laugh. “But now I will have my rest. Nothing is left to do but to sit here and wait for the end.”
For the Destroyer’s return—or her son’s. “That might be several years hence. If you stay here, how will you fend for yourself until then?”
“For nearly a full turn of the moon, I have been here.” She gestured to the fishing line. “Always the river provides.”
Perhaps it could provide more. “Become the ferrymaster,” Lizzan suggested. “Then no one will ever have to wait for the boat—and you could earn bread or coin in trade.”
“So that it might be stolen from me?” Shaking her head, the woman said, “I fare well enough under Vela’s protection.”
“Does that goddess protect you?”
“I believe she must. When I first began following, I had thoughts of taking the red cloak if I might have the reward of seeing my son again. But all of her temples had been razed, and her oracles and priestesses killed, so never could I ask for a quest. Yet I believe she still heard my prayers. Vela protects those who quest for her on their journey, and I have been hungry, cold, afraid . . . yet never suffered again as I did at the hands of the Destroyer’s army. So I also believe that I will have my reward and see my son again. Even if it is only after silver-fingered Rani carries us both into the mercy of Temra’s arms—or when my son sees me here so near to my home, as if I’d never left to search for him, and he strikes me down as the villain who abandoned him.”
“You are no villain,” said Lizzan fiercely. “And I will make certain your son knows it. At every village and tavern I will tell the story of a woman waiting by a river. By the time the Destroyer arrives, so many will have heard and retold your tale that it will reach your son’s ears. What name does he know you by, so that he will stop to listen?”
Both laughter and moisture gleamed in the woman’s eyes. “He would only know me by ‘Mother.’”
“Oh.” That name was not so unusual. “What is his?”
“Ilris.”
“So it will be, then. Everywhere I go, I will tell the story of Ilris’s mother. Word will spread, for I am always upon the road.” Lizzan gave her a wry look before adding, “And I frequent many taverns.”
The woman huffed a quiet laugh before wiping her eyes. “I do not know if Ilris will hear, but I thank you for your kindness.” Her gaze slipped over Lizzan’s face, a frown creasing her brow. “Why are you always upon the road? You are not returning home to Koth? I assumed you head there now.”
“How do you know I am from Koth?”
“Your hair is a Kothan soldier’s—very long at the crown, shaved on the sides—though grown out. How much time has passed since the sides were last cut?”
“Two winters,” Lizzan said thickly. She could now tuck those hairs behind her ears. But she could not trim it all to a matching length. She needed the long strands to cover her scars.
“And your mail tunic. Koth’s emblem is gone, but in all my travels, I have rarely seen any armor as fine as Kothan mail.” Her eyes closed. “And I will never forget the first time I saw it—after the Destroyer had passed through this land, and your Kothan soldiers rode out from their island in their shining armor that had not seen a single battle. They came upon our group of followers and asked if we needed help. Some of us screamed at their captain that the time to help had been when the Destroyer was here, but instead of fighting, the Kothans had hidden away in their crystal palace and let their god protect them.”
That was truth, and it wasn’t. The Kothans hadn’t known the Destroyer would spare their island, so they had shored up their defenses and prepared for a siege—just as every other realm had. But it was also true that Kothan soldiers had not ventured out until the Destroyer had left the western realms.
Lizzan’s father had been one of those soldiers. And he had described to her the destruction he’d seen, and the guilt and relief he’d known that Koth was spared when no one else was. But by the time Lizzan was old enough to hear his tale, most of Koth seemed racked by neither guilt nor relief. Instead many believed that it