Blood-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book I ]

38

"Did you find it?" was the first thing Rhea asked when she came into the cottage. Glimpsing the world outside for a moment, Mhera saw it was early evening already.

She sat up. Matei had gone to greet the old woman, and now he took a small object out of his pocket and held it up to the light. It was roughly the length of a man's finger, oblong, and smooth. It was the color of blood.

Mhera had seen something like it before. It took her a moment, but she was able to place the memories: the day she had gone to her uncle's council chamber to meet with him and his advisers, the archmage had had such a stone at the tip of his staff. And when she had gone into the dungeons, the ruby-colored eyes of the stone golems guarding the place had looked very much like it, too.

"And you?" Matei asked.

Rhea walked toward the table where the provisions were arranged and set a dun-colored satchel on the top. "I'll never feel good about borrowing that coin from Eddin," she said. "I don't know how I'll repay him."

"I'll repay him," Matei said. "In time."

"This should be large enough." Rhea opened the satchel and produced two tear-shaped objects from within, made of leather. Mhera had never seen such things before. "Water skins. Good ones. And boots. Mhera?"

The young woman slid out from under the blanket Matei had placed over her and stood up. She went to the kitchen and accepted the pair of boots from Rhea. They were of dark brown leather, already scuffed and worn, but sturdy. Mhera put them on the floor and braced a hand on the table so she could slide first one, then the other bandaged foot inside.

"Do they fit?" Matei asked.

"They do," Mhera said. "Thank you, Rhea."

Rhea had begun to pack the knife, the food, and all the other bits and pieces into the satchel. "I think it can all be made to fit in here, if we pack it right. Matei, will you fill the water skins?"

"Good long straps on them," Matei said, picking up the skins. Mhera watched as he passed easily out of the door.

Her first thought was that he had been pretending to be unable to leave her—pretending, so she'd trust him that this was a binding, not just an entrapment. But then she remembered that he'd gone to the well earlier that day. Could it be that he was safe because he meant only to go to that far and no farther?

"Is the stew ready, do you think?" Rhea asked.

Mhera said, "Well, Matei has sampled it with no complaint."

Rhea chuckled. "Some things never change, dear. Here; put this satchel on yon bench, and then help me set the table, won't you?"

As Matei filled the water skins outside, Rhea and Mhera set the table for their meal. Mhera herself brought the heavy pot over from the fire. Rhea ladled the steaming stew into bowls while Mhera poured milk. As they were finishing, Matei reentered the cottage. He paused on the threshold to theatrically sniff.

"Ah, Heaven," he said. He took the water skins over to the bench and set them next to the satchel.

They all sat down to the meal, but there was no conversation. Rhea hardly ate. She turned the same chunk of potato over in her bowl half a dozen times as Mhera watched under her lashes. Only Matei seemed to have a healthy appetite. Under the table, Mhera wiggled her toes, still getting used to the feel of the boots. She had never worn such shoes before. How would it be to walk in them, she wondered? And how far must she go?

"I won't know that you're safe when you get there," Rhea said.

"We will be safe," Matei said.

"But I won't know."

"When we reach Hanpe, I will send you a message through our people in the city. Through Eddin."

Rhea did not seem satisfied, but she nodded her head. "I did not tell him you were here, but I think he knew."

Matei smiled. "He's a good man. He likely had word from our friend in the palace."

Rhea did not pursue the line of conversation. Mhera wondered how much about her grandson's life she did not know. The old woman asked, "More stew?"

The rebel shook his head and pushed his empty bowl away. "Let us help you with the dishes, Grandmother, and then we must go. It is already later than I had hoped. If we make it as far as we must tonight, we are still not out of danger. Travel at night in the Duskwood ... I like it not."

Mhera stood up and collected their bowls; this time, she moved through the motions of cleaning up the meal with Rhea and Matei. It was easy work with the three of them. Too easy. Too quick. As Matei placed the last clean, dry dish on the shelf, Mhera watched him, her stomach knotted with fear and anxiety.

He paused for a moment to regard the neat stacks of dishes on the shelf, drying his hands on the cloth he held. Then he set the cloth aside.

"Time to go," he said, turning to look at Rhea.

The old woman's eyes were red-rimmed and glassy. "Very well; take your things."

"Come, Mhera." Matei beckoned. Mhera followed him to the bench. He handed her one of the water skins and slung the other over his shoulder. Mhera slipped the strap of the skin over her head so it hung from shoulder to hip. It was heavier than she'd expected.

Matei shouldered the pack with their provisions. Then he moved into the center of the room.

Mhera stood for a moment by the bench, her hands trembling, her palms sweating. She clenched her hands into her skirt.

Matei turned to look at her, raising his brows, waiting. In one hand, he held the bloodstone. It gleamed eerily, repulsively, in the firelight. Mhera forced her legs to move and went to him.

"Come and kiss me, Rhea," Matei said. He sounded uncannily calm, as if his mind were already somewhere far away. Rhea went to him and embraced him; they stood there, arms around one another, for a long time. Then, Rhea embraced Mhera. Her kiss on Mhera's cheek was as soft and dry as a falling leaf, there and gone.

"Take care, both of you," Rhea said. "May the Goddess guide you."

"May she light your waking hours," Mhera said. She did not know why she said it; only that she felt affection for this old woman who had shown her such kindness. And perhaps it was a prayer for herself, too. "And watch over your sleep."

"My heart is with you, Grandmother, no matter how far away I may be." Matei smiled at Rhea. Then he held out his hands to them both, palms up. His left hand was empty. In the right lay the bloodstone, glowing.

Rhea placed her right hand in Matei's left and offered Mhera her free hand. Mhera took it. Then, she gingerly placed her other hand over the bloodstone. She disliked the feel of it beneath her hand; it turned her stomach to touch it.

"Close your eyes, Mhera, and do not resist."

Heart hammering, Mhera closed her eyes. She felt her knees shaking and was sharply aware of the warmth of Matei's skin under her hands, the smooth feel of the stone. Rhea's hand, in contrast, was cool and soft. She wanted to pull away from both of them. She felt she could not breathe; terrified thoughts raced through her mind—memories of what Matei had done to her in the dungeon, and fears of what she would face in this place called Hanpe.

Breathe. Mhera sought calmness, pulling it over her mind like a shroud. She eased, breath by breath, into the liminal state of mind she had grown accustomed to seeking before her visions. It was her only recourse, the only way she could face what was about to happen.

She sensed Matei's body beginning to shake. His palm became hot and damp. His breaths were short and sharp.

Adrift in her mind, Mhera waited. She began to hear the roar of the wind; she felt it, the movement, whipping round her like a maelstrom. And when the magic finally reached into her body, greedily pulling her energy out through the veins of her wrists, she did not resist it.