“I saw no reason to sacrifice myself when I could serve God better by surviving. Did Anne know that she and all the others would die? That the weaving would extract its own cost? Did Sister Meriam know she was doomed? Did all of them die?”
By the way Elene lowered her eyes and sagged against Berthold, Antonia guessed she was about to lie. “I could not see into the weaving. I only know …” She wept.
Berthold shot Antonia an indignant glance. “Is this necessary?” He looked so much like his father that Antonia had a momentary sense of dislocation, as if she had been thrown by means of a spell back to the days of her youth. But she had to press on.
“What do you know, Lady Elene?”
“Something terrible happened. I don’t know who fought the spell, but it broke down in the north, and then something terrible happened. White fire, and a river of burning rock. My grandmother was …” Her lips twisted as she struggled not to sob out loud. “She was gone, engulfed utterly in a blast of light. Later, a wind flattened our camp. Our servants were killed, smothered in sand. There came … a creature that dug out of the sands.” She covered her eyes with a hand. “A huge lion, but it had wings, and the face of a woman. It was going to kill me. Wolfhere came, and we escaped.”
“The ancient messengers of God.” A fire of excitement burned in Antonia’s heart. The rush of heady discovery made her giddy. “The oldest stories come to life! Is this true, that you have seen such things? One of the lion queens, the holy messengers of God?”
“I saw them.”
“What did Wolfhere do that allowed you to escape their just wrath?”
Elene grimaced and wiped her cheeks as she calmed herself. “Ask him. I fainted from loss of blood.”
“Can you mean they struck, and yet you survived?”
“Do you not believe me?”
Elene pulled her tunic up to display a length of bare thigh, supple and comely. Berthold flushed bright red and looked away, but Antonia saw the whitened scars from three cruel cuts that had torn the flesh and healed cleanly. A cat might leave such a mark, if it were very, very large.
“Very well,” said Antonia. “I believe you, Lady Elene. You will remain here in the custody of Queen Adelheid. Do not forget the galla.”
She left them, but it was difficult to concentrate on the discrete rungs of the ladder with her thoughts in a tumult. What power did Wolfhere have? He seemed the least powerful of Anne’s cabal, the one who wandered in the world to give reports back to the others because it was the only thing he could do. Yet he and Antonia were apparently the only ones who had survived out of Anne’s cabal. There might be others of Anne’s schola who had received some training in the arts of sorcery, but it was likely they had perished in Darre or cowered in fear in some hiding place. Without a strong leader, they were no more than boats set adrift without oars or rudder.
On the lower floor, Heribert still stood by the window. By all appearances he hadn’t moved at all since she had gone upstairs. His glance touched her, then flicked away.
His disinterest infuriated her. She struck with the only weapon she had. “If Prince Sanglant loved you, he would not have abandoned you.”
That caught his attention. He regarded her first with puzzlement, then with faint comprehension. “That’s what the other one said. If he loved me, he would not have abandoned me.” He tried out the words, considering the concept. It was not like Heribert to be so slow. “Where did he go? I look and look, but I cannot find him.”
“North, so it is said! Back to Wendar in search of the one he loves more than you. He never loved you.”
He shook his head as might a child, trying to shake off a hurt that would never go away. “That can’t be. He loved me. But he abandoned me to follow the other one. It’s the other one who stole him.”
His ponderous maundering annoyed her. She had done so much for him, and this was how she was repaid. She continued down to the guardroom, eager to depart the North Tower now that she had so much to think about. How far did Elene’s sorcerous abilities extend? Impossible to know.
“Be sure that none of those here leave the tower until I give further orders,” she said to the sergeant. “Not even Lord Berthold. I know he is a favorite among you for his amiability, but he must remain confined to the tower for the time being.”
“Yes, Holy Mother. But there are certain chores and tasks that my men don’t wish to be involved in. Who is to do those?”
“The servant girl can continue to run errands for you in such matters. She will not attempt to escape. Where has the old man been placed?”