were candles, too, pressed along the rim of the well in the center of the grove; a stubby, short thing built of crumbling limestone. The candles were set in the four cardinal directions, just over carved hash-marks in the language of trees; Hal did not know how to read them, though she guessed they said, daywise, nightwise, starwise, earthwise, which were the ancient words for east, west, north, and south. Still what they were called in Learish.
It was desperation, she acknowledged, that brought her to this witch tree, desperation and a ridiculous spirit. Riot, her mother would say. Saints and wormshit, her mother was going to be furious Hal was gone from Lionis tonight, but it was the closest full moon to the equinox and every star priest and itinerant iconographer and even a royal historian she’d pinned down in the library agreed that the best time to reach the earth saints was at a full moon near one of the quarter marks. The historian had offered to show her an annotated list of encounters with earth saints, but Hal only had time to ask how often the human in question survived. It had been a discouragingly low percentage.
Hal needed this to work.
She needed help.
With a huff of effort, Lady Ianta shoved her way into the grove and planted fists on her fat hips. She tilted her face up to the highest crown of the elm. “Hello, friend,” the old knight said in a rumble, then yawned, showing her teeth and tongue. Ianta rolled her neck and took a skin of sack from her belt. She unstoppered it and dribbled some onto the dry earth at her toes. “What a night, Hal. Here is a taste for Saint Elegar, whose heart was found in six pieces, at six different trees in ancient Aremoria, all beating still.”
“Morbid,” Nova murmured.
“What do we do?” Hal asked Ianta, ignoring the other woman.
“Do what I do,” Ianta said. Hal followed her to the well, where Ianta leaned over and spat into the depths. Ianta waited for a long moment, staring down as if she might see her destiny at the base, or find a reflection of distant water. Her wide-brimmed hat shifted, and Ianta moved fast to catch it, then tossed it to the earth and shook her hair out. The voluminous silvering curls bounced.
Hal leaned over the rim of the well, too, and spat. They did not do this in Lionis, at the cathedral well, but she’d read about it. She glanced across the moonlit grove to Nova, who shrugged and remained leaning against a young oak near the path. A shift of her glance downward taught Hal the younger woman was nervous.
“Now, this.” Ianta carried herself to the north face of the elm. She handed Hal her skin of sack, then pulled from her pocket a bundle of leather she unwrapped to reveal a glass vial and a mound of dried petals. She scattered the petals and knelt upon the leather with a grunt. The knight’s hair turned to threads of moonlight and her round cheeks puffed as she took a deep breath, held it, then let it stream out in a long sigh.
She held out her hand for the sack, took a long drink, then opened the vial and poured out a dark line of liquid onto the roots of the tree. “Blessings, from one old bitch to another.” Ianta laughed. She put a palm to the elm’s trunk. “I ask you to hear the words of this sad friend, to keep me in health as much as I earn, that I may live to see Hal on the throne. I ask you keep Celeda strong, because that one always misjudged her friends, and she needs her strength for the next few years. All the stars cry foul and danger, and Celedrix is no star-ordained queen, to weather upheaval alone or well at all.”
Taking another drink, Ianta spat her sack onto the roots. “My waters and my heart, to yours. I ask you, saints of the earth, to be patient with your faithless country. There are still folk who remember you, even in the palace itself. Like this prince, who comes to ask you for blessings tonight, her virgin appeal. Be kind to her, and do not whisper to her of death: let her dreams be peaceful ones.”
“Ianta,” Hal whispered, overcome with affection and shame.
“Come here, Hal, and talk to her. Give her your hand, and your honest request.”
Feeling foolish, Hal knelt