La’tiera sat in the corner of one of the cots, her arms wrapped about her knees. The wagon rolled along, as it had for the past several hours.
After picking up the barrel, her discarded clothes and the bucket, Bentel and Tersa had gone, leaving the bent Lalu to watch over her as La’tiera stared at all of them in shock. Bentel returned after a short while, carrying another bucket and a small sack of potatoes.
Though the opportunity had been there, she hadn’t tried to escape, not fully trusting her limbs to act as they should and allow her to overpower the seemingly frail old woman. Instead, she’d decided to rest, to conserve her strength and wait for her body to become fully her own again.
She’d asked no more questions of her captors, Lalu’s previous answer too confusing. Besides, she was told none would be answered until some of the others were present. So, she sat quietly and watched Bentel peel potatoes, feeling Lalu’s eyes on her.
Despite herself, La’tiera was somewhat fascinated by Bentel as she hummed softly to herself, her knife moving at a constant rhythm, peeling the brown off each potato to reveal the white hidden underneath. Her hands never faltered when the wagon came to a rolling stop.
La’tiera stiffened.
Lalu stood up from their cot, pressing her hand against her back as if all the sitting had made her stiff. “Bentel, I’m going to speak to my son before he comes.”
“Allright, Lalu.”
The old woman glanced over at La’tiera with a half-smile before leaving the wagon.
“I’m sure you’re quite hungry by now,” said Bentel. “I’ll find something for you to hold you till lunch, once Rostocha comes in.”
La’tiera made no comment, though now that the subject had been brought up, her stomach gurgled emptily.
A minute or two later, there was a soft knock at the door. Bentel got up and opened it, lifting her bed up against the wall to make more room. Rostocha walked in, with Dal close behind him. The troupe’s leader was heftier than Dal but not large. He had a close-cropped beard and a friendly air about him, though La’tiera knew it wasn’t real.
Bentel then picked up her things, and with a slight wave aimed in La’tiera’s direction, she left, closing the door behind her.
La’tiera was left alone with the two men who’d kidnapped her.
She rose to her feet, feeling tense, and stood near the wall. She was startled when Rostocha dropped to one knee before her and bowed. Dal followed suit.
“Bearer, please allow me to introduce myself. I am Rostocha of the fifth tier of Watchers, son of Lalu and Nathan.” He lifted his head, his eyes seeking her surprised ones. “I earnestly apologize for our methods, but they were necessary. We needed to make sure we could take you safely from your prison to privately explain ourselves to you.”
He appeared earnest, but La’tiera didn’t believe him. “I don’t care to hear your explanations. I only want you to take me back where I belong.”
She tried to make her expression hard, though in truth she quivered inside.
Rostocha looked away. “I’m sorry, but that is not possible. Our world is in peril, and you are the key to our salvation. It is our duty to educate you, to keep you safe, until the time comes. Then, after the danger is past, if you still wish to return, we will do as you ask.”
“What lies!” She felt a flash of anger bring heat to her face. “If you honestly wanted the world to be saved you wouldn’t be making such promises to me.”
“La’tiera, what are you talking about?” Dal asked her.
She pierced him with a hard stare. “I could hardly choose to go back home once I was dead, could I?”
This brought him to his feet. “Dead? Why would you be dead?”
“Because it is required!”
Rostocha also stood, a look of comprehension dawning on his face. “You believe you have to be a sacrifice.”
Dal spun to stare first at him then at her. “What? That’s insane!”
His utter shock confused her.
“You expect to die? You were going to allow yourself to be killed?”
She had no idea what to make of the horrified expression on his face.
“Of course. I will do what is necessary, what I was chosen to do.”
“The Eye is not a mark of death!”
“Daltimoneus, enough!” Rostocha sent a hard look at the young man. “She’s obviously been taught differently from what the Gods intended. And the fact that the Eye itself has somehow been kept closed…We’ll have much to discuss later.”
“But—”
“Later!” Rostocha insisted, placing a large hand on Dal’s shoulder. “Her safety is our main concern right now, as well as ours. There’ll be time for explanations after that.”
“Yes, sir.” Dal stepped back, throwing a worried glance in La’tiera’s direction.
She understood none of this. Why would they be worried about her safety? She’d been perfectly safe before.
“Who are you people? Really?”
Rostocha gave her his full attention. “We are entertainers, for the most part. Yet within the entertainers’ guild there lies another. It is the Guild of the Watchers.” He paused for a moment. “Our sole purpose is to keep the knowledge of the Bearer and the Eye alive so that when the Time of Trial comes, he or she can be ready.
“Dal or I will be glad to explain more once the immediate danger is past. For now, the plan is for us to act normally—to hide in plain sight. We’ll be moving on to the village of Tryest and stay there a day or two as we normally would. Fortunately, the viscount’s own tales of a deformed daughter will work against him, and from what I understand very few know what you look like.”
La’tiera stared at the floor, feeling a touch of panic. He was right, no one knew what she looked like. The very stories told to protect her now would be used against her.
“Dal will stay with you until Bentel returns,” Rostocha told her. “It is a true honor to meet you, Bearer. Please allow the Eye to open and show you the truth.”
Still not looking up, she heard the door open and close as he left. She stepped over to the bed and sat down. There must be a way to get out of this.
Dal did nothing to disrupt the ensuing silence, but she could only too vividly feel his presence, making the wagon seem smaller than it was. She glanced in his direction, her gaze meeting his as he watched her from where he leaned against the wall close to the door. The moment their eyes met, he glanced away, looking uncomfortable.
“I will never forgive you, you know.” She felt a trickle of satisfaction as his face twitched at her words
“I regret that,” he said quietly. “But to save our world, I vowed long ago to do whatever it took.”
“Save it? You’re not saving it. By taking me you’re actually working to destroy it.”
“No, that’s not what we’re doing at all.” He pushed away from the wall, his eyes meeting hers again. “Since the time of the Pact our Order was given the task of finding and protecting the Bearer until the appointed time. We’ve helped keep the world from the demons for thousands of years, and with any luck, we’ll do it for thousands more.”
She shook her head. “Say what you will, but I will never believe you.”
This wasn’t exactly the truth, because she did want to believe some of it. If Dal was deluded and actually thought he was doing all this for her own good, it would mean he hadn’t truly betrayed her.
“Why? Why do you say never?”
“Because my uncle is not a liar. And believing anything you or the others say would make it so.”
Dal’s nostrils flared. “How can you be so sure he’s not? Why must we be the ones who are not telling the truth?”
La’tiera met him stare for stubborn stare, the answer totally obvious as far as she was concerned. “I know him, but I don’t know you. Would you believe it in my place?”
This brought him up short. A moment later, he shook his head. “It still doesn’t mean we’re wrong. Only that we will have to work to earn your trust and prove to you what we say is the truth.”
Before she could think of a suitable response, there was a knock at the door. Dal opened it a crack to check who was outside before opening it wide. Bentel came in, a bowl in one hand and a mug in the other.
“I’m sorry I took so long.”
Dal slipped behind the larger woman and, without another word, stepped outside. Moments later, La’tiera heard a bout of excited giggling.
“Ah, I’ve also brought a visitor.” Bentel set the bowl and mug close to her on the bed. “I hope you don’t mind, but she’s been so eager to see you.”
No sooner did the words leave her mouth than a redheaded blur skirted past her. She dived to scoop up the mug and bowl as Aya crashed into La’tiera, almost sending them both to the floor.
“La’tiera! La’tiera!”
The girl hugged her hard, and though breathing was difficult, it made her heart lighter to see a friendly face. The feeling didn’t last long as she recalled that Aya, just like Dal, had also betrayed her. She’d told her enemies where she could be found and how.
With stinging eyes, she gently but insistently pushed her back.
“You’re happy to be here, right? What do you think of the wagon? We saved you and everything and now you get to travel with us and everyone can have so much fun!”
“Aya, you promised.” Bentel tried setting the mug and bowl within La’tiera’s reach again.
The young sprite looked down at the floor, taking a small step back.
“Sorry. I forgot.” She backed away a little more, giving La’tiera a happy smile.
She didn’t look at either of them, grateful for Bentel’s interference. She didn’t know for certain how much Aya knew or understood, but either way things could not be as they had been.
“Please, miss, eat. You’ve had a very trying time and need to keep your strength up.”
La’tiera glanced at the dark bread, cheese and apple slices in the bowl and realized Bentel was right. She would need her strength, if only to figure out a way to get free and then make her way back home. She tentatively reached for an apple slice. As the sweet fruit hit her stomach, her appetite awoke with a loud rumble. She didn’t look at either of them as she reached for more.
The cheese was stronger than she was used to and the bread heavier and coarser, but both were still tasty in a foreign way. The watered wine, though, left much to be desired. As she ate, Aya kept up a drone of chatter, telling and showing her the different cubbyholes in the wagon and what they held. Some were filled with tattered books, but most contained all sorts of odds and ends—strips of cloth, small bells and other items they might use during a performance. A lower, semi-hidden alcove contained a bowl for private necessities. Aya showed her how to hook and unhook the beds and slide open the broad windows that would let in air high along the sides of the wagon, all of which were too small to try to sneak out through.
When she finished eating, she glanced over at Bentel, who was sitting back, relaxed, the storm that was Aya not affecting her in the least.
“What happens now?”
Bentel stood up to take her dishes. “We’ll continue on our way to Tryest. The Gods willing, they’ll want some entertainment and we’ll put on shows for them in exchange for money, food and supplies.”
La’tiera had asked the question on a number of levels. She wasn’t sure which she would get an answer to, but at least Bentel’s matched what she’d been told before.
“Can I stay here with you?” Aya asked eagerly. “We can play games, or you could read to me.”
She didn’t look at the girl as she answered. “I’m sorry, but I’m feeling rather tired right now.”
“Okay.” The disappointment was clear in her voice. “Maybe later, then?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you still mad?” The girl came close. “Why are you still mad? We saved you—you should be happy now.”
“Aya, don’t. You heard her say she was tired.”
La’tiera almost looked up at that, Bentel sounding strangely sad.
“She’s going to need time to understand things.”
“But—”
“Come along. Leave her be, dear.”
Once they left, La’tiera stretched out on the bed, her face to the wall. She made no move to see who took Bentel’s place as her guard changed.