Her tinderbox was buried at the inn along with Lysandros.
“There’s snow on the branches, if it bothers you so.”
She came down from the rock, went to the firs on the side of the road, put her coat down on the ground, and knocked snow onto it. She shoveled it into her hands and brought it to her mouth. Her head hurt. She was surrounded by snow, and there was plenty untrodden by people or animals, no less clean than the snow on the branches. She recalled herself drinking from streams and picking berries to eat on the spot when she was a little farm girl in Arland. Perhaps years of living in the Capital had made her squeamish.
“Now unravel the bandages from my legs. Who knows when he will be upon us again? Only when I am free can I even hope to defend us.”
Arienne glanced at the black stains on the bed and pillows.
“No.”
Eldred shrugged. Something he couldn’t do before his shoulders had been freed.
“I know you will, once you realize that only I can save you. I only hope it is sooner rather than later.”
His torso, even more so than his face, was rotted. The shriveled skin was torn in places, revealing muscles that looked like dried meat. Arienne suppressed the impulse to ask him if he hurt and said instead, “That book,Sorcerer of Mersia,it ends with you being killed by Lysandros and being turned into a Power generator. Did something else happen after that?”
“Listen not to what Lysandros says. Did you notice what he carried on his back?”
“The wooden box?”
“A Class Two Power generator.”
“If it’s a Power generator, why is it so small?”
“The body itself is small.”
“What, is there a baby sorcerer in there or something?” Arienne almost laughed at the ridiculous idea, but her breath caught in her chest as she remembered that Lysandros had had a newborn son, whom Eldred had tried to make his apprentice…
“Lysandros thought I had corrupted his son. So he killed him, drowned him with his own hands. He calls me a monster, but to murder his own child and turn him into a Power generator to prolong his mechanical life—that is truly monstrous.”
Somehow Arienne knew this was true. It chilled her colder than any northern winter could.
She carried the coat with snow back up to the rock. The late-afternoon light made the snow shine bright. Not a cloud was inthe sky. Pretty soon she would make it to the top of the pass. A smoke plume was coming up from there. There must be people there.
Back the way she’d come, far down, she could make out the shape of a person, only one. Lysandros? She didn’t want to know. She could do nothing but push onward. Eldred said nothing.
Before the Empire took over, Finvera Pass was inhabited by elves who exacted a toll for those who wished to use it. It was also said they would bring out their hounds on winter nights and steal human babies.
Arienne knew Finvera Pass had a large clearing on top of it, where the elves’ palace had once stood, but she had never seen it. She had taken the sea route from Ledon when she left Arland, so this was going to be her first time seeing Finvera Square with her own eyes. But she did know that the Empire had massacred the Finveran elves prior to conquering Lontaria. She also knew that they knocked down the ancient palace, laid down a road right through it from south to north, then erected an Imperial square, leaving no trace of the former residents except for strange elven markings on the fir trees that surrounded the square. Maybe identical squares dotted all the conquered lands of the world.
Once she reached the top, Arienne stopped, surprised at the sight of the square. There were fifty or so armed people. She almost turned herself around. She was far from that forest tower where she had killed the two inquisitors, but what she had done haunted her still. She drew a steadying breath and walked on, ignoring the impulse to hide herself in the shade of the fir trees. There were tents and fires here and there, people gathered around each in fours and fives. Were they mountain bandits? She felt eyes on her as shestepped into the square, and heard whispering among the small groups as she passed. She was halfway across the square when some of them stood up to block her. There was no other choice but to stop in her tracks.
The one who stood closest to her was a tall man in his forties. He carried himself in a way that gave Arienne the impression he was the leader. She eyed the trees surrounding the square like walls, and thought back to the spell she’d used that dawn to collapse the derelict inn. Could she use it now? There was no roof here, but she could imagine the trees falling on these people the way the walls of the inn did.
Then Arienne realized that she was thinking so calmly of ways to kill fifty people at once. She shuddered. She’d spent too much time with Eldred.
The man spoke in slightly accented Imperial.
“We apologize for disturbing you. We are not bandits, I assure you. We simply have a few questions that we hope you’ll answer before going on your way.”
He was polite, but Arienne doubted they would let her go if she happened to not like their questions, or they her answers. “If you’re not bandits, who are you?”
“We are the Kamori Liberators. I am Emere, the younger brother of King Gwaharad.”
The only way through the square was the exit on the other end. The trees were dense on either side, and just behind them were steep, snow-covered peaks. She didn’t see a way around them, nor could she make a run for it through this encampment.
“What would you like to know?”
