“They’re still not at the meeting place?”I guessed.The forest inland to the south took on more shape and definition, and up ahead I saw the smoke and pricks of light that marked more farmhouses nestled among snowy hills.“Olsa isn’t coming.”
“She is not,” Samuel affirmed.“Hartis moving east, but in convoy with the other ships.I… I have no doubt he has been captured now.”
“What is east?”Charles asked.“Where are they going?”
“Ostchen,” Ben said.“The naval port.It would be the natural place to take any captured ship.”
Samuel’s arm retreated from my waist, and I realized he was adjusting his weapons—loosening his cutlass in its scabbard with a rasp of frozen steel.
I unfastened clasps of the saddlebags so we could reach our pistols quickly.“Is someone coming?”
A dog began to bark.It came distantly, back up the road—too close to be the shaggy dog at the farmhouse.It was also not alone.A howl joined it, then another.
“Fuck,” Benedict growled.Charles had slowed his horse, and we came alongside to confer.“How could those dogs be tracking us?I was in the water long enough to kill me.”
“Regardless.Alwaysassume the dogs are after you,” Charles said with grave conviction.“If Olsa is not coming, we need to take to the forest.”
“Now,” Benedict added, reaching for the reins.
Charles elbowed him back and gathered the reins himself, directing the horse off the road.Samuel followed without a word.
I looked back the way we’d come.The sun slipped up over the eastern horizon, casting our shadows over the mottled line ofour tracks.My thoughts slowed, clotted with fear, and, for a few breaths, I gave it rein.
I imagined hounds tearing through the snow, harrying us into the trees.I imagined the riders that would come behind them, muskets sparking and pluming.I imagined a bullet in Samuel’s back.Hands, dragging me back to the prison, to the cell with the other Stormsingers, gagged and helpless.Chains fastening me to the mast of a Mereish warship.
I began to sing.The snow returned quickly, remembering the song I’d sung it a short time ago.A flurry of thick, fat flakes melted on my cheeks and swept us silently into the pines.
When the trees surrounded us, I changed my melody.I sent the snow driving ahead of us at a blistering, nearly horizontal angle, carrying away our scents.My trained winds, however, kept us in a bubble of calm, full of the clink of tack and the crunch of snow beneath the horses’ hooves.
“There’s a monastery called Oruse, two days’ ride from here.One, now,” Samuel said, raising his voice just enough to be heard.“They are bound to shelter anyone, even foreigners and criminals.”
“Are they also bound not to betray them?”Benedict asked, his eyes haunted for one vulnerable moment.
“I’ve hidden in my share of monasteries,” Charles put in.“Aeadine, given.But they were not prone to betrayal.Half the monks were hiding from sullied pasts.”
“I’d prefer to ride right for Ostchen,” I said, surprising myself with how true it was.The prospect of staying another minute on Mereish soil chilled me, and the weight of unbelonging was oppressive.“We can findHartand get out to sea.”
“Because reclaiming your ship will be entirely straightforward,” Benedict said with false congeniality.
Dogs bayed in the distance, muffled and distorted through the snow.We were all quiet for a moment, listening to them echo and fade through the trees.
Charles was as serious as I’d ever seen him.He flicked his gaze between us.“I can lose them, if you trust me.”
“We have no choice,” Ben pointed out.
I nodded and felt, more than saw, Sam do the same.
“Then follow my lead and do as I say.”Charles nudged his mount into movement and we set off after him.
TWENTY-TWO
Blood Upon the Snow
SAMUEL
Hooves rippled.Dogs bayed.Mary and I huddled close in the saddle, following Grant’s lead down a track of ice-crusted mud and dusted snow.With every thunder of my heart, I resisted the urge to shout to Grant, to question him and drive our mounts to a gallop.The road was too uneven, slick with ice and scattered with fallen branches, not to mention our horses were already fatigued.
Grant threw out an arm and we diverted, clustering on the bank of a swift creek.Ice rimmed the shores but a recent thaw had opened the center, where water glistened in the filtered forest light.
