Nor did she tell Hal or the women of Deep Moor about her plan, not even Rose. She claimed she had broken a bowl, and cut her palms on the shards. She avoided Baron Köthen, which was not difficult, as he mostly stayed in the room Rose had given him and sulked, while Captain Wender lounged patiently outside his door. Hal labored in the winter farmstead alongside the others, insisting he must do the work of three.
But, with trepidation, Erde did tell the dragons. To her surprise, they approved, as Earth worked his healing magic with her hands. The next day, N’Doch and Water spent hours together working up the details of the image that had gripped him just as he returned to consciousness from his dragon-made resurrection. Details of the burning land he just knew was where they were meant to go next. That N’Doch had volunteered this vision, he who hated any implication that he was tied to a dragon guide’s destiny, this very act convinced Erde of the vision’s truth. The dragons required no convincing. They were impatient to be off.
Quietly, the four prepared for their departure, soliciting from Margit a strong, stout knife for N’Doch to complement the slim dagger Erde had carried since fleeing Tor Alte. From the weavers, they gathered several thin linen tunics and leggings, advised by N’Doch as the best clothing for the hot climate he’d be taking them to. Lily made them footwear, laughing at the absurdity of sandals in deep winter. Doritt found them sturdy packs and equipped them with flint and tinder, and wax-stoppered water jugs and bread and cheese. N’Doch grumbled about the weight of all these things. He suggested that they should pay a stop off visit to, as he put it, his “home time,” to exchange the heavy crockery for a lighter container he called “plastic.” Erde recalled the milky, flexible jug he’d carried water in, and thought it might be a good idea. But the dragons said no. She thought they seemed nervous about letting N’Doch go home, though they said it was only because they were in so much of a hurry. Besides, they were unsure how many of these provisions would make it through the veil anyway. Objects seemed to translate well enough if Earth specifically pictured them along with the person carrying them, but if it could not be easily carried, there was no point in trying to take it with them.
Erde warned N’Doch to keep his pack nearby at all times, or at least to know exactly where it was. They made no farewells, only tacit ones. The women knew they were leaving some time soon, and knew as well that they might—at any future moment—return without warning. Erde had given no notice at all when she and Earth had left on the journey that had led them to Water and N’Doch. She’d simply disappeared.
Therefore, it was just as well, when she heard shouting from the horse barn, men’s voices raised in anger, and saw Doritt and Margit grab up the nearest heavy tool and head that way. It was just as well that the four were ready.
Instinct warned her. Breaking into a run, Erde turned her senses inward to locate the other three. Earth was outside the cow shed with Linden, helping to heal a sick calf. N’Doch and Water-as-Sedou were hard at work in the farmhouse library, the only quiet place. Erde made it to the barn just after Doritt and Margit. Flinging herself through the open doorway, she nearly crashed into Doritt, bending beside Captain Wender, who was sprawled facedown in the scatter of manure and straw.
She slowed. “Is he . . .?”
“Out cold,” said Doritt. “But coming around.”
Wender groaned. Erde stopped worrying and moved on. Farther down, past the line of stalls, Margit had pulled up behind Raven and Rose. The three women watched breathlessly while in the open space at the end of the barn, Köthen and Hal circled each other, snarling. Hal had his sword at the ready, Köthen gripped a long-handled scythe used for harvesting grain. Already, both men were bruised and straw-dusted, as if this altercation had begun with mere fists and arms, and escalated toward full-scale weaponry. Hal bled from a long shallow slice on his thigh. The shouting Erde had heard halfway across the farmstead had been replaced by silence, and the shuffling of straw and heavy breathing. Gone well beyond words, the two men glared at each other like maddened dogs, glared and circled, glared and circled.
Erde halted beside Rose. “Oh, no! What now?”
“Dolph has refused to stay with us when Heinrich returns to the war.”
The furrows in Rose’s brow told Erde this was no ordinary skirmish. “But he gave his word.”
“Apparently he’s changed his mind.”
The men’s edgy dance brought Köthen’s back around full circle toward the women. Rose moved a step aside. Margit shifted to ease up behind him. She had a length of rope twisted between her fists.
“Back!” Köthen growled, with a warning sidearm swipe of his scythe. Margit leaped aside and retreated.
“Dolph,” said Rose. “Be reasonable . . .”
“Leave it, Rose! Reason has nothing to do with it!”
“How is this going to solve anything?”
“I will not, NOT be put out to pasture like some . . . broken mule!”
“You will if you behave like one!” Hal was winded. His chest heaved convulsively, making the difference in the two men’s ages terrifyingly apparent. But his manner was as fierce and implacable as Erde had ever seen it. “You’ll do as I say, if I have to chain you to a rock!”
No, Sir Hal, she told him silently. Don’t you see this man will go mad if you chain him, either physically or within his soul? Now she was sure that her plan was the right one.
“Will you?” Köthen yelled. “Just try it, then! No one here but women, old man! You think you can take me?” Suddenly he closed the distance between them, stepping within range of the older man’s sword. He lifted the scythe to swing it like a club, then held it there for a long and frozen moment, exposing the entire front of his body to Hal’s attack. “Cut me down where I stand, my knight! Do it, or I’ll kill you, I swear I will!”
“Your chance for that has passed!” Hal spat. But his sword did not move.
“Is it?” Köthen cocked back the scythe and swung it wide. His aim was vengeful and true. It missed Hal’s belly by a hairsbreadth, then swept his sword from his hand and flung it clattering into the stalls. Erde breathed a split-second’s prayer. He would kill or be killed. He was, as Hal had said, beyond reason. She must do it now, or it would be too late.
She threw her heavy wool-and-leather coat to the floor, then sprang past Rose’s restraining arm and ducked the long blade as it whistled past on its second vicious arc.
“No! You mustn’t!”
She lunged and grabbed the scythe handle. The angry momentum of Köthen’s swing jerked her hard off-balance and dragged her across the floor. Horrified, Hal drew his dagger but backed away. Köthen did not. He hauled on the scythe handle, sending Erde tumbling toward him. He caught her deftly with his free arm, twisted her around, and pinned her to his chest with the scythe blade at her throat.
“Foolish child,” he muttered.
We shall see about that, thought Erde, amazed that she was not afraid.
“What are you . . . no!” Hal lowered his blade. “As a man of honor, Adolphus, let the girl go.”
“I have no honor, my knight. You’ve made that ever so clear to me.”
“I never meant . . .”
“No. Stay where you are if you wish this girl alive tomorrow.”
“You’d never . . .”
“I would! I will! Why shouldn’t I? You’ve left me nothing else. It’s your word I’ll need now. Safe passage out of here, Heinrich, on your honor, in exchange for her life.”
But Erde caught Hal’s worried look, shook her head once, and smiled. “It’s all right. We’re taking him with us.”
Hal’s eyes widened. “Now?”
She nodded as best she could, with a blade at her neck the length of a man’s arm. She reached for her companions in her mind, and found each waiting: one, two, three. Then she turned her head sideways against her captor’s chest! “My lord of Köthen, prepare yourself for a journey.”
Köthen said, “What?”
And the dragons took them both.