“What’s the capital of Tintar called again? Is that where they’re taking us? That has to be it. If they’re actually going to do what Edie suggested and try to barter for a renewed trade agreement by holding us for ransom.” Mischa asked.
“How disappointed they will be,” said Eefa, bitterly.
“Keep your voice down,” Catrin gasped.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” responded Eefa.
“Girl, be at peace,” admonished Bronwyn. “She doesn’t want you to expose us.”
“What does she have to worry about?” replied Eefa, but this time in a lower register. “She is a Tigon. They will actually pay Tintar to get her back.”
The petulant girl was likely right.
“We have to take it hour by hour,” I piped in before Catrin, looking hurt, responded to Eefa. “We don’t know what they will do and we cannot begin to know.”
Helena and Quinn nodded as I spoke.
“Wondering will drive us crazy. Let us focus on learning everything we can about these men and about Tintar. And we should try to listen to their conversation when we can.”
“I can recite everything Tintarian I can think of,” volunteered River.
“Yes,” said Helena. “River can tell us about their culture. We’re not in Eccleston anymore. That’s a good idea. And it will occupy us.”
“The more we know, the more equipped we are as we decide what we should do. Perhaps the attempt to escape will even present itself.”
“When did we put her in charge?” sulked Eefa.
I opened my mouth more out of shock than wanting to say anything.
“I do not know,” said Quinn. “I guess I started taking her seriously when she thought to dress us up as priestesses so those superstitious murderers would spare us.”
“And when she put herself in front of us and faced down twenty swords,” said River.
“Edie just seems like she should be in charge,” murmured Catrin, looking towards me. Her smile was trembling and I thought how especially scary this must be for her, having grown up in wealth and security.
“She is in charge at the scriptorium. She is the head scribe,” explained Maureen.
“I don’t want to be in charge,” I said. “I just don’t want us to buckle under our fears. Now is not the time for panic. I want us to find a solution to this. I want us to survive.”
“Yes. That is the plan,” said Bronwyn to her daughter. “We survive.”
A look passed between them, Eefa looking angry and Bronwyn looking defeated.
“Eefa, how old are you?” I asked.
“Sixteen. Why?”
I gestured towards Maureen. “And Maureen is seventeen. If they ask, both of you need to tell them you have reached your majority. Priestesses are not often children.”
“I’m not a child,” said Eefa.
“She means in a legal way, girl,” said Bronwyn and there was a note of desperation in her voice that had naught to do with us being prisoners of war.
“There’s teenage girls for you,” Helena said to me, her mouth against my ear.
Under the sound of Bronwyn and Eefa talking, I turned to her, “Well, you have it a little easier with our girl.”
I nodded towards her daughter who was backing up Bronwyn saying, “Eefa, it will just lead to less questions for you and me.”
