“I’ll go look at the Mountain. We’ll leave for the City when you’ve rested.”
“I’ll go with you,” I said immediately, but Taran waved me off.
“No, you’re going to stay here until I’m convinced that murdering the bird and then deflowering you on the floor of this filthy hut is a bad idea.”
I blinked but was cheered by the news that murdering me seemed to be off the table, even if parts of me didn’t think the rest sounded like abadidea, exactly.
He fixed me with a stern look. “You are going to want to be asleep when I get back.”
“And then what are we going to do tomorrow?” I asked, feeling daring.
Taran sighed and put my knife away on his belt.
“That’s what I am going to think about while I’m out walking. Because you’re right that I’m still stuck in your war, but I’m telling you right now that I’m not dying in it again.”
“Good,” I said firmly, and this was the second thing I said tonight that seemed to really surprise him.
23
The Mountain wasstill on fire the next morning. Orange flames were occasionally visible through the black smoke, and the wind brought cinders that clung to the inside of my nose and throat. Taran said all the Stoneborn were vanished beneath the rock, but he could hear Death’s cries below the surface. We had until the Allmother was satisfied with his contrition to prepare for his return.
“It could be a thousand years. It could be a week. The Allmother loves her evil stoat of a baby boy,” Awi mused.
“Ah, maternal devotion,” Taran said sourly. “I’ve heard stories about that.”
Little immortals had been disappearing for months, Awi eventually told us, the forgotten gods of dried-up springs and abandoned hilltops. The Stoneborn had taken no notice, fully absorbed by their own dwindling storerooms and the silence where mortal prayers had once been.
No wonder Awi had been so desperate to escape when I met her. I found a little sympathy for the bird at last, although her presence in the knot of my hair prevented any continuation of my conversation with Taran, clothed or otherwise. His stormy face said he’d come to no conclusions anyway. It only took three days to getto the City even at the pace of one lame horse and two riders, the weird logic of the Summerlands prevailing over my understanding of its geography. Taran went into the baths as soon as we arrived, stripping without a word of warning—or bothering to close the door. I yelped and scuttled off to the little room he used as a kitchen when he bared the dimples at the base of his spine, mumbling flimsy excuses about finding us something to eat.
He quickly reappeared with his wet hair combed back from his forehead and his skin scrubbed raw and pink. As soon as he was dressed, he headed for the door again.
“Bird,” he addressed Awi. “Do you want to come tell Genna what you saw?”
“Better not mention that I was there at all. Genna doesn’t like me,” she said, shrinking back to her old hiding spot on top of the wardrobe.
“I don’t like you either,” he said pitilessly, then scrubbed his face with a palm. “Not that you’ve committed half the capital crimes I apparently did.”
“What are you going to tell Genna?” I asked.
“I’m sure you’ll be shocked to hear this, but not everything.”
“Should I come?” I asked, though I was still filthy, since I was not exactly up to joint bathing with Taran.
“No. I don’t want you anywhere nearby when the Peace-Queen starts thinking of what she can throw at Death to pacify him this time. Stay here and don’t unlock the door for anyone until I return. Even Marit.EspeciallyMarit, if the Allmother has already brought him back.”
“But—” I began to argue, not liking the idea of Taran going out unarmed and exhausted when we knew that Death had been snatching immortals off the street to sacrifice.
“Do I need to lock you up again, or can you stay out of trouble for one hour while I find out if we’re the first ones back with a storyabout what happened?” Taran thundered, eyes beginning to crackle with anger.
“I’ll just go clean up, then,” I said, looking down at my feet with what I hoped was an appropriately contrite expression on my face.
I kept my posture demure until Taran had slammed the door shut and locked it behind him. Then I did exactly what he should have expected I’d do.
I bathed and washed all the ash and soot out of my hair. I put on the least revealing of the green dresses Taran had stolen for me before we left the City. I took two stone knives out of Taran’s hidden stash and fastened them to my belt.
And then I sang the door open and headed toward Genna’s palace.
Taran’s vague referencesto cooking and cleaning for him had led me to believe there were domestic facilities underlying the visible buildings in the City, but I wasn’t prepared for the maze I found beneath Genna’s dormitories. For as empty as the surface of the City seemed, the less-decorated rooms underground were packed and busy with saffron-garbed mortals hard at work.
