and had quite got over their nervousness, if not their awe.
‘Mistress?’
Legana looked up at the broad woman bathed in warm orange light. She recognised the voice of the innkeeper’s wife, a woman as respectful towards her as if Legana were the greatest witch in the west.
‘I thought you might like a cup of tannay,’ she said timidly, offering a small brass goblet. Legana smiled, and sensed the woman’s relief.
Quickly Legana wrote — Thank you on her slate and held it up before accepting the goblet. The local spirit was served warm to bring out the flavour.
‘You’ve brought us enough trade in recent weeks,’ the landlady said. ‘Your guests all come to the inn, and never a word of trouble no matter how much they drink — and whatever Unmen Poller says at High Reverence, the wisewomen say you’ve frightened off every bad spirit for miles. It seemed only right to fetch you a cup in thanks. My ma always said tannay should be drunk with a spring sunset.’
Legana sipped the drink and felt its warmth spread down her throat. She’d tried other people’s tannay since she’d arrived at Kamfer’s Ford, enough to tell this was the finest yet. A smile spread over her face and she gestured to the other side of the bench, inviting the woman to join her.
‘Oh I wouldn’t want to disturb you . . .’
Legana gave a dismissive wave of the hand and the woman tailed off. The divine spark was strong enough inside Legana that when she gestured again the woman sat immediately.
— I am Legana.
‘Nanter Kassai,’ came the hurried response. ‘Mistress Legana, may I . . . may I ask you a question?’
Legana inclined her head and shifted in her seat to look Nanter in the face, who faltered at the sight of her gleaming emerald eyes.
Nanter had short auburn hair and a button nose that seemed out of proportion with the rest of her face. She cleared her throat and looked down. ‘I was just wondering, why d’you sit here every evening? I don’t mean to pry, Mistress Legana, but the women who travel here, they come at all times, but we never see you save at sunset.’
Legana considered the question a while, chalk in her hand. Eventually she began to write.
— Do you remember the girl you once were?
Nanter smiled encouragingly.
— This is how I do it.
Nanter looked a little puzzled by the statement, but it was as simple as Legana could make it. At twilight the Gods withdrew from the Land and the part of her that was divine became a shade muted. The sounds of everyday life around her reminded Legana of what it was to be alive, while the sinking sun was a memorial to the Goddess she had lost.
Whether pious or merely conditioned to the routines and rituals, every devotee of the Lady had lost something of herself when the family that raised her had been broken. Some would not want another to take its place, but Legana was sure many would be glad of anything she had to offer. Most people craved belonging of one sort or another. While Legana had spoken her prayers through rote rather than joy, she had still been glad to work — even to bleed — in the service of her family.
‘Mistress, do you know how many there are of you left?’ Nanter asked quietly, terrified of prying, despite Legana’s invitation for her to sit.
Legana shook her head. She had been unable to reach the minds of any devotee beyond those she had brought to Kamfer’s Ford — two dozen now. She could feel them out there, glowing in her mind like candles in the fog. Those that had come at her call said they felt something in the night and been curious enough to investigate, which told Legana her efforts might at least serve as a beacon to those touched by the Lady.
Less happily, the newcomers had also brought tales of fanatical clerics turning on Fate’s priestesses. Some had already been burned, amidst rumours that Fate had been cut down by Death and her followers were now heretics.
‘How did it happen?’ Nanter whispered. ‘Did you feel it?’
Legana’s hand trembled as her body remembered the beating it had received the night Aracnan killed the Lady.
— I felt it, she wrote hesitantly. I saw her murder.
‘Who would do such a thing?’ Nanter’s face was white.
— A daemon with the face of a child.
Nanter shivered. ‘Will it be hunting you?’
Legana shook her head. —