“What’s that mean?” he asked as he scanned the missive. He shook his head, not understanding what the note meant.
“She’s been taken,” Terena said, her voice choking on the last word. She pushed past Vassori, her movements jerky as she quickened her pace. Rydon followed, with Croak and Gabriol close behind.
“She was not taken,” Vassori was saying, jogging to catch up to Terena. “She escaped?—”
“She wastaken,” Terena spat, turning on her with the viciousness of a viper. Standing toe to toe with the tracker, Terena’s eyes burned. “By Rivermen. And now Solon will have her, regardless of what your brother promised.”
“Mayhap that was the plan all along,” Croak muttered, earning him a shove from Gabriol. Migela reached out reflexively to steady Croak as the boy looked over at them, affronted. “What? Don’t tell me none of you thought of that possibility? We’ve known Xoran for years, and you’re surprised he’s gone back on his word?”
“I know my brother,” Vassori argued, her breaths sharp as she raced after Terena, who’d stormed off once more. “TheRivermen were to meet up with Xoran to hand over Sonah but she escaped. He would not lie about that. He swore an oath?—”
“Not to me,” Terena snapped, sparing a quick glance over her shoulder at the other woman. Vassori shook off the venom in Terena’s voice.
“Aye,” she conceded, continuing to follow Terena. The others kept a safe distance as they listened to the exchange in silence. “Aye, not to you. But to someone he would never cross.”
“Solon?” Rydon called out.
“No,” Vassori growled, not bothering to look at him. She stepped in front of Terena, her hands on Ren’s arms.
“He swore to?—”
Before she could finish, a look of surprise came over her face and she fainted.
Terena leanedagainst one of the large bossena trees growing near the river. This time of year, their graceful branches, filled with distinctive orange leaves in the summer months, were bare. Swaying lazily in the breeze coming from the east, they resembled emaciated limbs with thin, bony fingers crackling faintly against one another. They reminded Terena of the eerie sound the incense burners made when the priests in Metilai would wave them in front of worshipers on the high days.
Shivering against both the sounds of the trees and the cold air creeping beneath her fur-lined cloak, Terena looked over her shoulder, waiting. She’d told Rydon to come for her when Vassori woke, but that was half an hour ago. Frowning, Terenaturned halfway, ready to make her way back to camp, when she spotted someone coming through the trees toward her.
Croak smiled when he caught sight of her, and she relaxed her stance, smiling back at him.
“Where’s Rydon?” she asked when he ambled to her side with a big sigh.
“With Vassori. She’s awake but when she tries to recall what happened,” he shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Strange,” Terena remarked quietly, almost to herself.
Croak clicked his tongue and bent over, swiping up a branch and waving it in the air like a sword. “Not really. Vassori is strange, so it stands to reason…”
Terena laughed lightly, shaking her head as she straightened away from the tree. As she walked, Croak fell into step beside her.
“Do you think she meant Hermes?” he asked as they came upon the camp. Orry was sitting beside Gabriol, blowing on a cup he clenched between his hands. As they approached, Gabriol lifted his head and gave her a slight nod. She smothered a smile when she caught Gabriol’s glassy-eyed expression as he listened to Orry explain something he’d read in a priestess’s journal about how the shroud opened the portal.
“I don’t know who else it could be,” Terena answered Croak, taking a seat on a log in front of the fire opposite Orry. “Perhaps he bound her, making her unable to say anything he wants kept secret.”
“She said she didn’t know him.”
Terena shrugged as she stretched out her legs. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s lied to us.”
Croak sat next to Orry and sighed, taking the cup from his friend’s hands, despite the protest from both Orry and Gabriol.
“There’s plenty to go around,” Orry scoffed, even as he reached into his saddlebag for another cup. He poured thesteaming brew and handed the cup across to Terena. She thanked him, lifting it to her nose and smiling as the bitter aroma made her shiver.
“The boy told you?” Gabriol asked, his voice gruff.
Terena took a tentative sip and shrugged. “He told me Vassori doesn’t remember anything.”
“She remembers. But she cannot say,” Gabriol replied.
When Terena lifted an eyebrow, he added, “Vassori is bound by an oath to a god. So she cannot tell you more. Literally.”
