“This way!” Toward them galloped a pair of soldiers in shining mail. “Prince Aerax! Councilors! This way!”
She knew the soldiers—Joha and Nil. Because she had no wish to fight with them, Lizzan raised the hood of her cloak, which had faded nearly to white on the journey from Radreh. Riding slightly behind Aerax, she slowed her mount as the soldiers fell in beside Lady Junica.
“What has happened here, soldier?”
“A demon came. No blade could harm him, no fire, no bludgeon. The king ordered us to evacuate the people and he retreated to the crystal palace with his guard. He is there now under siege, while we are under siege from these beasts,” said Joha, his gaze searching behind them. “Does the Krimathean army follow you, my lady?”
“They have taken the plains road north. They will not arrive for another full turn of the moon.”
Despair crossed the soldier’s face. “We are near out of food. Whenever a group leaves to hunt and forage, only half their number return. We send out all the fishing boats we have, but they do not catch enough for everyone.”
“We have brought friends who can help with the bramble beasts,” said Lady Junica, gesturing to where the bison was but a smoldering pile on the ground. “But let us get inside that wall before another beast begs for a demonstration.”
Together they rode past the gates, into air thickened with the scent of smoked fish and the stench of waste.
Lady Junica looked to Aerax. “This is not what we expected to find.”
“If the king still holds the palace, this is better than what we expected to find,” Aerax said. “But let us gather what information we can and meet at . . .” His eyes met Lizzan’s before he looked to Nil. “Where will I find Yuna or Farzan, both of Lightgale?”
“Lightgale—” Nil’s gaze narrowed on Lizzan before flaring wide with rage.
“Do not say what comes to your tongue, soldier,” Degg snapped. “Answer the prince.”
A muscle ticced in his jaw before he tore his gaze from Lizzan and settled on Aerax again. “They are likely at the far south wall.”
“Your Highness,” Degg added pointedly.
“Your Highness,” the soldier gritted out, but no care would Aerax have for what the soldier thought, Lizzan knew, and had already turned away from him.
“We will meet there,” Aerax said to the councilors, then shifted in his saddle to glance back at Kelir.
“We will find you by asking where your cat went,” said the warrior, his shoulders covered by a light fur. No more did the Parsatheans wear only their linens, for though it was near midsummer, each day was colder than the one before—and it was often midday before they could no longer see each breath they exhaled. “First we will discover what are the defenses in this camp.”
Aerax nodded. Quickly Lizzan urged her horse south with Aerax riding beside her, Caeb trailing behind. The expressions of everyone they passed seemed etched with misery, until they saw Aerax. Then hope erased the lines of despair on their faces, and joyously they called out to each other that the Krimathean army had come at last.
Throat tight and hood up, Lizzan said nothing. As they neared the south wall, Caeb loped ahead along the muddied path to search for her mother’s scent. The tents in this area were not so tightly packed together, but only because here were the people that most of Koth did not want to see or hear or be near.
Caeb stopped before a large tent that seemed as if two had been stitched together. Heart thundering, Lizzan dismounted and then looked to Aerax when he said, “I’ll tend to your horse. Go on.”
The finest of all men. Swiftly she kissed him and then hurried to the tent’s flap. Inside the air was warm and redolent with the scent of medicinal herbs, a fragrance that always powerfully reminded Lizzan of her mother’s parents, and of days spent in their healers’ chambers.
The tent was divided by a sheet of bark that had been flattened and pieced together with string—separating a healer’s space from the living space, Lizzan realized.
Her mother bustled in from the living space, her black hair simply braided, her tunic clean but her features thin and tired. Still her voice was as strong and brisk as always when she began, “My son is away, attending to a birth—but if your ailment is simple, I can likely treat it for you. Otherwise, give to me your . .