The Winter Prince (The Lion Hunters:01)(57)

“Brilliant,” I said. “Agravain, here we leave you.”

“How dare you!” Agravain said. He seemed suddenly as young as Lleu, and as desperate, about to be left alone in the wilderness in an unfamiliar land.

“I dare because I have drunk my fill of the queen of the Orcades,” I said vehemently. “You can go back to your mother and you can tell her that I am no longer her ward. Tell her





that I owe her nothing. Tell her that my treachery is of my own making. She drew me in and now I am up to my neck in it, but I am in it for myself and not as her minion.” I went to the horses, untied certain of the satchels and slung them over my shoulders, and then tied blankets and furs together in a bundle that I could carry on my back. “Take the horses, Agravain. We’ll walk.”

I took Lleu by the elbow and started up the road through the snow, leaving Agravain staring after us in puzzlement and anger. Now I was alone in the wasteland with my young brother, and we walked slowly north toward the higher hills; or toward home, or toward death, into the wind.





XIII


Aquae Arnemetiae




LLEU AND I WALKED without speaking, as we had for the last three days; except now our silence was mutual, shared, something that did not separate us but rather bound us together. The oppressive cold and silence never abated. Only the old road that we followed made the landscape different. Now and then the roof of a cottage or shepherd’s hut appeared huddled under the shadow of a low hill, or a stone wall marked off the boundary of a snow-covered field. Otherwise the barren white wasteland about us remained unaltered, the monotony of the moor unbroken.

But once Lleu stopped, astonished, staring at the blank road before him. He blinked and put a hand to his temple. “What was that?” he said.

I watched him, intrigued. “What do you think it was?” There had been no sound, no movement, no sudden shaft of sunlight.

“I thought—” He frowned, rubbing at his forehead. “It was a flash of color, across the road—a bird or butterfly, green and gold and scarlet. But it’s gone…” He hesitated, hearing the madness in his words. “You didn’t see.”

“No.” I touched his shoulder lightly to set him walking again.

We traveled seven or eight miles without stopping to rest. In the early afternoon the road led us down into a valley, to what had been the Roman city of Aquae Arnemetiae, a city of healing pools and mineral wells. The Roman baths lay crumbling into ruin now; the springs were beginning to break free of the shrines that had been built around them, though they ran clear and warm as they always had. The outer buildings of the old city lay as rubble, roofless and empty. But the heart of the town remained inhabited. On one of the streets that we passed through there was a public house with its door open, and from within, fragments of quiet conversation echoed in the street. I unslung the small black leather satchel that I carried and put a hand in, searching for the few coins I had brought with me. I said to Lleu, “Shall we eat here?”

He watched in horror and amazement as I drew my hand out of the bag. I saw the fear in his look, but could not understand it. Disturbed and puzzled, I said, “What is it? You can’t be afraid to take a meal among other people.”

Lleu whispered, “Why do you carry feathers in your bag?”

“Feathers?” I asked, speaking low, and feeling curiously fearful myself. “Feathers…,” I repeated slowly. “Where did you see them?”

We stood beneath the eaves of the low building, talking in quiet voices, as would any two traveling companions who might pass through the town and debate whether or not to take their midday meal in company of the townsmen.

“You shook them out of your satchel just now,” Lleu said. “Didn’t you? A handful of black feathers, like snowflakes of shadow, they fluttered from your fingers and scattered across the street—”

“Ai, God help you, Lleu,” I whispered. I stood a moment considering whether he had any idea of what was happening. Then I bent and reached down as though picking up some small thing near my boot, and held my hand before his face. “A feather like this one?”

“There’s nothing there,” Lleu said.

“Are you sure?” I slowly turned my hand.

His face betrayed him. “What did you see?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Lleu gasped quietly. “You’re not—holding anything.”