“I found her wandering, Your Excellency.”

“She’s too valuable to lose, as we agreed before. You’ll be in charge of her, Bysantius. It will be your head if she escapes.” He turned away and walked to his horse.

It was strange how easily she understood Arethousan now, as if the scent of camphor tossed into the flame to let the lady and the general see what she saw had at the same time opened her mind and let it steal words out of theirs.

“I pray you, Your Excellency,” she cried, starting forward. “Exalted Lady. I pray you, ray companions … I know where they are. If you’ll just let me go and make sure they’re with one of the wagons—”

He paused, turning back to frown at her. “You misunderstand us. We do not need your companions anymore. They are of no use to us because our circumstances have changed so greatly.”

“Surely you don’t mean to abandon them!”

He shrugged and walked away.

“Sergeant! Exalted Lady!”

Lady Eudokia sipped at her cup and ignored Hanna’s cries.

“No offense,” murmured Bysantius, gripped her arm, “but you’d do better to come quietly.”

“I can’t abandon them! They’ll die!”

“It’s out of your hands, Eagle. You are the prisoner of Lord Alexandras now.”

She ripped her arm out of his grasp and bolted, but two of the guards tackled her. She went down hard, but kept fighting until they pinned all her limbs. They stripped her of her weapons, tied her hands and feet with rope, and threw her in the back of a wagon as it lurched past in the train of Lord Alexandras. Scraped, bloody, and bruised, she wept with fury, hating herself for her helplessness.

4

HANNA did not return. They waited for hours at the edge of camp, hoping not to be noticed, and indeed it was as if they had become invisible. No one paid them the least mind. There was no telling what hour of the day it was, or what service they ought to sing, because the clouds never lifted and the light kept its smoky, sullen glow, scarcely enough to read by.

At intervals they watched vague shapes that seemed to be troops moving in the distance, perhaps a line of march receding toward the northeast, but the haze obscured most movement beyond an arrow’s shot. Their eyes stung and their noses ran from the constant irritation of falling ash and blowing grit. Yet the patter of ash-fall eased by the time Fortunatus sighed and turned to Rosvita.

“What if she is not coming back, Sister? Should one of us go look for her?”

“We will not split up. What happens to one, happens to all.”

“We have waited here long enough,” said Mother Obligatia. They had set her litter across the wagon and shielded her with a canvas awning so that the ancient nun could ease up on her elbows and survey the scene. “Night will come and find us standing like dumb beasts in the field.”