they could manage. Each of them kissed his great neck.

  Willoughby tipped his hat, took hold of Jedediah’s reins, and led him into the stable.

  ~

  “Do you think we should leave word for David?” Dera asked.

  “I don’t think Jade would want us to.”

  “That aside – don’t you think we should?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. I just – I don’t think that she would want us to tell him.”

  “But why ever not?”

  “You know how he is.”

  “And how is he, exactly?”

  “I don’t know,” said Heidi miserably, not quite sure anymore how to make it seem a bad idea.

  “We’ll stop at the post, then,” said Dera. “We can drop a note for him.”

  Dera led the way into the post building. She went up to the counter, and rang a bell that did not need to be rung; for there was a young man sitting right in front of her, who had looked up as she approached.

  “Can I help you?” he asked.

  “Do you have some paper? And something to write with?”

  “I must have a blank scrap around here somewhere. Hold on – and here.”

  He passed a pen and ink over the counter, which he had just been using himself. He came back a moment later with a small piece of paper.

  “Is this enough?” he asked.

  “It’s fine. Thank you.”

  He sat back down, but, being pen-less, could not go back to what he had been doing.

  “What should I write?” Dera asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Heidi.

  “Nothing about Josephine,” said Dera, looking down at the paper. “He need not know about that.”

  “He need not know about any of it.”

  “You know that Jade writes to him every week. What happens when no letter comes? And remember the last time he came to visit, without a word of notice?”

  “Then just – just say that we –”

  “That we what?”

  “That there’s been some trouble, and that we had to leave the house. Tell him we don’t know when we’ll be back.”

  “He’ll be off like a shot, the moment he gets the letter!”

  “Then don’t say it. Just tell him – tell him that we’re all going on a trip. We’ll be gone for some time, but will write when we return.”

  “Will he not wonder, why it isn’t Jade who writes?”

  “Then sign her name at the bottom.”

  “I would venture to guess that he would recognise his own sister’s handwriting.”

  “Write what you want, then! This was your idea, you know.”

  The pen-less fellow was staring, quite as though he did not know what to make of them. When Dera noticed that he was watching, she gave him a nasty look and said, “Mind your own business, pray.”

  He looked away nervously.

  “All right,” said Dera, pen scratching away upon the paper. “This will have to do.”

  She looked back at the pen-less fellow. “Would you happen to have an envelope?” she asked politely.

  He seemed somewhat fearful, as he passed one over the counter.

  She addressed the envelope, and then slid the letter inside. She passed the envelope over the counter with a “Thank you.”

  ~

  “And do we even know, I wonder, where we might go?”

  “I don’t know,” answered Heidi. “Do we?”

  “I thought you would.”

  Her brow wrinkled, as an incomplete thought passed through. “I may as well tell you,” she said, “as you’ll know for yourself soon enough – if I keep thinking of it.”

  “What?”

  “I know where Jade is going.”

  “Well, presumably! As you were going to –”

  “Never mind that. Forget all of it! The city is called Onssgaard; and it is Aerca’s primary target. Its Queen is said to be very powerful. If we go there –”

  “You want to go there? Why would you want to go there?”

  “Jade is going there.”

  “And I believe,” said Dera hotly, “that I already expressed my disapproval about that.”

  “Then what would you have us do?”

  “Anything. Anything at all but that.”

  “For instance?”

  “Renting a room. Leaving Delvare. Hiding in a shrub – whatever you like.”

  “I think we should go to Onssgaard,” Heidi persisted.

  “How do you know of all this, anyway?” asked Dera. “How do you know of this city?”

  “Jade.”

  “By all means – let us rush directly after her!”

  Heidi said nothing; but her silence was enough to maintain her objective.

  Dera shook her head, pulling miserably at her hair. “I don’t know why in the world I would go with you,” she said. “But it doesn’t seem wise to go anywhere you don’t.”

  “Oh, that’s the spirit.”

  Dera only scowled.

  ~

  Dain Aerca sat alone that night, listening to the chaos that was taking place in the cellars below.

  It seemed that her beastly little Narken were having a civic disagreement.

  She listened to the noise for only a minute or two, afterwards blocking it away as she had done with each previous distraction of the day. After all, she hardly minded if a few of the mangy animals killed one another.

  She could always make more.

  She stared into a glass Sphere. It was made of shining crystal; was hard, smooth, and perfectly round. She concentrated on the thick grey clouds, swirling all through the centre of the Sphere and obstructing her view. She had already spent over an hour trying to separate the dense covering. It blanketed all three who remained alive – but she could tell, at the very least, that the three were not together. Sometimes, she could see faint outlines through the fog. She was fairly certain that two travelled together, and that the other remained solitary.

  She could not tell quite for certain which was which; but she was beginning to think that she knew.

  She passed her hand over the Sphere, her efforts growing frantic. That dratted fog! It had been there for the past two years, each time she tried to view any one of the women under the protection of the strongest. It was the reason that she still knew so little of any of them. Really, it had been only a game at first; a chase in which she was the hunter, and they were the prey. There was no real insistence to the matter. But when the first Auren killed her missionaries, she realised that it was becoming more than a game. When she finally broke the spell that lay over the house, she sent the wolves straightaway – though they had failed to capture anyone who was of any consequence. When they arrived with the news t
hat they had killed the only one without Power, she had been unable to keep from laughing.

  Though she had not laughed for long. Her amusement quickly evolved into a boiling rage, and the result was two dead Narken whom she had had to dissipate into thin air, so that their brethren would not grow unruly.

  But now there were more shadows, even thicker than the ones before, that followed the three women as they made their way South. And now, more than ever, she needed the shadows to part. If she could not see where they were, she could not kill them.

  And that was what she most wanted to do.

  ~

  They reached Sitagrata at nightfall. Dera complained of being tired, and asked to stop for rest; but Heidi refused.

  “I want to ride through the night.”

  “And through the day, too, I suppose?”

  “Yes.”

  “Come now, Heidi!”

  “If you want to stop, go ahead. I wish you luck catching up with me.”

  Dera just shook her head moodily.

  It would take at least three days to ride through Sitagrata. It might be so long as four, to reach the mountains.

  “Might you at least pass me a blanket?” said Dera.

  Heidi reached into one of the packs tied to Eriah’s saddle, and pulled out two blankets. She gave one to Dera, and wrapped the other around herself.

  “This is ridiculous,” Dera muttered. “It’s freezing.”

  “If you don’t stop with your grumbling, I’m going to sew your mouth shut.”

  Of course, that only made her grumble all the more.

  “Do you have any idea how far we still have to go?” Heidi asked her.

  “What matter?” Dera snapped, rubbing at her eyes. “What is it how quickly we get there?”

  “Why prolong it?”

  “Why the rush?”

  “I’ll leave you behind. I swear I will.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  Heidi sighed. “No. I won’t.”

  “Do you even know the way to Onssgaard?”

  “No.”

  “Then why are we racing towards the mountains?”

  “This is the way Jade came.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Do you really want to return to that subject?”

  A sigh. “No.”

  “May I ask you a question?”

  “Why not?”

  “Where would we be going, if we were going where you wanted to be going?”