Page 37 of Weaving Winter

“Well, my bird has found his way home. With friends, no less.” She stood back, opening the door wider. “Come in, be at peace, and cause no harm.”

As we walked through the door, my arm hairs stood on end, and it felt like a million little zings prickled my skin. The energy was so thick here that it was impossible to ignore. I caught my breath as it skittered around my back and up and down my spine. I glanced at Fenling, who was twitching a little, as though she was trying to shrug something off of her shoulders.

“Giselda, I want you to meet Asajia, and this is Mistress Fenling, of the Lorani.” Sparrow’s voice was shaking just a little.

“Ah, my little bird brought home a number of important guests.” Giselda nodded toward the door. “How many do you have out there?”

“We’re nearly thirty,” Fenling said. “The Lorani ride in silence this day, and we seek some form of shelter. I know your house isn’t big enough, but I noticed you have a small stable in back. If we clean it for you, can we bunk there for the night?”

Giselda said nothing, but went over to a small table and sat down, cupping her hands around a crystal ball. She closed her eyes, then murmured a chant and—once more—fell silent. A moment passed, then another. Finally, she leaned back and let out a long breath.

“You may use the stables. But the two of you are to stay inside with us. Sparrow, show the riders to the stables. They can clean them on the morrow morning. I’ll make dinner for everyone. You said you have a company of nearly thirty?”

Fenling nodded.

“Sparrow, go to the larder and fetch me a leg of lamb. Also, bring in a sack of potatoes. I’ll stew us up a dinner.” She stood, crossing to her fireplace. A large cauldron sat near the hearth, and she hoisted it, carrying it over to a counter.

“What can we do to help?” I asked.

“I need water from the well—it’s outside and to the left. Bring me two buckets, if you will. And then both of you can help me wash and dice the potatoes.” She handed wooden buckets to Fenling and me, and we headed out the door.

Fenling filled Quen in on what they were to do, and the riders began to lead the horses to the stable. At least it would be protected from the snow, and there was a chimney on the stable, so it had a fireplace.

Fenling and I carried the water in, pouring it into the cauldron. We lifted the cauldron over the flame and Giselda added chunks of lamb from the leg. As the water began to heat, we sat down and began to wipe the potatoes with a damp cloth, then quarter them. The coziness of the house began to permeate my body, driving the chill out. Giselda said little, but she brought us hot mugs of tea. She sent Sparrow out to the Lorani with another cauldron, a smaller one, so they could heat water for tea over the fireplace in the stables.

It wasn’t long before the soup was bubbling. Giselda added several handfuls of herbs and some salt to the cauldron. She sat down at the table with us. Sparrow and Tonya sat on a bench near the large hearth.

“So, my Sparrow brought you home with him. I take it things are not well in the castle?”

I glanced at Fenling, deciding she should be the one to field the question.

“Things are difficult. The prince…”

“The prince has always been trouble, since he first took the throne,” Giselda said. “And things will get worse before they get better.”

I glanced at the crystal ball. “Can you see the future?”

Prognosticators were nothing new to me. Every town had their soothsayer. Some were more accurate than others, but Giselda—she was the real thing. She radiated power, and I wondered if the prince had ever met her. If so, I would be surprised to see that he let her live. Oracles were quite often problematic for governments, especially ones who ruled unjustly.

“Sometimes, child. Why do you ask?” She aimed her gaze at me and I felt exposed, like she could see me from the inside out.

“We left a friend in the city—he’s been arrested. We’re trying to help him. Will we be successful?” I didn’t want to give away too much, but the chance of finding out something that might help us move forward seemed too much of a gift to resist.

Fenling gave me a cautionary look, but I ignored it. The timing and energy felt right.

Giselda pulled her crystal ball to her, cupping her hands around the globe. She dropped her head, as if listening. The silence in the house hung heavy, settling around us like a shroud. Another moment, and she stiffened, her eyes flying open. But there were no irises—merely black orbs shining out of the sockets. The look was spooky as hell, but I found that I wasn’t afraid of her. I had no sense that she was going to attack.

“Your friend,” she whispered, her voice low. “He belongs in the city, correct?”

“He’s part of it, yes.”

“His heart is torn between the city and the wilds. He’s never happy for long, always longing for the other side. He’s worried now—he’s…he worries about you, about you both.” She hesitated, then said, “He’s not in the city—not at this moment. He’s looking for you. There are scouts on his heels and he’s doing his best to lose them.”

I jerked my head, staring at Fenling. She gave me a startled look in return.

“You mean that he’s escaped?”

“He’s been freed, yes, but he runs from his pursuers. He bears a blood price on his head, so danger will follow him.”

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