The Priest’s eyes widened.
“You have no authority over the Temple,” they said softly. “And they have decreed that anyone who chooses must be allowed to join the Followers and wander with them undeterred.”
“Do you have any idea who I am?” hissed Ban Morin.
“I’m afraid not,” said the Priest, “but even if you were the Pontiff himself, this girl has the right to leave you and follow her calling.”
“Let. Go,” I said through clenched teeth. I glared at Ban Morin with all the force I could muster, and he glared back with a cold, dangerous fury. He looked from me to the Priest, and back, and then released his grasp—one finger at a time, as if asserting that he meant his loosening hold to be only temporary. When he finally let go, I staggered a little, but made my way over to where the Priest stood, rubbing at the encircling bruise on my arm. They watched me approach, with Mieka following close behind.
“Matilda!” called Milady. “Where do you think you are going? Have you forgotten who pays your wages?”
Mieka made a rude gesture at her, and Milady gasped.
It couldn’t be this easy, surely. Ban Morin and Milady would find a way to stop me. But no—both had to stand there impotently and watch while Mieka and I found a place amongst the Followers and joined their march out of the mansion and off the grounds.
The ravens chittered at me from the eaves, one defecating a long white stream, which told me exactly how he felt about the drying-up of the ravens’ daily crumb supply. I heard a ruffle of wings and felt a sting in the skin of my shoulder as something sharp-clawed and ungainly landed there, wobbling a bit as it got its balance.
It was Baldbeak, of course, flapping and complaining in my ear as he dug his claws right into the weave of my cloak, probably leaving a hole. I turned to look at him, and he snapped affectionately at the end of my nose.
“Ridiculous bird,” I said. I reached up to smooth the sparse feathers at the base of his beak, and he closed his scaly eyelids and crooned.
“Friend of yours?” inquired the Priest. “He is a handsome creature.”
Baldbeak preened. The Priest continued looking straight ahead. “Your … guardian seemed not best pleased at your leaving.”
“She certainly is not,” said Mieka under her breath.
My heart pounded with every step away from Milady’s estate, half expecting shouts or galloping hooves to sound behind us. The Followers’ reputation for inviolability, however, seemed to hold; no one dared interrupt our steady march.
The Priest of the Followers was delicate, bird-boned; their soft cap of hair barely concealed the pink of their scalp. They rode on an elderly gray mule at the front of the Followers’ train, so still in the saddle that they could almost have been asleep. If it weren’t for the slight gleam beneath their eyelids—also lashed with that near-white hair—I would have thought they really were asleep.
It was not difficult for the walkers to keep pace with the mules, as they plodded as slowly as they could get away with. There was an ease to the Followers, however, now that they were on the road again; a tension when still that lifted when in motion.
I just had to get far enough away, I told myself. Just far enough away that Ban Morin would not follow …
Foolish.Of course he would follow. Possibly Milady, also. Icould never be far enough away. The most I could do was slip away from the Followers as soon as I could and make my way to Spire. Once I found out where it was.
I was glad to have Mieka with me, but I wondered reluctantly whether I should try to slip away from her as well. She would be safe enough with the Followers. I wanted to believe she was truly my friend, but she worked for Patrick, and as long as she was with me, he would be able to find me as well.
I had been walking in a dream, and now I collided with the rump of the mule in front, making it huff and stamp its hind leg. Baldbeak, who had been dozing on my shoulder, gave a startled croak.
“Sorry,” I said to the mule’s backside.
“Come and walk with me,” said the Priest. It was a gentle request, but even if I hadn’t wanted to obey, I had the feeling I would have been powerless to resist.
“Why did you really come with us today?” they asked.
I hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. “I … I just needed to leave,” I said finally. “The people I was with—they were using me for their own purposes. I had to get away.”
The Priest nodded, their gaze steady and neutral.
“And there is somewhere I have to go,” I said. “Do you know of a monastery at Spire?”
“Yes. It is not more than two days’ ride from here. One of the more famous monasteries, as it boasts the largest scriptorium in the kingdom. All the best makers of books work there, creating all the most complex and powerful spellbooks.” The Priest crooked an eyebrow at me. “But I thought you had a burning calling to become a Follower,” they said. Their sleepy eyes were suddenly sharp as silver pins.
“Oh, yes,” I said, stumbling a little.
The Priest smiled at me. “You would not be the first to join us for your own reasons, nor will you be the last,” they said. “We are moving in the direction of Spire, but will turn aside onour own road. We can part ways then. I will let you know when we are near.”
