ASTRID WAS GLAD SHE did not mind the cold as she made it back to the Odenite camp, Knot at her side, an injured disciple in tow between them. Another disciple—Elessa—shivered beside them as they walked, pulling her cloak more tightly around her. The first snows would fall soon. The previous day had been sunny, but Astrid had a feeling in her bones it would be the last they would see for some time.
Cinzia rushed up to them as they approached. “Ocrestia! Is she…?”
“She’ll be fine,” Knot said.
“I can speak for myself, thank you very much,” Ocrestia said. “And he’s right,” she said with a sniff. “I’ll be fine.”
“What in the Sfaera happened?” Cinzia inspected the black-and-purple bruise that webbed out from Ocrestia’s left eye, and the accompanying wound on her cheek.
“You didn’t seem fine when that man hit you,” Astrid said. She turned back to Cinzia. “All she did was offer to heal a man’s family—they’re taken badly with the cough, so he said. And he just smacked her in the face! Knot stopped him.”
Cinzia’s face creased with concern. “Well, get something cold on it, and rest,” Cinzia told Ocrestia. “There’s some fresh water by our fire—clean the wound before you do anything else.”
The rest of the visitors to the city had reached the camp now, and Jane joined them. She wore a simple light-blue dress and a dark-blue cloak on her shoulders. Blue looked good on her; Astrid wondered why Jane did not wear it more often.
Two Prelates had also been injured in the altercation, and the Odenite group had been forced to move quickly out of the city before more Triahns ganged up on them.
“I think we must reconsider the benefits of going into the city, sister,” Cinzia said, when she heard that.
Jane, lips pursed, nodded reluctantly. “I think you may be right.”
“How could they have turned against us so quickly?” Ocrestia asked, nursing the wound on her head.
Cinzia frowned at the woman. “Didn’t I tell you to clean that wound? Go on, for your own sake! Plenty of rest and water for you. The last thing we need is you collapsing.”
Ocrestia grumbled something, but Elessa and Danica helped her off to find clean water.
When the three disciples were out of earshot, Astrid spoke. “Nobody’s said the most obvious thing.”
“But we’ve all considered it,” Jane said quietly. “Ocrestia is the only tiellan disciple, after all. Considering it was a tiellan army that attacked the Eye, we should not be surprised at the violence being directed at her.”
That was true enough. There were rumors of such things— tiellans being cornered, beaten, even killed, throughout the city. The disciples had even healed a few tiellans whose wounds looked nothing like those of the people injured in the Fall of the Eye. The Eye and the surrounding buildings had mostly been occupied by humans.
“There’s more to it than that,” Knot said.
Astrid glanced at him. “What’re you keeping from us, nomad?”
“Had a conversation with Code in the city today.”
Astrid looked at him out of the corner of her eye—an eye that was beginning to glow bright green now that the sun had set, but she paid it no mind, not even covering it with glamour. The Odenites knew who and what she was, by now. More or less, anyway. “When did you slip away for that?”
She’d hoped to draw a smirk out of him with that, or some kind of reaction, at least, but she got nothing. Knot had been completely stoic since the Fall of the Eye, and Astrid could not blame him. Not only for the shock of what had happened in Triah, but because of whatever had happened up on the cliffs as well. Knot had yet to talk to her about his encounter with Winter. Astrid imagined she’d have some apologizing to do— she hadn’t thought anyone could survive the collapse of the dome in Izet, but she hadn’t checked to be sure before she’d told Knot that Winter was dead.
“Rumors abound in the city about the Odenites,” Knot continued, ignoring Astrid. “Most of them connecting us to the Chaos Queen’s Rangers. Some people think we helped plan the attack.”
Cinzia gasped, and Jane grew pale. Astrid exhaled a puff of air, but she couldn’t say such news surprised her.
“But we helped heal people afterward,” Cinzia said. “How could they suspect us of planning it?”
“They think we’re in league with the Rangers, that we planned the attack so that we would have an excuse to demonstrate your ability to heal, and gain the favor of the people.”
“That is madness!”
“Canta told me she counseled against us healing people after the Fall,” Jane said. “She told me twice not to do it, but the third time I asked, she relented, and… this must have been why she forbade me from doing it.”
“But we did something good,” Cinzia said. “No matter what people think of it now, we helped people, Jane. Is that not good enough?”
“No,” Jane said. “I do not think it is. Canta has plans for us, here in Triah. And we may have set them back.”
Astrid snorted. “Can’t your Goddess just… fix it?”
Jane sighed. “Canta’s will shall come to pass, no matter the obstacles, no matter the human—or tiellan—interference. But we still have to overcome the immediate problem ourselves. We must discuss what to do about the tiellans, and about our apparent connection to them, at least in the minds of the Triahns.”
Astrid looked around them. “Might be best to do that in private, at least?”
Jane nodded. “Yes, you are right. Let us retire to our tent. We need to find a resolution for this problem as quickly as possible.”
* * *
The discussion lasted long into the night, with Elessa eventually joining them as well. The other disciples, exhausted from what healing they had been able to do that day, had retired to sleep.
It was just as well, Astrid figured. They needed to make a decision quickly, and the fewer disciples present to make that decision, the better. In her experience, if you got enough disciples together, they could take hours to decide whether to send one or two people out to fetch tea for the lot of them.
“Knot has already tried talking to Winter,” Cinzia said. “She would not see reason.”
Knot remained silent. While he’d said as much earlier, he didn’t seem to like the direction the conversation was going.
Astrid growled in frustration. “And at this point I doubt she will. But if we cut off the head of the snake…”
Jane, Cinzia, and Elessa stared at her. Knot looked away.
Of course he knew this was the only recourse.
“You mean… you want to assassinate her?” Cinzia asked slowly.
“It is the only option we have,” Astrid said, “if we want to end the problem the Rangers present for us. They’re putting a bad name on the tiellans, on a name we have worked so hard to protect. They—she, rather—killed thousands of people. She’s responsible for the persecution you face right now. Winter is unstable. She always has been. Think of Navone, of all the people killed and injured there. Think of the lies she told us, the destruction she’s wrought since she left Izet. This woman…” Astrid trailed off. She could not say any more; she knew the pain it caused Knot, and despite the fact that she was right, that Winter did deserve to die, she hated herself for proposing such a thing.
Cinzia’s response surprised Astrid. “Perhaps we should ask Ocrestia. As the only tiellan disciple, she would offer a perspective—”
“Ocrestia needs to heal, Cinzia,” Jane said. “And besides, as a disciple, her will is aligned with ours.”
Aligned with ours? What was Jane talking about? Cinzia and Jane were at odds all the time.
“Who are we to pronounce judgment on the Chaos Queen?” Elessa asked. “Is it not against Canta’s teachings? We should leave the judgment up to her.”
Cinzia shook her head slowly. “We cannot possibly be considering this. We know Winter. Or at least some of us do.”
If anyone would go along with this, Astrid thought, looking at Jane, it is you. As much as the Prophetess pretended to have some sort of moral code, to be inspired by Canta, the source of all morality for Oblivion’s sake, her morality seemed awfully malleable at times.
“I could do it,” Astrid said quietly. “I’d be the best candidate. I could slip through their camp at night, surprise her. She may be a powerful psimancer, but if I catch her by surprise, it will be over quickly.”
At least I would save Knot from having to kill Winter. He had once loved Winter—might still love her now.
Cinzia was still incredulous. “We cannot truly be considering this,” she said. “We cannot decide to kill someone just because they are making things difficult for us. This should not be news to any of you, but things have always been difficult for us. We have always seen our way through, overcoming every obstacle in our way.”
“Canta has always seen us through,” Jane said gently. “And Canta always provides a way.”
“If it is Canta’s will, then so be it,” Elessa said.
“Have all of you gone mad?” Cinzia asked. Astrid conveniently found the tent flap very interesting at that moment, not meeting her eyes.
“I’ll have no part in this,” Cinzia said. “And I cannot believe any of you would.” She swept out of the tent.
Elessa looked from Knot to Astrid, then excused herself quietly.
Jane remained for a moment. Astrid still felt the woman’s eyes on her.
“You two have a lot to talk about,” Jane said. “Knot, you are married to this woman. I know you still have feelings for her. You probably believe she can be saved. She cannot. I have seen it, Knot. Her continued existence will visit endless destruction upon the Sfaera.”
Knot’s face was hard, and he did not meet Jane’s eyes.
* * *
“I don’t think it’ll help to have the same argument again, nomad,” Astrid sighed, some hours later. She’d escaped their claustrophobic tent and Knot had found her sitting on a small boulder near the outskirts of the Odenite camp. “But don’t worry. I’m not going to kill her. Not while you don’t want me to. The Prophetess can go shove her face in a wasp’s nest, far as I’m concerned. You know Winter best; you know if this is really what needs to happen or not.”
With a jump, he lifted himself onto the boulder next to her. The sky above was starless, blanketed by nighttime clouds. A pale smudge on the horizon bespoke the moon’s position, but other than that the night was dark.
“It is,” Knot said, after an uncomfortable silence.
“It is what?”
Knot took a long, slow breath. “It is what needs to happen. You are right, Astrid.”
Astrid looked down, a heavy feeling growing in her gut.
“You’ve changed your mind, then?” He’d hardly been willing to engage with her at all on the subject, but he’d made it clear enough that he did not agree with the idea.
There was a part of her, she realized, that had wanted Knot to say no, to stop her from doing what she proposed. That had made her assassination idea seem safe. She wasn’t worried about killing Winter. The woman deserved it. She had meant everything she had said. Winter was a mass murderer.
She did worry, however, what it would do to Knot.
“It’s not that I want it to happen.” Knot hung his head, shaking it slowly. “I only just discovered she was alive.”
Astrid had the sense that something was wrong; the discomfort between them, the way Knot shook his head just now, something did not seem right.
“Are you all right, Knot?”
Knot’s face contorted in the darkness. “No,” he said, his voice gruff. “No, I’m not.”
Astrid edged closer to him. Of course something did not seem right; nothing seemed right.
She put an arm around him, resting her head on his arm. “I am so sorry,” she said. “Are you sure this is something you want me to do?”
“As sure as I can be,” Knot said, his voice barely a whisper.
“All right,” Astrid said. If Knot thought it would help, if he thought it was the right thing, she would trust him. That did not stop the heavy feeling in her gut increasing, swelling, until it seemed to fill her whole being with an immense weight.
“Do it tonight,” Knot said.
Astrid blinked, raising her head from his arm.
“Tonight?”
“The sooner the better. Get it done, Astrid. The sooner it’s done, the sooner we can…”
Heal? Move on? Deal with the next problem?
But Knot did not finish his sentence.
“Very well, nomad,” Astrid said, sliding down from the rock. She looked back at him hesitantly. He remained there, head hanging low, barely illuminated by the filtered moonlight. “I’ll see you when I see you.”
Then she swept off into the night, moving as quickly as her powers would allow.
* * *
Had anyone been around to see the aftermath of that conversation, this was what they would have seen:
A young girl, speeding through the forest, a dark streak with bright, glowing green eyes making her way to the Cliffs of Litori.
And a man, head bowed, sitting still on the stone. After a few moments, when the forest around was silent but for the chirp of crickets and the distant sound of the few Odenites still awake, chatting and singing at firesides, the man slid down from the rock, and moved into the forest.
It would be difficult to see what happened in the forest, given the darkness and the foliage cover, but anyone watching from a distance would have seen a man, average height, lean and muscular, features shadowed by darkness, trudge directly into the woods, neither searching for nor following a path, his boots crunching on leaves, twigs, and other detritus.
Moments passed.
Then, the crunching sound of boots on leaves and dead wood once more. The foliage parted, but the person who walked back into the clearing toward the Odenite camp was very different than the man who had walked out moments before.
A woman, hair long and the color of spun gold, tall, with bright, piercing blue eyes. She seemed to carry her own light with her, her features much more discernible than the man’s had been. Nothing like the glow of the young girl’s eyes, of course, but a soft, faint radiance, hardly noticeable except in contrast to the previous man’s dark form. She wore a simple, light blue dress, and a long dark blue cloak, the hood down around her shoulders.
“Canta forgive me,” the woman whispered, as she walked back toward the Odenite camp.
But, of course, there was no one around to hear it, or to see her, and the night was none the wiser.