her to look after Krimathe while on your quest, this was a matter too grave and too important to decide without your knowing. So she asked Shim to find you.”
The Hanani stallion—Shim. And the red-cloaked woman was called Laina.
“What is too important?” Lizzan asked.
The woman gave her an odd glance. Perhaps because Lizzan had just spoken for a queen who was not even her queen. But Lizzan had already begun with the horse, so she might as well continue now.
Then the woman’s lips rounded and she turned to Laina again. “Ah! I have forgotten you cannot talk.” She snorted. “Has it been difficult?”
A withering glare was Laina’s answer.
“The path is never easy.” The woman recited what was often said of quests, but with a snicker instead of solemnity. “And the matter of importance is an alliance with these southerners, who wish to unite all of the western realms and stand against the Destroyer.”
Lizzan sucked in a breath. She had just spoken of that alliance with Mevida. But she also thought one in the north was impossible.
“Blackmoor has already joined. Your cousin did not want me to tell you so, because she didn’t want to sway your decision. But I will attempt to sway it,” the woman said with a faint grin that quickly turned grim. “Because if Vela abandons us again, your quest might be of little help. But more warriors will be. If we can trust them.”
Laina frowned at her.
The woman sighed. “They have not given reason to distrust them. These Parsathean warriors seem honorable, as do the other southerners who travel with them. But all that we have ever heard of Parsatheans is that they are raiders and thieves. And it is hard not to look to the past.”
When Lith had promised an alliance, too—and then betrayed them.
“The path is never easy,” the woman said again. This time, without the jest.
Sheer frustration pulled at Laina’s expression as she gazed down the road toward the Parsatheans. Not only because she couldn’t speak, Lizzan imagined. But because she might risk her people with a decision hastily made in the middle of a road. Yet she couldn’t abandon her quest and return to Krimathe, taking as much time as the weighty decision deserved.
A weightier decision than a mere soldier would ever make. So this time Lizzan was more circumspect when she broke in with, “If you will allow it, I have a suggestion.”
Eyes narrowing, Laina studied her face for a long moment before nodding.
“I have known Parsatheans in my own trade. I have seen them guard a noble’s caravan, and when finished with the job, seek out a rich merchant to raid. They are warriors who pride themselves on their honesty and never breaking an oath . . . yet also lament that the Parsatheans who still live on the Burning Plains have turned away from raiding in order to make allies of their neighbors.” Lizzan spread her hands. “If the Parsatheans who seek an alliance now are the lamented ones from the Burning Plains, then they might be trusted. And for certain they will keep any vow they make.”
Laina nodded thoughtfully. Likely wondering what sort of promise she could extract from them that would best suit Krimathe.
But Lizzan was not done. “At the speed the caravan travels, Oana lies only one or two days hence. Tell them that you will meet them there to discuss the alliance, instead, for the road is no place to do it. Suggest to them that they ride ahead and enjoy the baths, for you cannot abandon the caravan when bandits might attack it. If they stay to help you protect the caravan, how will they treat the people who travel with you at this slow pace? If they ride ahead to the bathhouses, seeking their own rest and pleasure, will they treat the servants and the sick with care? You will be a queen, and they need something from you, so they will present to you their prettiest manners. But more time will help you judge whether they truly care about the citizens of other realms, or if they only seek an alliance to save their own skins.”
Laina and the other woman exchanged a glance, then seemed to come to quick and mutual agreement.
“I will tell them that,” the woman said, lips pursing as she gave Lizzan another long look. “You know this road?”
“I have passed this way a few times.”
“Where is your home?”
“I have no home.” Lizzan’s throat tightened, and she would not