“What about Brin?” Malcolm asked. “You’re taking her, aren’t you?”
“No, I—”
“But this sounds like an incredible opportunity,” Malcolm said. “I don’t think anyone…well, any human…has ever set foot on Belgreig. You’ll want her there to remember it.”
Brin’s expression lit up at the suggestion.
“She needs to stay.” Persephone pointed at Brin. “To witness the choosing of the keenig. That’s of far greater importance.”
“But there are other Keepers for that,” the girl said. “I can get the story from them when I get back.”
Persephone looked at Brin, whose eyes were filled with eagerness. Persephone sighed in resignation. “Okay, fine.”
Brin jumped up, grabbed a sack of her own, and started stuffing items inside. She gathered a stack of the slates as well.
“You aren’t taking those, are you?”
Brin looked down at the three stone tablets as if they were a beloved puppy. “I mark on them.”
“You what?”
“I draw memories on them. It helps me keep an accurate account. Roan understands them. Others could, too. When it comes time for me to train a new Keeper, she can just look at these tablets and know everything. I started using chalk, but it smears too easily. Now I’m making deep scratches.”
“The tablets look heavy.”
“I’ll manage.”
Persephone had finished packing and Moya gave her a scornful look. “And what about your Shield? If you dismissed Raithe, who’s the replacement?”
“Nobody. Don’t need one,” Persephone said.
“Seph, you’re going to a foreign land to face a giant…you need protection. For the love of Mari, you should be taking a war party!”
Persephone scowled. Moya really was sounding like Persephone’s mother, which irritated and amazed Persephone, and made her miss her parents all at the same time. “We’re going with Arion. She’s better than fifty strong men.”
“She’s a Fhrey.”
“So?”
“So I don’t trust her to protect you.”
“Moya, we’re going on a ship as the guests of the Dherg, to a city where Brin and I will likely spend our time in a room doing nothing while Arion and Suri dispatch this giant.
“I’m sure Brin will have a lot to take in,” Persephone went on. “But I’ll likely be bored to tears.”
Moya didn’t look appeased.
“What?” Persephone asked. “What do you want from me, Moya?”
Moya clapped her hands against her sides. “There’s no other choice. I’m going with you.”
“You are?” Roan spoke for the first time, sounding concerned.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Moya,” Persephone said.
“You don’t think I can protect you?” Moya drew the blade at her side and held it up. “Tekchin has been training me. He says I’m learning fast. And I’ve impressed everyone.”
“Are you sure it’s your fighting skills he was talking about, my dear?” Padera asked.
Moya whirled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
No one dared answer, but both Brin and Persephone struggled to suppress a laugh.
Moya glared, and then swept the blade across her body. She spun and executed an impressive downstroke, followed by a fast somersault. Back on her feet, she swept again and halted the blade just inches from Persephone’s throat, positioned in a threatening manner.
Persephone jumped back and nearly fell.
No one had laughter to suppress after that.
Moya slammed the sword back into its scabbard. “I’m coming with you.”
“Okay,” Persephone said.
“And so is Roan,” Moya added.
The ex-slave, who was on the ground fiddling with a stick and a rope, looked up, shocked.
“What? No,” Persephone said. “This is getting out of hand now.”
“We can’t leave her here, alone.”
“Moya,” Persephone said sternly. Moya was well meaning, but she sometimes treated Roan like a child. “Roan will be fine. She’s not alone. She’ll have Padera, Gifford, and—”
Roan let out a small sound, not unlike a whimper.
“What?” Persephone asked. “What is it, Roan?”
“I took one of the little spears from one of the Fhrey,” Roan said in a voice just a breath above a whisper. “I just wanted to look at it, study it, feel how it was balanced. I didn’t realize that—” She started to cry.
“Roan?”
Moya answered for her. “Gifford found out, and he took it back. Told them that he was the one who borrowed it. He was beaten bloody.”
Persephone’s hand leapt to her face, and she started to leave, going in the direction where Gifford usually slept.
“He’s not there,” Padera said, catching her by the wrist.
“Where is he? How is he? Will he be okay?”
The old lady pushed slowly to her feet, groaning with the effort, and waved at Persephone as if the question wasn’t worthy of an answer. “Gifford is like a turtle. He don’t run so fast, but there’s no breaking that hard shell. Got him resting up at West Puddle in that throne room Habet built for you. Gifford is lying in the lap of luxury, he is.”
Persephone looked from Moya to Roan, then to Malcolm. “Isn’t anyone with him?”
“He don’t need much at the moment,” Padera said. “Other than rest. Which is why I don’t want you going up there and bothering him.”
Persephone nodded and turned back to look at Roan, who sat on the ground, rocking back and forth.
Moya sat down next to Roan. “I can’t help worrying about what might have happened if Gifford hadn’t been there. If she had returned the javelin instead.”
“They wouldn’t hurt a woman, would they?” Persephone asked.
Moya looked back, with too many questions in her eyes. “I want to think not, but look at what they did to a cripple. Maybe to them we’re only a bit above animals—almost-people. And you don’t have to treat almost-people the same way as real people, do you?”
Persephone looked at Roan, who was already back to work, tying her rope to the end of the long stick that lay across her lap. Is that how Iver had viewed Roan? As an almost-person? How else could he have been so cruel? She imagined Roan being beaten by the Fhrey—once more beaten for being an almost-person.
“Pack light, Roan. We’re not going to be gone long.”
—
The village of Vernes was built in tiers that descended the stony hillside from the dahl to the docks in a way that reminded Persephone of the dessert Padera had made for Reglan’s fiftieth birthday. Instead of wild berries and nuts, the decorations on these layers were shops and homes. Most were built of mud bricks, and several were a surprising two stories tall. The tight tiers made for narrow streets and even narrower alleys, which had the party trudging along in single file. Frost, Flood, and Rain were out front like hounds.
They left at dawn, partly because Persephone feared that the council would break up if they couldn’t agree on a leader, so time was of the essence. Also, she worried about losing her courage if given a chance to think about the decision for too long. But mostly, the hour of departure was determined by the schedule of a Dherg trade ship. Frost and Flood had managed to arrange passage for them on the vessel, which would sail once its supplies were loaded. That had turned out to take most of the night.