62. Now Knife
NOW: KNIFE
Aweek passed. Dermid visited us for a few days, then Keir and then Evangeline. I found myself pining for a glimpse of Reed, and when I finally caved and asked Evangeline where he was, she claimed he was of late always in talks with Thane or scouting ahead.
“Why?” I asked her, nearly petulant, wondering if Thane had noticed Reed’s interest in me—however reserved Reed was—and was purposefully sending him away. Then I inwardly berated myself for being so arrogant as to think that.
Evangeline said she did not know.
The threat of Starling’s plot with Bertram and Gerard to kill me still weighed on me, and I did not sleep well. I wanted to confide in someone, but Tessa’s worry over Adelaide held me back, as well as Jade’s happiness, Fox’s age, and Ilsit’s loud mouth.
Before the dust road diverged for a bit from the Oberlong, Jade and I had spent nearly a whole night harvesting from god trees with Keir standing guard nearby.
I would stand inside and scrape as much as I could, passing clumps of it out to her for packing into all the sacks we had.
Whichever of us rode in the wagon during the day was given the duty of grinding it into its paste and scraping it into the tins.
We had harvested as much as we could, as more of the wagons were draped with flower garlands day by day.
At night, in pairs, we dispensed the tins.
Tessa had put up a fight over this, claiming it would draw more attention, but I sided with Ilsit, who had always advocated for doing it in pairs. Tessa made us promise to go about it as quietly as we could.
Evangeline told her brothers about the garland code, and wagons’ numbers were reported to us throughout that first week after Griston.
We tried to memorize them. Jade had said she wished we had a book and a reed pen to write them down, and I found myself guilty at keeping my copy of The Life of Una hidden even from them.
But I could not risk feeling that loss again.
Don’t lose hope.
If I somehow lost a second book of Una, I knew I would lose hope.
All of us had started wearing our aprons everywhere we went.
Women would walk past us and slip empty tins into the pockets.
Jade once came back from emptying the latrine bucket sounding like a rather unpleasant wind chime when she moved, so many women had greeted her good morning and slipped their tins into her pockets.
A week’s journey from Griston, as our campground and the ones around us were made ready for sleep, Ilsit and I set out with the tins.
There were fourteen wagons with garlands we planned to visit that were all at the back of the caravan.
The moon was nearly fully in bloom again, a fat, pale rose in the sky beaming down on us.
I dithered about whether or not to wait for it to wane again, but Ilsit argued that it would only get lower and brighter until another nearly week and a half had gone.
“Look, we’re breaking it up into sections, right?” she reasoned. “We’re doing it by rows? We did the two hundreds a few nights ago. Then the three hundreds. It’s just twenty or so every night, not the whole camp. Tonight we have a handful of folk in the five hundreds. It’ll be quick.”
I agreed with her that this was the least amount of moonlight we’d have for a while, and we carried on.
When we reached the last rows of the numbered wagons, with only a small unit of soldiers camping behind them, she suggested we split up and deliver the last two tins separately so as to speed our work.
“I’ve got five hundred and seventy-two. You take five hundred and twelve? I’ll jaunt down to seventy-two and find you at twelve in a little bit.”
Before I could object, she patted me on the arm and strode off.
I was afraid to call after her and draw attention.
I creeped along the rows of wagons. Many people chose to sleep on the ground in bedrolls beneath them, opting for the fresh night air and the room, even as autumn was drawing to a close.
Most wagons were full of trunks, and some, like ours, had poultry and small animals inside.
When I found five hundred and twelve, not only recognizing it for the pitch-painted numbers but also for the scraggly aster chain hanging from the driver’s seat, I squatted next to the wheel well of the front left wheel and put the tin of paste in between some of the spokes.
I moved slowly so as not to disturb the nearby bodies in bedrolls.
Then I straightened and began to turn in place, looking for Ilsit.
I reasoned with myself that it might take her longer to return to me.
As I was biding my time, looking up at the asymmetrically exposed moon, pockmarked but beautiful, I felt a knife against my ribs. Before I could cry out, a strong hand wrapped around my throat.
“Don’t call for help or I will slip this blade in you.”
I wanted to call out, but no sound came from me.
“Do you remember Gayla?”
I could tell it was a man, and he was big and strong. I decided that it must be Gerard. Bertram was also a fit man, but his anger always boiled over when he spoke to me, whereas I noticed that Gerard, while a more religious man, was less spirited and more calculating.
“I do not,” I tried to say.
“Well, I suppose witches kill so many babes, they forget about it. Do you remember the crime that got you arrested?”
I went entirely still.
“Yes. That Gayla. I wasn’t in Sheridan then. But plenty of good Perpatanian men were, and they told me what you did to her, that you almost even paid for your sins. And of course, when she and her husband returned to Perpatane, she told me.”
“I don’t understand,” I gasped out, trying to breathe despite his clutch at my throat.
My heart was a crazed animal in my chest. I prayed Ilsit would return and then felt selfish for the thought as it would put her in harm’s way too.
“Please, please let me go,” I implored with what sound I could muster.
“I cannot, witch,” Gerard replied. “I consider your death a calling. You see, my sister died in childbirth not a full four seasons after you destroyed her womb. You condemned her to death, you and the hag you called teacher.”
“No!” I croaked out. “No. I swear it. Please. You have to believe me. I am sorry she died. That night we stopped her from bleeding to death. Her later dying likely came because a midwife wasn’t called—”
“I will not listen to a pagan woman’s ensorcellments and evils. Now, I say all this so that you know who it is who spills your blood. This is retribution.”
“Gerard!”
“Oh thank gods,” I choked, realizing that what I heard was Ilsit hollering her former husband’s name from some direction I could not see, shouting obscene and vile things at the top of her lungs.
“I’m going to cut your balls off, Gerard!” she yelled. “You best let her go.”
Other voices started to join hers, people irritated from being woken.
He swore in my ear and then pushed me to the ground.
I was scrambling to my feet, trying to spin my back away from him as quickly as I could so I was not vulnerable, when I felt Ilsit grip the back of my tunic and pull me upright against her.
We watched Gerard’s back retreat between two wagons in the direction of the military vehicles at the back of the caravan.
“You had better run!” she called after him into the night.
“Do you mind?” said an old man, poking his head out of the tarpaulin covering wagon five hundred and thirteen. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but it is godsdamn dark out, so most people are trying to sleep. No one wants you caterwauling at the moon out here.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Ilsit screamed at him.
The old man’s eyes went wide, and his mouth fell open. Then he pulled his head back inside his wagon.
“Oh my gods,” I said, massaging my neck and shaking my head. “Oh my gods, he almost got me. Oh, Ilsit. Thank you.”
“Let’s get the hell out of here before some night patrol guard starts chewing our asses out for nocturnal activities,” she answered and grabbed the back of my tunic to force me to begin walking down the rows of wagons.
For all of her hot temper, Ilsit was no fool and did not start interrogating me until we were well away from the scene of my attack.
“Explain,” she demanded, drawing us to a stop when we were closer to the four hundred rows, but far enough away so as not to be overheard by the rest of our party.
“And don’t you dare tell me some bloody lie about him giving you the usual hard time.
I saw the knife he had. Robbie. That was a murder. ”
Under the nearly full moon, I stared into her apprehensive face.
I had always thought she would have been a prettier woman if her features did not hold so much scorn in them.
But with the softening of the moonlight on her, her brows raised slightly, her anger set aside as much as someone like her could put it, I couldn’t help but think she was one of the loveliest women I had ever seen.
And seeing her concern for me now, hushed and afraid, made her regular scorn all the more beautiful to me.
It was the face she showed the world. It was her shield.
And its absence frightened me. I reached out and took her hand.
I confessed everything about what had happened that first night in Griston.
As I finished, she squeezed my hand and asked, “Can you repeat what they said about the timeline and Torm and Thane?”
“They said I best die before Skow. And that Starling says Torm and Thane shouldn’t know how my death happened.”
“I think I might understand that part. Your mother and Torm used to swive, correct?”
“Ah, I wouldn’t put it that crudely.”
“And you Thane used to swive—”
“Also an overstatement.”
“Hmm. Old Torm likely has had a soft spot for you, despite thinking you heathen scum, in memory of your dear mother. And we know Thane has always been in love with you. Rowena and I used to laugh about it. Making absolute doe eyes at you in the old days. Pathetic.”
“So what do you mean?”
“I mean Starling wants you dead, but he doesn’t want to be bothered with Torm’s old allegiance or with Thane.
And he doesn’t trust any soldier to do it.
He plays on Gerard’s clearly having a grudge against you.
And Bertram’s always hated you. At the keep, when we were young?
He used to belittle Thane for liking you.
Unceasingly. Tried to get Wynne and Kent in on it. ”
“I didn’t know Gerard was kin to the Gayla woman.”
Ilsit shrugged. “She was my sister-in-law, but I never met her. She died before Gerard came to Sheridan and we wed. It’s the ‘before Skow’ part I don’t understand.”
“Well, what do you think we should do?”
With her free hand, she reached up and twisted my ear.
“Ow!” I cried out and slapped her away.
“That’s for not telling me sooner. Dolt.”
“You’re going to wake the whole caravan tonight,” I hissed, rubbing my sore lobe. “My gods, I almost had a blade in my gut and now this.”
“And you’re sure we’re not bothering Tessa or Jade with this?” she challenged me, releasing my hand to rub at her chin.
I shook my head. “Tessa is beside herself over Adelaide. Her anxiety grows each day. And I’ve never seen Jade so . . . She’s so happy, you know? And not happy for others or happy to be alive or because she is reading a book she likes. She’s happy for herself.”
Ilsit nodded. “I really tried to hate the Vyggian. Actually, all four of them. But I like Evangeline and Dermid. And the other two aren’t half bad.”
“I thought you said you wanted to take Keir for a ride.”
She winced. “In theory. I like a stiff prick, but then they open their mouths and it puts me off coupling. I think I’ll go back to women for good.”
“Don’t make me laugh.”
“Back to this nonsense,” Ilsit said and lightly cuffed me on the side of the head, shushing me when I protested.
“You’ll tell me everything about this from now on.
No more martyrdom for you, you stupid, stupid cow.
My gods, you’re an idiot. For now, I’ll respect your not wanting to tell the others, but I may go back on my word.
We’re not going anywhere or doing anything without going in pairs.
I’ll make something up to tell Jade and Tessa.
Fox is smart, and she does pretty much whatever I tell her to. ”
“Did you just imply that you are smart?”
“I’m not implying anything. I am smart. It’s you who is a twit. Look where you got yourself, not telling anyone. We will be vigilant, twice so, you and me.”
“Both my ears hurt.”
“Good. Maybe you’ll use what’s between them then.”
Later, when we spread out our bedrolls next to Tessa, Jade, and Fox under the wagon, Ilsit made a psst sound and said my name.
“What?” I whispered.
“I hate to bandy about the idea of your imminent death, but maybe you should take the one-eyed man for a ride. Just in case. While you still can. You know. As if there is no tomorrow.”