The salt road cleaved to the Smoking Ridge. They rode for as long as they could by night, the air chilling as they moved farther north.
By day, they slept among dark boulders or oak groves, out of sight.
Without their ichneumons to track the scent, they relied on reason.
The salt road was the fastest way to Sadyrr, the way that Siyu would most likely have come. On the fourth day, they stopped for supplies and a hot meal at Svartal, where the Ments mined a rare black salt.
Mentendon had once been a mosaic of cultures and beliefs, even when its own ancient religion had been widespread. Before the Midwinter Flood, every faith in the world had earned followers here.
The Six Virtues had been present for at least a century, especially in the west, where Yscali influence was strongest – but now the law enshrined their supremacy. Any other form of worship was severely punished.
In the past, the wine den at Svartal must have welcomed orchardists, mountain singers, mirrorfolk. Now there was one drunk sanctarian. Esbar eyed him over her cup of apple wine.
‘Stop staring,’ Tunuva muttered.
‘Why?’ Esbar said under her breath. ‘What do I have to fear from his dead knight?’
‘Do you want to spend time on a pyre?’
‘I could always use a warding. It might be fun,’ Esbar mused, ‘watching him squawk as I refuse to burn.’ Tunuva went to pay. ‘What?’
They made camp in the foothills. Through a crack between two boulders, Tunuva watched a train of carts head north at sunrise, laden with lumber. Three riders in leather and mail, their hair oiled in a Hróthi style, barked orders at the Ments.
‘Those must be salt warriors,’ Tunuva said. ‘Can they be taking all that wood for Hróth?’
Esbar grunted. ‘Iron pine. I hear they cut all theirs down.’ She turned over, bundling her cloak under her head. ‘Get some rest, Tuva.’
Tunuva lay down beside her. ‘What if Siyu doesn’t want to come back?’
‘She is coming back whether she likes it or not.’
‘The Priory is not a cage.’ Tunuva looked at her. ‘Is it?’
‘If it was, you and I would not be in this place,’ Esbar said, her voice short with exhaustion. ‘We are the Mother’s secret. That means protecting our sisters even from themselves.’
‘What if Siyu no longer wants to be a secret?’
‘Perhaps none of us can do or be exactly as we please in life.’ Esbar breathed out through her nose. ‘If she were older, I might listen. She doesn’t know what she’s choosing.’
As she spoke, the ground trembled. Esbar snapped upright, wide awake. Tunuva watched the mountains. ‘Perhaps we should move on,’ she said. The rocks were hotter. ‘Can you last?’
Even though Esbar looked weary, she nodded. They climbed back into their saddles.
Now they rode almost without stopping. It rained for the first time: cold, hard rain. Tunuva tilted back her head and relished the feel of it on her skin.
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