“It killed him.”
Hathui’s tone surprised him, but as he examined her face, he saw neither anger or resentment, only sadness.
“Did it? That he marched south to Aosta—perhaps. Yet any of us might die, on any day.”
“Perhaps not you, Your Majesty.”
The barb had a sharp hook. “That may be, yet I pray you consider that my father might have died in his bed, or fighting against his enemies in Wendar, as easily as he was captured by the queen’s plots.”
“Do not forget Hugh of Austra, Your Majesty.”
Ah.
He glanced at Liath, but she seemed far removed from their conversation. She had light hands on her mount, a submissive mare who was content to follow where the rest led. She was far beyond him, a world away, judging by her frown and the unfocused nature of her gaze, not quite lighting on tree or earth or cloudy sky.
“I have not forgotten him, Hathui. Where he is now, I cannot say.”
“Dead, I hope,” muttered Hathui. “I saw him murder Villam with his own hands. I will never forgive him that, although my forgiveness is not a thing a man of his station cares about. If he lives, he will have found refuge. I hope he is dead.”
“I would just like to know.” He laughed. “Better to know that there’s a man in the dark stalking you with a knife. Even if you can’t see him. Yet what do you make of it, Hathui?”
“Of Hugh’s plots and Queen Adelheid’s treachery?”
“Nay. Of this new alliance.”
“What alliance, Your Majesty?” She looked around, as if expecting a pack of wolves to lope out of the surrounding woods. As they moved down into the bowl of a valley, beech and silver fir gave way to spruce. The dense boughs of spruce had absorbed the heavy winds better than most trees. Although the road was darker, often shaded and dim, few broken branches and fallen trees blocked their path.
“That between the Quman and the Horse people.”
“Is there one?” Liath had been listening, after all. She spoke as if the question had been addressed to her. “The Horse people are few, so they say. If they do not make allies of the Quman, they will end up fighting them. So they have done for generations, surely, with the aid of sorcery.”
“So they have done, but it is not clear what will become of sorcery now, or how the balance of power will change with the return of my mother’s people. If I were one of the leaders of the Horse people, I would seek allies. It may be they will seek an alliance with the Quman. It may even be they will seek an alliance with the Ashioi.”
“The Horse people and the Ashioi were enemies.”
“Long ago.”
“I have met Zuangua, as have you, Sanglant. To him, to the many who lived in the shadows all that time, it is not long ago but yesterday. Even to the ones who were born in exile, it is within the living memory of your grandfather, who can tell the tale.”
Sanglant had only the vaguest memory of his father’s father, Arnulf the Younger, but Henry’s mother, Queen Mathilda, had patted and cosseted her young grandson as affectionately as could so reserved a woman. All her love was held tight for Henry. She had admired Sanglant, but his birth had meant most to her, he suspected, because it gave Henry his claim to the regnancy.
So it was strange to think of having a grandfather, so old a man that he had seen the world almost three millennia ago. He could not grasp such an expanse of time. He had never been one to hoard grudges or dwell on the past. He refused to live in Bloodheart’s hall forever, chained down with the dogs.
“That may be true,” he replied, “but enemies can become allies if a greater threat rises.”
“Who would that be?” demanded Hathui. “If the stories are true, humankind and the Horse people moved heaven and earth in truth to cast away the Ashioi. If I were one of the Lost Ones, I’m not sure I could forgive that. If I were one of the Horse people, I’m not sure I would expect to be forgiven.”
He laughed. “We are not the Horse people. They are not like us. Li’at’dano said so herself. She said that humankind have driven them far into the east, and decimated their herds through disease and conflict.”
“The Quman did that,” said Hathui, “who hate and fear them.”
“And others. But Capi’ra and her troop have seen the west, now. Wendish folk defeated the Quman. Anne and her sorcerers raised this great storm. If I were one who leads among the Horse people, then I would fear Wendar.”
“There is another power that you neglect,” said Liath suddenly. “Anne did not raise the storm. The ancient ones did. Li’at’dano did. The Ashioi land would have returned in any case. Anne meant to exile them again, to destroy them for all time. That she did not, that worse destruction did not overtake us all, is due to the voices from the north. There is power there we must not ignore.”
