Jeanne G'Fellers - Sisters Flight (18 page)

"They'll
soon be a sizable army making ready for my arrival."

Longpass
shook the bars again. "Raskhallak has given me a wedding gift to share
with all his faithful. He's called me to lead the final charge into the Taelach
stronghold."

"An
honor you cannot deny," said a man to his right. "How did the early
attacks fair?"

"Just
as planned. We've beaten them back from their borders." Longpass leaned
against Rankil's cage. "They've had to flee their caves. We've upset their
order, squeezed them together so they'll do what all women do when there's no
man to give them direction—they'll panic." He smiled and moved to sit on
the cage. "They'll be easy targets for seasoned troops and fodder for the
cleansing fires." Longpass's smile turned to a leer when Rankil moaned
beneath him. "Tonight's festivities are just a taste of what's to come for
the Whitewitch."

"What
of your trophy?" said another. "You keeping her for a slave?"

"She's
our guest of honor tonight." Longpass laughed heartily. "After I have
her head, she's to be cleansed to bless our cause. And her ashes will honor my
marriage. I see many sons in my future."

"Grandsons
as well," added one of the other men. "Your daughter will make a good
third wife to me."

"And
your daughter will make a fine wife as well." Longpass extended his
undamaged hand to the man. "Both women will drink deep of the wedding wine
this evening! We'll sprinkle their drinks with a bit of witch ash to ensure
their fruitfulness!"

"Anxious
to make a baby, are we?" chuckled another in the group.

"More
anxious for practice than another mouth to feed!" Longpass strummed his
fingers across Rankil's cage. "Let's return to the tents and indulge in
our fill of wine before the holy happening commences."

I
sat in silence when they'd left—empty of ideas and will. Evangeline closed her
eyes in meditation and Stiles stared off at the ground, her mouth twitching
with string after string of curses launched at no one. What could we have said
to comfort each other? What could we have said in way of consolation? Soon the
Tekkroon, its satellite clans and the Yauld would all cease to exist, and we
were in no position to prevent it from happening.

The
day waned and the evening sky hung heavy with snow. Torches illuminated the
riverbank and small fires dispersed the impeding cold. The wedding guests
mingled, indulging in Aut delicacies and wine until time for the dual nuptials.
A small group of musicians assembled at the end of the dock, and dancing music
drifted through the air, creating an odd mix of misery and gaiety.

Rankil
was conscious, but in the confines of her tiny prison, she was unable to sit
up, so she lay on her side, facing the festivities. Evangeline assured me Rankil
had recently reached a place of inner peace, a place of forgiveness for those
who held her captive, but I only saw the child I remembered—curled in on
herself for protection. When I whispered as much, Evangeline objected
vehemently.

"She's
curled in to conserve her body heat." Evangeline nodded toward the
festivities. "A girl is approaching with a guard."

"Another
one with something to prove," I said and bowed my head so I could see
through my hair without being accused of looking this girl in the eye. Commander
Stiles's bruised jaw had been enough of a reminder. After time at Longpass's
hands, she had been placed in our pen and sat on the other side of the pen with
her head down, mouthing silent curses. I knew it wasn't the first blow she'd
ever received from an Aut, but it was surely the most difficult to take. I
looked briefly at her and she nodded, assuring me she was okay.

"We
got more company," she mumbled. "Your turn."

"Not
the first time," I said and looked back at the girl making her way toward
us. She paused briefly at Rankil's cage then trudged up the bank to our pen.

"Kaelan?"
She covered her nose against the smell.

I
looked at the girl but didn't answer, knowing her presence was more than likely
a lure so the partygoers could further taunt us. The men had already thrown
wine on us, and their sons had poked us with sticks until we'd bruised. While
her presence was unusual, I wouldn't give this girl any provocation.

"Kaelan?"
She ventured a closer step and pushed back her hood. The face wasn't familiar
but the eyes were. One focused on me while the other, faded from disuse, turned
inward.

"Olitti?"

"You
still know me." Olitti turned to dismiss the guard who had followed her,
then the one outside our pen. Both objected but departed when she reminded them
who her father was. "Dah's making me marry tonight," she whispered as
the guards loped off.

"Won't
they miss you down there?" I didn't dare raise my head, so I concentrated
on Olitti's feet. Small feet, not much larger than the ones my Jewel had wrapped
with rags when Olitti had lived with us. A child's feet. A girl's feet. Not a
woman ready for marriage. "You'd best go before someone catches you."

"They
think I've gone to drop water." Olitti's wedding gown, dyed red for the
blood spilled at childbirth, peeked from beneath her cloak. "I don't want
to get married to that old man."

"And
we don't want to die."

"I
don't want any of you to die either. Will you take me from here if I let you
loose?"

"You
have to set the others free too."

"I
don't know how." Olitti crinkled her nose then glanced back at the
festivities. "Dah will notice if I'm gone too long."

"He'll
notice if any of us are missing."

"Not
as quick." Olitti wrapped her fingers around the cage bars. "You're
for after the wedding." She reached through the bars to touch my face. Her
hand was almost as rough as mine, and her eyes, when I ventured a glance, were
sad far beyond their age. "I can set you free, but the rest you've got to
do on your own. Open your mouth."

"What?"

"Open
your mouth." Olitti placed a small pick between my teeth. "It'll undo
your lens and the shackles." She touched a finger to her lips then to
mine. "My brothers cried when we left you, but now Dah's taught them to
hate Whitehairs. But not me." Olitti tapped her forehead. "I
remember." She peeked over her shoulder toward the tents and sighed.
"I'd best get back before someone important notices. I want you to know
that I think of you and Jewel as my parents. You're the only ones who ever
were."

"Thank
you, 'Litti."

"Hold
tight to that pick."

"I
will, sweetheart."

"And
I'm sorry."

"For
what?" I mumbled as I tucked the pick beneath my tongue.

"For
what my dah does to your people and for this." Olitti spat in my face and
slapped me across the ear, cupping her hand to lessen the blow.
"Raskhallak's fire burns for you, Whitewitch!" I fell back as if the
blow had been hard and stayed on my back, face away from Olitti until she was
well away.

"She's
gone," Stiles murmured after a moment, then she and Evangeline scooted as
close as they dared so we could work.

When
the sun had set, the weddings began. Olitti and the other young bride were
brought before their husbands and made to kneel while an elder male, a
high-ranking cleric, so I gathered from his robes, rambled on about a wife's
duty and how a pious wife obeyed her husband. While he droned on, we worked ourselves
free. Despite our bound hands, we somehow managed to free each other and were
working, one at a time as each feigned sleep, on our amber lenses. Our guard,
who was caught up in the ceremony, took no notice and had actually loosened his
lens to gain a clearer view. Evangeline, the first free of her lens, lashed out
with her mind and, to my surprise, the man dropped in front of the pen without
a sound. Unfortunately, another guard saw him fall and ascended the hill to
check his companion.

We
pretended to be sleeping while the second guard nudged his friend.
"Drinking while on guard again," he mumbled in disgust then turned
back to us. "Wake up, you Whitehair bitches. They're almost done down
there."

When
we didn't reply, he rattled the pen door. "Wake up."

Evangeline
opened one eye just a little as her presence descended into mine.
He's phase
blind. We need to distract him.

Ask
for firewood.

Wood?

We
have to ask for it.

At
a price, I am sure.

I
paid to warm the pen more than once.

The
way he is looking at me, perhaps I should ask. Help me with Autlach words but
keep it simple. I've always been slow with foreign tongues.

Just
ask for warmth. Loma.

Logical.
Evangeline raised her head.
"Loma." That wasn't exactly the familiar terminology, but the guard
understood perfectly and raised one corner of his mouth in a smile.

He
moved closer, holding up a torch. "Well, I lost that wager. I figured
you'd be near as frozen as the one Longpass dunked."

When
I translated into Old Tongue, we agreed Evangeline should repeat what she knew
with one added word—please.

"Loma,
nrish."

"You'll
be warm soon enough," he said then called down the hill for another guard
to assist him. When no one responded, he called a second time and an older man
who must have been his superior rushed up the hill to shush him.

"It'll
be your tongue if you don't shut up," he seethed. "You know the laws
about talking during a holy happening."

"The
pen guard drank himself over," said his subordinate in a hushed tone.
"We need to get him somewhere warm."

The
guard commander swore under his breath. "You do that then come back and
take his place. I'll stand here until you get back."

"Me?"
grumbled the guard. "I was coming off duty when I saw him fall."

"Yeah,
you." The guard commander grasped the dagger on his belt. "Is there a
problem?"

"No,
sir," the guard said and quickly scooped up his unconscious companion.
"One of the Whitewitches is awake, sir. She asked for a fire."

"Did
she now?" The guard commander peered down at Evangeline as the others
moved away. "You want heat, woman?"

"Nrish,"
Evangeline whispered after I translated. "Loma." She shifted inside
the pen so she could see the guard commander better. He looked at her for a
moment, surveying the bindings still tucked around her wrists. "Longpass
said we're to keep you all alive, so I had best see you don't freeze. Come to
the bars." He grasped the small flask off his hip. "It's wine. Enjoy
your last drink." With that, he thrust his hand between the bars and held
the flask to her lips. She sipped until he pulled it away.

"Na'r,"
she said.
Thanks.

"My
post." He smirked and stood before her for a moment longer, drawing his
eyes up and down her body. "You're a pretty Whitewitch for your age. A
shame to see such a beautiful body wasted on a Whitewitch." He extended
his mitted hand to her shoulder and pushed back her cloak. "You people
always have nice bodies, like a new Aut bride before babies ruin her." His
touch extended down under her tunic to her breasts. "No wonder some men
like fucking their witch slaves better than their own wives."

I
tried not to flinch as Evangeline stared at him through her loosened lens and
attempted to repeat what I suggested. "Loma, nrish?"

"Normally
I already would've bent you over," he said. "But your group isn't
made of the usual witches. You're Longpass's new trophies. I can't be caught
soiling you." His hand still lingered on Evangeline's breast.

"Na'r,"
she repeated. "Loma?"

He
shivered and smiled. "I'm sure the others have told you the price."
He pulled his keys from his cloak. "I'll just take you out for a
moment." Evangeline stepped through the door as soon as he opened it, and
he pulled her against him. "White flesh looks cold, but it's as warm as
any other." He closed the pen then pulled Evangeline to the ground, where
he floundered on top of her, trying to undo his sword belt, drop his leggings
and disrobing her all at once. And Evangeline let him continue to do so, even
seeming to help as much as she could around her bindings until he tore her
tunic back, jostling her undone shackles hard enough for them to slip from one
wrist.

"Stars!"
The guard commander reared back in search of his sword, but Evangeline reached
up, grabbing his throat with her right hand as she punched his face with her
left. When he fell away, she held on with her right hand, digging in with her
fingers and squeezing so that he wouldn't cry out as she threw her body on top
of his. When he reached for his sword again, Evangeline kicked it from his
reach and struck him across the face with her shackles then wrapped them around
his neck, twisting the chains until he ceased flailing underneath her.

"Phase
blind but thinks with his crotch," she whispered when she opened the pen.
"And stupid enough to think a bound sister harmless."