Slowly, Corwin stretched out his hand behind him, fingers reaching for Kate. A moment later, he felt her hand slip into his. “I choose them, Edwin. I choose the hundreds who have lived under the shadow of the Inquisition long enough. They are just as much people of Rime as you or I. And I am their prince as well.”
Edwin drew his sword, and all around him the soldiers did the same. The hesitation they’d shown with the revolvers was gone now. Swords meant a fair battle, an honorable death instead of slaughter. So be it, Corwin thought, reaching for his own sword.
Something spooked the horses. Almost at once they all reared and spun, unseating their riders, men unprepared to hold on with the awkward balance of the swords in their hands. Edwin and Storr both fell while Jaol’s horse carried him away into the woods, the man clinging to her neck. The other horses followed.
Edwin recovered quickly, sword raised once more. “Attack!” he screamed.
The remaining soldiers rushed forward, one pace, two.
“STOP!” The scream came from behind Corwin. He felt the power in the voice, the pressure in his mind. It rendered him still, incapable of moving, of doing anything besides listen. He watched Kate step around him to face Edwin and the soldiers—all of them frozen in place like living statues. She was doing this, same as she had sent the horses flying a moment before. Controlling them all with her magic.
The look on her face sent a shudder arching down his spine. Murder gleamed in her eyes. There was too much white in them, her teeth bared in a feral snarl.
“Kate,” Corwin whispered, remembering the way she’d struck down Vikas with her magic. That was the only explanation for the way the woman had died, so sudden, like a candle snuffed by the wind. “Don’t . . .” Don’t kill them, he thought but couldn’t say. The reality that she could sent a tremble through him. But it wasn’t what she could do, only what she would do. A choice. Not yet made. Spare them, Kate, he thought. Have mercy.
Seconds passed, the forest still and silent. Tension crackled in the air, all of the men aware that they balanced on the edge of a knifepoint, death a mere thought away.
Finally, at last, Kate waved her hand. “Sleep,” she said. Instantly, the soldiers slumped to the ground, Grand Master Storr and Edwin with them. The latter crumpled to his knees, a look of defiance in his expression, even to the last.
When it was over Kate turned to the others, a strange glow on her face, a distance in her gaze.
“Let’s go,” she said. “I don’t know how long they’ll stay under.” She held out her hand to Corwin.
He hesitated half a moment before taking it. Her fingers felt cold in his palm as they walked side by side past the sleeping soldiers. Corwin glanced down at Edwin just once, regret squeezing his chest. But there was nothing he could do for his brother now. His choice was made.
38
Kate
THEY FLED WEST INTO JADE Forest, going as far and as fast as the horses and their injuries would allow. Kate rode without speaking, without thinking. Finally, with night descending, they made camp in a gorge at the base of the Cobalt Mountains. A narrow passage, barely wide enough for two horses abreast, led into the gorge, making it easily defensible should the golds or Edwin’s forces find them. Kate doubted they would. Despite what she’d said, she didn’t think the soldiers were likely to wake soon. The thought turned her insides cold, reminding her how close she had come to killing them all, as she had Maestra Vikas.
It had been so easy. The power of a god. No wonder Rendborne desires it so much, she thought, remembering the envy she had sensed in him. The gods were merciful to deny him the power of sway. With it, he would be even more unstoppable than he already was. But what does it make me?
A monster, a voice whispered in her mind, over and over again. She had used her magic to kill, and the sense of power it had given her had made her want to do it again, seductive as it was. Now, with the feeling gone, it didn’t matter that Vikas deserved it. Didn’t matter that it was righteous vengeance. The act left her hollowed out—and changed forever. She wondered if the others could sense the change in her, too, and she couldn’t look at any of them as they rode. Especially Corwin. She had seen his hesitation afterward, how he had feared touching her.
Once inside the gorge, they made camp beneath the cliff at its base, a wide, circular outcropping. The sandy ground would make for soft bedding, and despite the steady fall of water from the stream above, it remained dry and warm. Raith and two of his blues hurriedly set the wardstone barrier while the rest gathered firewood and began tending the injured.
Kate threw herself into the work, despite her exhaustion. It was better than facing Corwin or Signe or Bonner. Better than facing herself. She tended the horses, unsaddling them, checking for injuries, then rubbing them down. She lingered longest with Firedancer, savoring the comfort of the horse’s mind against her own. The fact that Corwin had brought the horse for her out of Norgard seemed to ease her fear a little. He cared for her, she knew. But how long could that care last now that he knew what she could do? Now that they both did.
He has magic, too, though, she tried to tell herself, remembering the way he’d protected them with his uror mark. She didn’t understand how it had worked, what he’d done exactly, but she was glad for it. He had been the shield to protect them all. His is only for good.
Yes, and you chose for the good, a voice argued in her mind, that is the same.
Corwin, too, kept busy, doing what he could to help the magists work their healing magic before nightfall and helping to build additional shelters for the weak and the children who were with them. Most had been spared from the fighting, ordered to tend the horses during the battle. Most, but not all. One of the wilder boys had lost an eye in the fight. Kate spotted him lying on a bedroll near the fire, his head wrapped in a torn strip of cloth. They needed fresh supplies and to find permanent shelter. But where? They were all outlaws now.
Once she finished with the horses, Kate wandered through the camp, searching for other ways to be useful. She felt eyes watching her as she moved, and she couldn’t help the guilt twisting in her gut. It was her fault these people were here. Only the more she looked into those faces, the more her guilt became anger. Yes, she’d contributed to the golds finding out about the Rising’s headquarters, but that wasn’t what had made these people a target in the first place. It doesn’t matter what we’ve done. We are hunted because of who we are.
A hard resolve rose up in Kate. It needed to end. The hatred, the suspicion. The wilders had allowed it to go on for too long. We all allowed it by our hiding. By living in secret, they had let the world perceive them as it wanted to and not as they were. The Rising, which she had blamed for the oppression of people like her, wasn’t even fully real. It was a ruse, conjured to keep the people of Rime—wilder or no—afraid.
I am done with hiding, Kate thought. No matter what the others think. This, at least, she could be sure of.
Realizing there wasn’t any work left to do, Kate headed to the stream to clean up. She soaked her hands, scrubbing away at the dirt. Then she washed her face. She undid her plait, combed her fingers through it, then redid the braid. At last she stood and ran her hands down her clothes, trying to smooth out the wrinkles. Feeling something in her pocket, she reached inside it and withdrew the blood crystal. She examined it for several minutes, unsure what to do with it. Then, finally, she tied it around her neck. The crystal warmed against her chest. It was strange, almost perverse, knowing her father’s blood resided inside it, and yet, it was right, too. Here he was, protecting her once more as he’d always done before. I will give it to Kiran, she silently swore. Once I find him.
Kate made her way to Signe, lying on a bedroll in front of a fire with her injured foot propped up on a saddle. Kate sat down beside her. Signe reached over and took her hand, squeezing her fingers.