Canticle

what to do if-”

“Trust me, Queen Winteria,” Jin Li Tam said, still smiling, “you’d figure it out soon enough.”

And in a brief moment of her own, Jin Li Tam felt the weight of the New World slide off her shoulders as she and the Queen of the Marshfolk laughed until even Lynnae and the River Woman had no choice left but to join them.

When that moment passed, she strapped on her knives, checked her armor and passed Jakob over to his nursemaid’s care. Then, still flushed from their laughter, she and Winters called for their horses and set out in the direction that duty called them to.

Winters

A light snow fell as they rode silently south to parley. Above them, the sun hung veiled in gray behind the overcast sky. Around them, they heard the sounds of a forest leaning toward spring and the steady footfalls of their horses.

Winters rode beside Jin Li Tam, occasionally glancing over at her. The Gypsy Queen wore a coat of silver scales and a pair of scout knives with worn handles. Her long red hair was pulled back into a braid, crowned with a circlet that matched her armor. She rode proud and tall in the saddle. There was stern beauty in the steel of her posture.

I am nothing like her, Winters thought. What had Rudolfo called her? Formidable? And yet, not so long ago, she’d seen beneath the calm mask Jin Li Tam wore. When she’d first approached the Gypsy Queen, Winters had seen anguish and doubt upon the woman’s face. There was a desperation in the way she had clutched her child even in the midst of her deliberate pacing. But she’d also watched as Jin took that anguish and doubt and stored it away as soon as her work called upon her to do so. It was a mastery of self that Winters could only hope to someday attain.

And the baby. When she’d taken that small, warm bundle into her arms, had seen those tiny fingers and that tiny mouth, it had sparked something within her. Not the ribald, baser instinct that Jin had teased her about, but something else, something deeper even than that compelling human need to become one with another and out of that, to make life.

Deeper than that, it had awakened within her a sudden and strong need for family-for an abiding connection to others that transcended her experiences to date. She’d thought she’d felt that with her people, but now she was uncertain of it.

Upon the death of her father, when she was very young, Hanric had done his best by her. He’d given over any personal desire he might have had for a family of his own to serve her father and later, her, so there really had been no woman to play the role of mother to the young queen. No siblings to shape her sense of place in the world. And knowing no different path, she’d grown up amid the Book of her predecessors and what other volumes they could pillage or purchase. She’d learned about her monthlies from their Herb Lady the day after it had first begun. She’d learned the fundamentals of procreation from Tertius, laid out for her in the practiced language of Androfrancine scholarship without any of the trappings of love or marriage or wonderment. And until that day she and Neb had fallen to the ground, tangled in glossolalia and prophecy, she’d given no real further thought to it. But gradually, as he’d filled her dreams and they had become even further tangled up in images of a Home they would someday share, she’d grown to feel a bond like nothing she’d felt before. And now, she realized, this was essentially a part of the same dance.

We long for connection. She saw it in Jin Li Tam’s face as she fed her baby. She felt it herself as she laughed with the women in the tent, clutching precariously to that life in her arms.

If anyone had asked her even as early as last autumn, she’d have sworn she felt that connection with her people. But now, with Hanric in the ground and her boots fresh from the Androfrancine graveside at the Summer Papal Palace, she questioned that connection. Somehow, within her very people, her family, a vicious and twisted thing grew in shadows, and neither she nor her Twelve had known of it. She saw once again the look of despair and fear upon Seamus’s face as he pulled back his grandson’s shirt for her. She thought of the prophet, Ezra, and the milk white of his eyes. She remembered the ecstasy upon his face as he showed her the markings of ownership upon his breast.

No, she realized, not just of ownership. but of belonging. A passionate and powerful connection to something.

She shuddered. Begone, kin-raven.

A low whistle drifted through the forest, and she realized they now approached the edge of a small clearing. At its center, a handful of horses gathered beneath the flags of Pylos and Turam. She glanced again to Jin Li Tam, saw that calm determination upon the woman’s face, and allowed that to settle her.

Jin Li Tam looked to her and must have read the worry there in her eyes. “Follow my lead if you are uncertain,” she said. And as she spoke, her hands moved subtlety around the reins and along the neck of her horse. I will see you through this.

Winters blinked, uncertain why this surprised her. Rudolfo knew the nonverbal language of House Y’Zir, so it stood to reason that his bride would as well. “Thank you, Lady Tam,” she said.

Jin Li Tam offered a forced smile. “You are welcome, Lady Winteria.”

Then, their scouts were in the open, hands ready at their knife hilts as they took up their positions. Winters turned her attention to the cluster of horses ahead and felt the firmness settle into her jawline. The weight that had lifted earlier from her returned, and she breathed deeply as it settled upon her neck and shoulders.

Meirov was easy to pick out though Winters had never seen the woman up close. Hanric had handled her parleys during the War of Windwir. Still, those times she’d seen her from a distance, she’d not imagined she’d be so haggard and hollow-eyed.

She is consumed by grief. But more than that, she realized, the grief had become a bitter rage that sharpened the angles of her face and paled her already fair skin. The long braid of her blond hair spilled out from beneath her helmet, and she rested her hand upon the pommel of her sword. Around her, her rangers stood near and ready, their eyes watchful upon the Gypsy Scouts that stood in a loose circle.

Turam’s general sat beside her. He wore a steel breastplate and a deep purple cloak, holding his helmet under his arm as he leaned over to whisper something to Meirov. The queen nodded, and her eyes met Winters’s. Hatred blazed out from them, and the stark honesty of it made Winters flinch and look away. Her stomach ached, and a sudden urge to flee rose up in her. She risked a glance back, but those eyes bore into her and the firmness of Meirov’s jawline, the white knuckles upon her sword and reins, were clear messages.

She would cut me down if she could.

Winters blinked and looked away again.

As they drew nearer, Jin Li Tam spoke. “Hail, Pylos and Turam.”

Meirov’s voice was cold. “Lady Tam, our parley and kin-clave is with the Ninefold Forest Houses.”

Winters watched Jin Li Tam read the woman’s posture and tone. “The Ninefold Forest Houses holds kin-clave with the Marsh Queen.” And her hands moved again slowly: Her grief is strong; be silent.

Winters shifted in her saddle. Yes, she answered. I will.

Meirov’s eyes narrowed. “So you’ve brought Rudolfo’s Wandering Army against us to protect these savages? Shouldn’t you be home minding your son?”

The word stung, but there was more said than that. Winters read the other messages beneath the words. She’d referred to it as Rudolfo’s army-a subtle way of saying she did not recognize Jin Li Tam’s authority. And there was another message, one that gave her pause and sent her eyes back to Jin Li Tam’s face to look for some sign of it registering there. Your son lives and mine does not.

Jin Li Tam inclined her head. “Lord Rudolfo is aware of this action and joins me in offering our deepest condolences for your loss, Lady Meirov. It is a terrible tragedy that breaks my own heart as a mother.” She turned to the Turamite general. “And we grieve for your loss as well. We are all bereaved at the violence of that night- including Queen Winteria, who lost her caretaker, Hanric, beneath those iron blades. The Ninefold Forest is pledged to helping the Marshfolk identify the killers and deal with this matter.”

Meirov’s face twisted and darkened. “Your condolences are poor currency with me, Lady Tam. If you would help in bringing justice, either turn your army around and go home to mother your son or honor your kin-clave with