“Shouldn’t we greet a few old friends this evening, Ness?” Mop lifted his brows. “Just a few hellos, a quick stroll through the market?”

“Oh, yes! Please, Ness?” Rae took hold of Nessa’s arm.

But Nessa could not be swayed. “No.” Scowling at Mop, she shook her head. “Tomorrow. In the daylight.”

Rae lay down to sleep, certain sleep would not come. She could scarcely keep herself still, thinking of all the market might hold, thinking of all the things she had never seen. Horses. And handpies. Other people. Other children! Wooden tops. Kites. Flutes. Goats. She tossed and turned and stared at the distant flickering lights until sleep at last came to her, with dreams not of bright market trinkets and piping hot pies but cold stone and windswept mountains and darkness soft and furred and humid and breathing.

XXIX

THE PIGLETS GROW FASTER TO PLEASE HIM

Alba could not say how long she slept, but when she awoke, the rain had stopped and the sun was low in the sky, the landscape dim and indistinct around them. The wagon bumped along, the man beside her humming to himself under his breath.

“So you’re awake!” he exclaimed, seeing her stirring. “Are you warm enough? I piled you with blankets. You were shivering terrible.”

“Y-yes… thank you,” said Alba, the memory of cold and rain rushing back. “I’m warmer now.”

“Salt hock and waterskins under the seat,” the man reminded her. “You must be near starving.”

Alba, reaching beneath the bench, drank and ate gratefully, draining the skin in a few desperate gulps and tearing out great chunks of the dried meat.

“Did Maurus send you?” she asked when she finally felt her hunger subsiding.

“Maurus?” The man furrowed his brow. “You mean the priest who works in the kitchens? Yes, he told me you were left in the wilderness. He asked for my help. I must say,” he added after a moment, “you are fortunate someone spoke up for you. It’s far too easy to become lost in those woods. You were wise to stay put.”

“Maurus told me to wait.”

“Clever priest.”

“How do you know the forest?” she asked. “How were you able to find me?”

“Ah, I know all the shortcuts to travel when I make my deliveries. Meat,” he added as explanation, nodding at the ham hock Alba still held. “I’ve a small plot and a few animals I butcher to sell. Your… Maurus, is it? He buys from me.”

Alba nodded. Of course Maurus would have found a way to help through his kitchen. “Is he all right?” she asked, thinking of the parchments that had been found. “Maurus, I mean. Was he all right when you saw him?”

“Him? Oh, he was fine. Wanting some duck is all, but I only had goose.”

Alba sat in silence trying to remember how many times she had written Maurus’s name. Would the priests search the whole library? Would they learn he was the one who had taught her to read?