“Very well,” said the Priest. “We leave in an hour.” Their lips stretched in a wry smile. “We find that most of our … hosts prefer us not to stay too long.”
I raced to my room, where Mieka was tidying the bedclothes.
“Get your things. We’re leaving.”
“What?”
“The Followers.” I was smiling so broadly it hurt. I opened the window and called to Baldbeak, who came fluttering down to land on the sill.
“We are leaving this morning,” I told him. He cocked his head.
Good, he said.
“Mieka and I will be walking with the Followers. You can join us as soon as we get outside.” I scratched the fine fuzz on his beak. “I’m sorry. I know you will miss your new flock.”
You are my flock, he said. I buried my face in his wing feathers for a moment.
“Wait, what is happening?” asked Mieka.
“The Followers are here. We can leave with them, and no one can stop us. It’s Temple law.” I laughed at the expression on her face. “Quickly, get everything you need. They will be leaving soon.”
I gathered up the sewing things Mieka had found for me, and checked that Mother’s three hairs were still safely wrapped in their handkerchief in my pocket. I was superstitious about them by now, keeping them on my person at all times and sleeping with them under my pillow. Mieka and I found warm cloaks in the wardrobe and fastened them about our necks with trembling fingers.
“Ready?” said Mieka.
“Ready.”
“Why on earth are you wearing that?” asked Milady when I came back downstairs. She had immediately spotted the cloak I now wore over my dress, of course.
“I was cold,” I said. I pulled it tighter around myself.
“Well, the Followers are leaving,” said Milady. “We have to bid them goodbye in order to receive theirblessing”—she said this with heavy sarcasm—“on the house. Come along.”
The Followers were busy gathering their bedrolls and tying on their packs. Milady watched them, expressionless. Ban Morin’s expression, however, was easy to read. Hehatedthem. That seemed odd to me. It seemed altogether too strong an emotion for these peaceful people, yet it blazed from his skin like body heat.
When the Followers were ready, the white-haired Priest looked over at me where I stood next to Mieka, both of us straight-backed and tense. They did not speak, but one of their eyebrows raised questioningly.
Feeling as if I might faint, seeing spots of light dance in front of my eyes, I started forward. Ban Morin grabbed my hand. As soon as he touched me, the finger encased by his heirloom ring felt numb. I flexed my fingers a little, and at that small movement, Ban Morin’s grip on my arm grew tighter.
“What are you doing?” he hissed. I struggled to free myself.
Milady noticed the kerfuffle from the corner of her eye. “Netta?”
“Let me go.” I wriggled my arm, trying to slip it through his clenched hand, but could not move. Beneath his fingers, my skin was turning white.
“What are you doing?” Milady shot at me. Her eyes were like two chips of glass.
“My lady,” said the soft voice of the Priest. “Please ask your companion to release the girl.”
Milady wheeled round. “What?”
“Please ask your companion to release the girl.” They gave a gentle smile. “She has requested to join us on our pilgrimage.”
Surprise sat oddly on Milady’s perfect features.
“Ibegyour pardon?” Her tone dripped acid.
Ban Morin, on the other hand, turned red. His fingerspressed right on the bone of my arm, as if to bruise it down to the marrow. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “She is bought and paid for.”
