Xulai opened the carriage door and slid wearily down, followed by Precious Wind and Oldwife. Even after Nettie and the Farrier brothers had rejoined the party, Bear had maintained the fiction that the other three women were not with them. Each night they had slept apart, either in the carriage or in the woods. Each night, some animals had been separately picketed. One night, when Precious Wind had asked Xulai if she wished to tell the animals they were deer, the child had said, “No, why would I want to do that?”
“You did it before.”
“I did? I don’t remember that. Why won’t Bear let us sleep nearby?”
“Don’t ask me to explain it,” Bear had said rather sharply. “Just humor me by pretending not to be with us for a day or two more.” In truth, he found her an uncomfortable presence, easier to manage thinking about at a distance.
Now people bustled around the wagons. From the top of a flight of stairs, the prior, glittering with gold embroideries, came down to introduce himself and welcome them. He took Xulai by the hand, and she had to force herself to leave it in his grasp. It was not rough, it did not hold too tightly, but something about it made her feel revulsion.
His voice was deep, full of charm, his smile almost believable. “We’re glad to welcome you, Daughter. The Duke of Wold and our dear abbot are old friends.”
Xulai had watched him descend. He was of middling height, about the age of her cousin Justinian, though he walked swiftly, surely; his hair was white, but there was a lot of it, as neatly trimmed as the beard that rimmed his narrow face; his eyes were watchful. His robes were actually white but the golden veil attached to his high crowned hat and the gold embroidered stole hanging down the front of his robe made him glitter in the sunlight. Xulai found herself wondering if he went anywhere without them. To the privies, perhaps. If such a man used a privy. “I am very grateful for your welcome, sir.”
“Elder Brother,” he corrected her, with his ever-so-slightly stingy smile, his hands stroking the fall of gold along his robe. “That is what we all are here, brothers and sisters, elder and younger, who make sons and daughters of the youngest ones. Some of us are given to books, some to music, some to the land, some to crafts, and some to arms. The abbot himself is Eldest Brother, of course.”
“Was it your people we saw riding toward the falls?” she asked. “Did my cousin send word of some kind?”
The prior looked up, his eyes focused on something beyond her, brow furrowed, “Well, I . . .”
“If you know, please tell her,” said Precious Wind a bit snappishly. “She’ll worry over it if you don’t.”
Xulai flushed. She hadn’t meant to ask him anything. She wished she hadn’t. “If it is supposed to be a secret . . .”
The prior licked his thin lips, obviously deciding what to say. “By all the spirits and virtues, no, child. I just don’t want to upset anyone needlessly. I believe the duke sent word to the abbot saying he had an . . . an intimation that Woldsgard might be attacked. He asked for reinforcements from us. He said his people have been at peace so long, they have grown fat and lazy and may have forgotten how to fight.”
“Had he any intimation of where this attack might come from?” asked Bear.
The prior licked his lips again. “Perhaps something was said about Kamfels.”
He’s lying, thought Xulai.
Bear and Precious Wind shared a glance. “Siblings at war?” murmured Precious Wind, too softly to be heard by anyone but Bear. “Is the Duke of Kamfels teasing his sister again?”
“Or perhaps helping her,” whispered Bear. He looked deeply into the prior’s eyes. “Elder Brother, your people would have been there only shortly before a great number of the king’s men. The two troops were separated by only half a day.”
The prior nodded, his mouth twisted, as though he had bitten into something sour. “Well, yes, so we heard. In any case, the troops of Prince Orez were there before either of us. Our men went back to Netherfields, and the king’s troops went on, I believe, to Kamfels. Perhaps Justinian, Duke of Wold, intended a show of force. Though I believe he informed us later that the rumor he had heard might have been false, a feint, perhaps, to keep Wold off balance, or to diminish the strength of his friends by moving men into places they were not needed.”
And that is a lie, thought Xulai. The rumor was true, and the invading force came from Ghastain, but . . . what were the men from here supposed to do? Fight them?
“Oh, we do hope the duke did not weaken his friends,” said Precious Wind with sham concern.
“No, no. The abbey has not been weakened and any of our people not needed in Netherfields will soon return.”
Before anyone else could speak, Xulai said in her most childish voice, “Do we have to talk now, Elder Brother? I know you’re very busy and we are very tired.”
The prior nodded, grateful for her interruption. “Of course you’re tired. From the look of all of you, you would probably relish baths and something besides camp food. Our brothers and sisters have everything ready for you and you’ll talk about any of these other matters with the abbot himself tomorrow.”
He beckoned. A pair of white-robed, blue-veiled people came toward them, trailed by a brown-robed brother. “Will you all please stay here with Brother Rahas”—he indicated the brown-robed one—“just long enough to sort out the baggage you need? Then, Brother Pol, when they’re unloaded, if you’ll show the men the way to the stables,
