the woman.
“Where is your home?”
She was quiet for a long time, though her lips were moving. It was as though she were trying to remember how to speak. Finally, with a dry and cracking voice that sounded as weak and pitiful as she looked, she answered.
“In the rug shop… I live in the back of the rug shop.”
Rothar shook his head in dismay. He had seen the rug shop burn to the ground the night before.
“Have you any family that can care for you?” he asked.
The woman said nothing, but began to weep softly. Rothar had his answer.
Under normal circumstances, he would have put her off at one of the boarding houses in Witherington and instructed the master of the house to give her a room, paying for it himself. But Rothar had passed the houses earlier that day, and the sounds coming from within made him feel that they were not places for a frail and broken girl.
Harwin and Esme were in a safe house in the north part of the city, but the room he had arranged for them was too small as it were, and he did not wish to risk endangering Esme with the presence of an unpredictable and unfamiliar addict.
Rothar resigned to take her to his home until he could arrange for her to be watched over by someone who would make sure she stayed away from the Obscura.
As they rode, he asked her, “What is your name?”
It took a moment for the girl to retrieve her identity from her own mind.
“Allette.”
“And, if I may ask, how did you come to be in the state that you are in?” Rothar knew that he would have to be delicate in speaking with her, but this woman may be able to help him in his quest.
“It ran out,” was all that she said in reply.
“What ran out?” asked Rothar, feigning ignorance.
“The ladder.”
“Ladder?”
“Yes, the ladder to heaven,” she said, her voice a broken murmur. “It was everywhere, and then it was gone, and we were all dying.”
A sensation was forming in the pit of Rothar’s stomach. It was not fear, for Rothar had killed that emotion long ago, but it was a feeling that this mysterious “Obscura” was much more powerful than even Ariswold had understood, in his altered state.
They rode past a row of squat, humble cottages. A faint, acrid smell hung in the air. Rothar would have attributed the odor to the smoldering structures nearby, but Allette straightened up and sniffed at the air like an animal. Suddenly, she threw one leg over Stormbringer’s neck and dropped to the ground, dashing towards one of the cottages, seemingly oblivious of her injured leg.
Without any command from Rothar, Stormbringer circled around tightly, cutting off Allette’s path. She ran face first into the horse’s side, crumpling to the ground.
Rothar climbed down and tried to help her back to her feet, but she began screaming and thrashing at his face with her hands.
“Let me go! Let me go! They have it in there! There is a ladder in there!” she shrieked.
Doors were beginning to open and glassy eyed heads hovered in them, tendrils of white smoke escaping their noses and grinning mouths.
“There is nothing in there but misery, woman!” Rothar shouted.
All at once, Allette went limp, her exhaustion and wasted body betraying her rage. Rothar lifted her onto Stormbringer’s back and remounted, casting a deadly look at the addled villagers, who were now shrinking back into the darkness of their dens.
Rothar took Allette home.
Chapter 16
Taria crouched silently in the inky darkness of a Banewood thicket. It was early morning, and dew drops still hung heavy on the foliage, wetting her clothes and skin if she moved at all. Just as the sun was beginning to filter meekly through the dense landscape of tree trunks, a snapping twig announced the arrival of her quarry.
A large elk stepped onto the game trail thirty yards ahead, and Taria smoothly brought up her bow and drew back, taking aim at the majestic animal. Before she released the arrow, Peregrin reached from behind her and put his hand
“Where is your home?”
She was quiet for a long time, though her lips were moving. It was as though she were trying to remember how to speak. Finally, with a dry and cracking voice that sounded as weak and pitiful as she looked, she answered.
“In the rug shop… I live in the back of the rug shop.”
Rothar shook his head in dismay. He had seen the rug shop burn to the ground the night before.
“Have you any family that can care for you?” he asked.
The woman said nothing, but began to weep softly. Rothar had his answer.
Under normal circumstances, he would have put her off at one of the boarding houses in Witherington and instructed the master of the house to give her a room, paying for it himself. But Rothar had passed the houses earlier that day, and the sounds coming from within made him feel that they were not places for a frail and broken girl.
Harwin and Esme were in a safe house in the north part of the city, but the room he had arranged for them was too small as it were, and he did not wish to risk endangering Esme with the presence of an unpredictable and unfamiliar addict.
Rothar resigned to take her to his home until he could arrange for her to be watched over by someone who would make sure she stayed away from the Obscura.
As they rode, he asked her, “What is your name?”
It took a moment for the girl to retrieve her identity from her own mind.
“Allette.”
“And, if I may ask, how did you come to be in the state that you are in?” Rothar knew that he would have to be delicate in speaking with her, but this woman may be able to help him in his quest.
“It ran out,” was all that she said in reply.
“What ran out?” asked Rothar, feigning ignorance.
“The ladder.”
“Ladder?”
“Yes, the ladder to heaven,” she said, her voice a broken murmur. “It was everywhere, and then it was gone, and we were all dying.”
A sensation was forming in the pit of Rothar’s stomach. It was not fear, for Rothar had killed that emotion long ago, but it was a feeling that this mysterious “Obscura” was much more powerful than even Ariswold had understood, in his altered state.
They rode past a row of squat, humble cottages. A faint, acrid smell hung in the air. Rothar would have attributed the odor to the smoldering structures nearby, but Allette straightened up and sniffed at the air like an animal. Suddenly, she threw one leg over Stormbringer’s neck and dropped to the ground, dashing towards one of the cottages, seemingly oblivious of her injured leg.
Without any command from Rothar, Stormbringer circled around tightly, cutting off Allette’s path. She ran face first into the horse’s side, crumpling to the ground.
Rothar climbed down and tried to help her back to her feet, but she began screaming and thrashing at his face with her hands.
“Let me go! Let me go! They have it in there! There is a ladder in there!” she shrieked.
Doors were beginning to open and glassy eyed heads hovered in them, tendrils of white smoke escaping their noses and grinning mouths.
“There is nothing in there but misery, woman!” Rothar shouted.
All at once, Allette went limp, her exhaustion and wasted body betraying her rage. Rothar lifted her onto Stormbringer’s back and remounted, casting a deadly look at the addled villagers, who were now shrinking back into the darkness of their dens.
Rothar took Allette home.
Chapter 16
Taria crouched silently in the inky darkness of a Banewood thicket. It was early morning, and dew drops still hung heavy on the foliage, wetting her clothes and skin if she moved at all. Just as the sun was beginning to filter meekly through the dense landscape of tree trunks, a snapping twig announced the arrival of her quarry.
A large elk stepped onto the game trail thirty yards ahead, and Taria smoothly brought up her bow and drew back, taking aim at the majestic animal. Before she released the arrow, Peregrin reached from behind her and put his hand
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