Chapter Four #2
“Aye,” he said. “I accept yer wager and tell ye that if ye win, I’ll give ye my gold coin. But if not, ye give me yers. One of us will have two coins in the end. That is a gamble.”
She had to think about what he’d just said. After a moment, her brow furrowed. “Why should men want to do that?”
“Because it can make ye rich.”
“Gambling can?”
He nodded. “Rich if ye win, poor if ye dunna.”
She was still frowning. “And you do it for the money?”
He shrugged, smiling lazily. “For money,” he said. “Or for whatever a man is willing tae wager. Food, horses, wine—a man can bet anything he wants in a game of chance.”
The concept was quite foreign. Anaxandra was standing there, pondering a game that made no sense to her, when they both heard shouting.
The women outside the stable made a break for the muddy bailey beyond, crossbows lifted.
But there was still more shouting going on and there seemed to be a good deal of frantic women rushing about, some with clubs.
Puzzled, and startled, Anaxandra dashed out of the stable.
Estevan followed.
As the rain pounded, they ended up in the bailey.
Visibility was difficult with the mist, even with some of the women bearing fat-burning torches, but Estevan could see clearly enough that he saw Kaladin outside of the sanctuary.
He was the one shouting, telling the women to back away, but the moment he caught sight of his brother, he began to rush in his direction.
That was when Estevan realized the man had a bolt sticking out of his upper arm.
“Do ye see what they did tae me?” Kaladin was shouting to him, outraged. “They shot me!”
Estevan reached out to steady him. “Ye knew they would,” he said incredulously. “They’ve been threatening tae fire at us since we arrived. Why did ye provoke them?”
Kaladin was furious. “Because ye went away and dinna return,” he said. “For all I knew, they were holding ye captive somewhere. I demanded tae know where ye’d gone, but no one could tell me. So I came looking for ye and they shot me.”
Now, Estevan was furious. Furious at his brother, furious at these foolish, nervous females. Anaxandra was next to him, looking at Kaladin with some concern, and he whirled on her.
“Is this what ye do?” he demanded, indicating his brother. “Ye shoot a bolt intae an unarmed man? Are the lot of ye truly so stupid and panicky that ye’d do this when all he wanted tae do was know where I’d gone?”
Surprisingly, she didn’t rise to his anger. The truth was that she didn’t know how to respond, so she simply reached out and grasped Kaladin by the arm.
“Come along,” she said steadily. “We must go back to the sanctuary. We can remove the bolt there.”
Estevan was livid, but he did as she suggested.
With him on one side of Kaladin and Anaxandra on the other, they managed to get him back into the sanctuary, where Titan, Mateo, and Rodion were waiting.
They grabbed Kaladin, taking him from Estevan and pulling him back into the vast hall.
That left Estevan to deal with the nervous nuns who had fired on his brother.
But he quickly saw that he didn’t have to.
Anaxandra was already interrogating the group that had been left behind, angrily gesturing toward Kaladin.
Mostly, she was met with quiet resistance, as if no one wanted to incriminate themselves, but one woman evidently spoke up and admitted it.
The next thing Estevan realized, Anaxandra slapped the woman across the face so hard that she stumbled backward and tripped over her feet.
As she fell to one knee, Anaxandra stood over her, scolding her, grabbing her by the hair and pulling it.
That made Estevan back off.
He’d never seen a woman behave like that.
Anaxandra was clearly in charge, clearly respected by the other women, but he also took a moment to look at the others.
Each one of them wore the same tunic, the same breeches, bearing weapons and looking as far from feminine figures as possible.
And what Anaxandra was doing was something a trainer or a commander would do.
She was dispensing discipline in a way that would teach the offender a lesson.
A painful lesson, but a lesson nonetheless.
He’d never, in his life, seen a woman strike another woman like that.
His mother and her spanking didn’t count.
This was far more of a disciplinary blow.
It was rather fascinating.
But also very strange.
What kind of place is this? he thought.
Behind him, an unearthly howl rose and he turned in time to see Titan ripping the bolt from Kaladin’s shoulder.
It was really his upper arm, but the moment he did it, Rodion slapped a rag over it, something he’d had in his saddlebags, to stanch the blood flow.
He went over to his brother, kneeling down beside him as Rodion and Mateo were trying to stem the blood.
“It’s not serious,” Titan told him. “They caught him in the meat of the arm, but we should rinse it with wine or ale to keep the poison away.”
Estevan was relieved to hear that. He raked his fingers through his dark hair wearily. “Good,” he said. “I dunna want tae spend any more time here than necessary. As soon as this rain stops, we depart. Wound or no wound.”
Titan couldn’t disagree. “There is something odd about this place,” he muttered. “These women… they are not nuns, Es. But the woman we brought here—she’s speaking a language I’ve heard before.”
Estevan looked at him. “Where have ye heard it?”
“North,” Titan said. “You have heard it, too. It’s the language of the Northmen.”
Estevan frowned. “Are ye sure?”
Titan nodded. “Aye,” he said. “Rodion has heard it, too.”
Rodion was focused on the bloody rag he was holding against Kaladin’s arm. “I heard it,” he said. “You know that language, Es. The princes of the isles are all around your father’s earldom. Or, at least, they used to be. Did you not recognize what she said?”
Estevan shook his head. “I admit, I wasna listening closely,” he said. “It sounded like…”
“L?t mig vara,” Rodion said. “Think—do you know those words?”
Estevan thought hard. It was true that the language of the Northmen wasn’t a stranger to the Highlands, and when he’d been very young, he’d had a friend who spoke the language a little because his parents were exiles from the Northman lands.
L?t mig vara.
“Leave me?” he finally said. “I think that’s part of what she said, but I dunna know the rest. It has been a very long time since I’ve heard that language spoken.”
“I do not know if the mother abbess knows,” Rodion said. “She’s been with the woman since you left, trying to calm her, but she does not seem to know her words.”
Estevan looked across the sanctuary, where the white-haired woman was indeed bent over the cot of the injured lady. The woman seemed to be listless because he could see that she was squirming about, lifting a hand every so often.
“Should I offer tae communicate with her?” he said. “I dunna know how much good I’ll be, but I can try.”
“Mayhap you should,” Rodion said, looking over to the injured woman also. “It might help establish some trust here. And mayhap they’ll be willing to provide us with a little food.”
He had a point. They’d been traveling all day and were hungry.
With a nod, Estevan stood up and went over to the area where the injured woman was now lying with her hand over her eyes.
The white-haired woman and a couple of other women were in a huddle, whispering amongst themselves.
But that all ended when they caught sight of Estevan.
“I dunna mean tae intrude,” he said when he saw that he had their attention. “But I think I may know her language.”
The white-haired woman looked at him in surprise. “You do?” she said. “Why did you not say so before?”
Estevan shook his head. “Truthfully, I wasn’t sure,” he said. “She was speaking quickly and I simply dinna recognize what she was saying. I can try tae communicate with her if ye want me tae.”
The white-haired woman looked at the woman on the makeshift bed. She had settled down now and was sleeping fitfully, so after some deliberation, the woman with the white hair shook her head.
“Let her sleep,” she said. “If you are here in the morning, mayhap we can try to communicate with her then. But for now, she needs sleep.”
“As ye wish.”
“What language is it?”
“The language of the Northmen.”
That seemed to bring the woman pause. She eyed him dubiously for a moment, deliberating as to whether he was right. She didn’t seem to think so, but she wasn’t going to outright disagree with him.
“I suppose we shall find out on the morrow,” she said. “Return to your men. We shall speak upon the morning.”
Estevan nodded, but he didn’t leave. “As ye wish,” he said. “But we’ve not eaten all day. Can we pay for a meal?”
The woman hesitated a moment before reluctantly nodding. “Aye,” she said. “It will not be fancy.”
“As long as it’s filling.”
She waved a hand in the direction of the men on the other side of the sanctuary. “Go, now,” she said. “I will have food brought to you.”
“Thank ye,” he said. “May I ask what we should call ye?”
“I am Mother Michael.”
“Thank ye, Yer Grace.”
“Nay,” she said, shaking her head. “Simply Mother Michael will do.”
Estevan nodded, finally heading back to the men in the corner. The bleeding had stopped on Kaladin’s shoulder and Rodion was trying to see how bad the injury was as Estevan walked up.
“Well?” Titan said. “What did she say?”
Estevan watched Rodion work. “She’ll send us food,” he said. “But we are tae stay right here until morning unless we want any more bolts launched at us.”
No one really wanted that. It was still raining furiously outside and the lightning was still bursting through the sky, illuminating the windows of the sanctuary from time to time. It was nearing sunset, so there was no reason to try to make it to Dumfries that night.
So much for The Butcher’s.
True to Mother Michael’s word, food was brought about a half-hour later, including ale that tasted like dirt, but it was better than nothing.
The food consisted of a rich, savory stew of pork and beans with carrots and turnips, and Estevan was quite surprised that it was so delicious.
The five of them ate until they could hold no more and drank the ale that gave them a strong buzz.
It was enough to put all of them to sleep quickly.
It had been a long day.
As the storm raged and the sanctuary settled down into cold, still darkness, the snoring of the warriors could be heard. But they weren’t alone. Anaxandra watched them, vigilantly, all night.
And one of them in particular.