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Soterius staggered, and fell more than sat on the remnant of the garden wall.
"Anyon said that as your father lay dying, the soldiers told him that you were a traitor, that you had helped to kill King Bricen and then fled like a coward."
Soterius closed his eyes for a moment, unable to speak. It was Mikhail who broke the silence. "Is that what you still believe?" the uayash mom asked. He released Da
Da
"I've known Ban since we were boys. I feared he might die for the king, but betray him—never." He took a heaving breath that shook his large form. "Since then, since Jared took the throne, we heard rumors... that Prince Martris survived, that he was spirited out of the palace, that his friends had gotten him to safety. I wanted to believe that. I wanted to believe you saved the prince, and that he might return. But seeing you, here, alive—you didn't see how they died, Ban. You didn't have to bury them. You didn't have to bury them." He covered his face with his hands.
"Tris and I saw Jared stab Bricen," Soterius said tonelessly. "We had climbed down the outside wall, trying to break into Arontala's workshop. We saw the king die. We found Serae—and Kait—dead by the sword. It was all Carroway and I could do to get Tris out of there alive. Harrtuck joined us, and we headed east." The full moon cast blue shadows across the ice-covered landscape. He was so chilled by the cold and so numb from grief that the words seemed to belong to someone else. "That's why I'm here. To help Tris take back the throne. To bring Jared to account. To destroy Arontala."
"Can he do it?" Da
"He's a Summoner, Da
"Perhaps he does," Da
"Accepted. But first," Soterius said, "first, show me where they're buried. Please."
Da
Soterius and Mikhail followed Da
"We did the best we could, the three of us," Da
"I'm so sorry," Soteiius said.
"I don't mind the cold, but perhaps we should take shelter or you may have your wish," Mikhail said gently. Soterius struggled to his feet, following silently as Da
Inside were a man in his third decade and a boy who looked about five years younger than Soterius. They looked up as Da
This time, it was Da
The kitchen house was filled with the remnants of what could be salvaged from the manor, bits of charred furniture, cookware, a few books that still smelled of smoke, and lanterns. Pieces of heavy tapestries covered the windows, keeping any passers-by from seeing the light within.
"We've made do off the land," Anyon said, setting a piece of roasted venison and some leeks in front of Soterius, along with a wineskin. Mikhail raised a hand to forestall a similar offer. "Deer and game from the forest, some fish from the stream, and what was left in the fields that didn't burn. Some of the stores in the cellars weren't ruined, so we've had wine and dried fruit and cheese. Enough to get by."
"What will you do, now that it's almost planting season?" Soterius asked.
Da
"There isn't a future, until Martris Drayke holds the throne," Soterius said. "Maybe after that, I can think about it. But I'm oath-bound to raise rebellion against Jared. That has to come before anything else."
Da
"I have a suggestion of a place that might be ideal for a base camp, if you dare," Mikhail said. He gratefully accepted a tankard of deer's blood, which Anyon had drained from the carcass hanging at the back of the kitchen. "The Carroway manor house, Gly
"The plague house? Are you mad?" Coalan exclaimed.
Mikhail held up a hand. "The ill humours that caused the plague have long since gone. Mortal squatters and vagrants have taken refuge there over the years with no ill effects. Some of my kind, out of friendship with Lord Carroway, chased off the squatters and cleaned out the manor, burning the bodies and their intimate goods that might have carried plague. While it's not as it once was, it's habitable and in much better shape than Huntwood. And as you say, even those living nearby stay clear. So we may be spared the interest of passing soldiers."
Soterius struggled to focus on Mikhail's words, using all of his battle training to center on the task at hand, and step back from the grief that threatened to overwhelm him. "If we can survive there without taking sick, it might be perfect," Soterius agreed. He looked to Da
Da
"Nor I," swore Anyon, straightening. "There's vengeance due."
"Count me in," said Coalan. Soterius started to object that his nephew, only fifteen summers old, was too young for battle. But the look in Coalan's eyes, the anger and pain and loss that Soterius saw there, silenced his objections.