Song of Blood & Stone (Earthsinger Chronicles #1)(22)
“We can just wait here for the storm to end,” Jack said, his warm breath on her ear pulling her back from the edge of panic. She focused on him, his arm around her, the strength in his body now that he was no longer in pain. He was a solid thing to hold on to, and she leaned into his sturdy chest. “I think these Lagrimari are Keepers of the Promise. Rebels against the True Father.”
Her breathing eased, allowing his words to sink in. “They’ve crossed the Mantle . . . How? Why?”
He shook his head. “Perhaps they knew of the cracks. As to why . . .”
Off to the right, another tunnel was lit by a flickering fire. Voices buzzed from within. Jack grew quiet as they approached and paused at the entry to the small cave. A well-tended fire roared in the center, sleeping packs spiraling out from it. A handful of careworn women, each huddled with a small child or two, looked up at her. Osar sat with a slightly older girl near the fire. Rozyl and the others from outside stood grouped together in the corner, hovering over Gerda who sat on the ground with two other elders.
“Come,” Gerda called, her voice cracked. “No use skulking about in the corridors.”
Jasminda surveyed the two-dozen Lagrimari and approached. She had never seen so many people who looked like her in the same place. But each face she peered into held a sort of quiet desperation, a somberness that hinted at a life of struggle. Except for Rozyl’s. She merely glared. Jasminda set her jaw and glared back, unsure as to the source of the hostility. The woman’s gaze dropped to Jack’s arm around her shoulder, and Jasminda tensed. He was the only Elsiran here.
“Have a seat,” Gerda said.
Jasminda eyed the ground suspiciously but had little choice unless she wanted to stand for the foreseeable future. They settled on the ground in front of the elders, but Jack kept his body turned to the side, continually scanning the room. Rozyl and her crew moved a few metres away.
“This is Turwig ol-Matigor and Lyngar ol-Grimor.” Gerda pointed to the old men.
“You are Keepers of the Promise?” Jack asked with a sidelong glance.
“We are,” Gerda said. Rozyl groaned.
“Did you know my father, as well?” Jasminda asked the men. A look passed between them that she couldn’t decipher.
“It was many years ago, child. I can hardly recall,” said Turwig, whose kind face held a grandfatherly quality.
The one called Lyngar had deep lines etched into his face, his perpetual scowl making her wonder if he was related to Rozyl. “I can. He was a scoundrel. He abandoned his regiment. Unforgivable!”
Jasminda tensed and focused on the unpleasant man. “He was captured in the Sixth Breach. A prisoner of war.” She forced the words out through clenched teeth.
“Is that what he told you?” Lyngar snorted. Gerda shot him a murderous glare, and he looked away, not exactly chastened, more like he’d grown bored with the conversation.
“He journeyed to the World After two years ago along with my brothers . . . to join my mother, who was Elsiran.” She said the last as a challenge, to see how he would react. Lyngar’s head whipped toward her before his gaze shot to Jack.
“So that is why you cavort with them.”
Jasminda moved to stand, wishing she could throttle the old man or, at the very least, get away from him. Jack’s hand on her arm stilled her, and she sat stewing in rage. The fire was either far too hot or her blood was boiling.
“Why have you brought these people across the Mantle?” Jack said, motioning to the women and children in the center of the room.
“It will fall soon,” Gerda said simply.
“Yes, and the Elsiran side will be no safer than Lagrimar if the True Father makes it across.”
Gerda and the old men shared another meaning-laden glance. Rozyl stalked up, towering over the seated group. Her face was taut as she stared at Gerda, pleading silently. Whatever was going on, it was obvious Rozyl did not want Jasminda or Jack to know about it.
Gerda held up a hand to wave Rozyl off. “Life in Lagrimar has become unbearable. That is why we’ve come. To seek better lives for these young ones.”
“Better lives like those in the settlements?” Jasminda scoffed. “There are no better lives for those who look like us here. Those who can sing. There will be no welcoming party for you. In fact, I would be surprised if they don’t send you right back the way you came.”
“They would not do that.” Jack’s voice was grim. “It is the Prince Regent’s duty to protect all within the borders of Elsira. He is honor bound.”
Jack had not suffered the stares and cutting remarks. The bad trades and cheating merchants. The young mother screaming. The insult grol witch uttered over and over.
Jasminda reached out for Gerda’s gnarled hand. “I do not think it will be a good place for the children. I do not think they will be safe there.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Jack’s jaw tighten, but he stayed quiet.
“You have never been to Lagrimar, have you, girl?” Gerda said.
Jasminda shook her head.
“Of course not, for you seem to believe they were safe back there.” Her voice was kind but stern. Admonishing her ignorance. Jasminda turned toward the gaunt and hollow expressions of the mothers, the wordless appeals in the eyes of the children. They clung to each other like lifelines in a raging storm.