I don’t glance down at poor Father Juniper, because the sight of his rigid body and shocked face still has the power to upset me. If only Cal were here.
If only Cal would come back.
Chapter Thirteen
Caledon
At this time of year, the ride to Baer Abbey is a hard one. The ground is either frozen and hard to negotiate, or thick with mud, so it’s even more difficult to make progress. Impatient Rhema learns the hard way that galloping can mean getting mired in the sludge, not to mention flecked from head to toe with dirt.
Rain starts to fall, so ice cold it’s almost sleet. The raindrops feel like pinpricks on Cal’s face, and even Rhema rides slowly with her head bowed.
When the path widens in a valley, Jander’s horse appears alongside Cal’s.
“A suggestion,” Jander shouts; the rain is loud, pelting against the grass and trees, bouncing off the horses’ backs. “We could turn at the end of the valley and stop at the cottage. They may have something we can use.”
Cal nods. It’s not a bad idea. The “cottage” Jander is talking about is the home of Lilac’s aunts, Moriah and Mesha, surrounded by their gardens and apiaries. The women may have a spell or potion of some sort for them, something that can help them at the abbey. Cal has a deep respect for Guild knowledge, and for the skills and intuition of the two women who raised Lilac.
“Lead the way,” Cal shouts to Jander, wincing as sharp rain stings his eyes. It’s too wet for further conversation, and Rhema follows Jander without question. She’s new to Renovia and doesn’t know the route they’re taking to the abbey.
Perhaps, he thinks, it might not be a bad idea to sleep on the straw of Moriah and Mesha’s barn tonight, rather than the damp ground. From here on there’ll be nothing but forests, gullies, and swamps.
Although he can’t see Jander’s face, Cal knows the boy will be murmuring an incantation, in case the couple has a protective spell surrounding their cottage and gardens. Mesha, whom he recently learned is his aunt and his mother’s younger sister, entrusted him with this Guild knowledge. Sometimes, Cal thinks, Jander’s more her apprentice than his.
Whatever Jander is chanting must be working, because it’s not long until a welcome sight emerges from the blur of gray: the gravel path winding to the little house deep in the forest, past lines of beehives and the orderly spread of garden beds, covered or tilled for the winter. Their cellars, Cal knows from memory, will be packed with dried herbs, sacks of potatoes and parsnips, dried meats and fruits.
“Where are we?” Rhema shouts, but Cal is already off his horse, throwing his hood back so the aunts can see his face.
“Cal!” Moriah is at the door, her smile wide and hair even more silver than the last time he saw her. “Come in, come in! Jander too! And . . .”
“Rhema Cartner, my new apprentice,” Cal tells Moriah, and doesn’t miss the look that passes over the older woman’s face. Something between surprise and suspicion.
After the horses are stabled, they all huddle in the cozy kitchen, drinking steaming cups of elderflower tea and enjoying cheese and bread and honey. Rhema gazes around her at the hanging dried herbs, at the bleached rabbit skull that sits by the basin.
“Aunt!” says Cal, still feeling shy, as he has not had family since his father’s death, but Mesha gives him a solid hug and puts him at ease. Mesha fusses around them, picking leaves and twigs from Rhema’s damp hair when she thinks Rhema isn’t looking. Mesha’s long braid may be almost white now, but she’s no little old lady. Neither of them is. They’re expert members of the Hearthstone Guild.
Jander looks even more pale and intense than usual, huddled over his tea. Though it was his idea to come here, Cal thinks, now that they’re all inside the cottage, the boy seems uncomfortable.
“Cartner, Cartner,” Moriah says to Rhema. “Any relation to Sarena Cartner?”
“My great-aunt,” Rhema says with a proud smile.
“Ah!” Mesha exclaims. “A great Guild member too. A woman of knowledge. She visited Serrone once some years ago, to share with us the wisdom of the mountain regions of Montrice. Very interesting. Quite a fighter in her day too, I understand.”
“She taught me,” Rhema says. “It’s because of her that I grew up wanting to be an assassin. I was always better at fighting than forest knowledge, but I do try