Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [269]
"I'm sorry," I whispered again.
I slept on his pallet of pine-boughs, beneath the furs he'd gathered. I stuffed my bags with strips of salted meat. I wondered if Rebbe Avraham had given him the sack of salt I found in the cabin. I wondered what the Rebbe would make of my killing him. Of the fact that it was at Berlik's request.
I didn't care, much.
Not really.
After I burned Berlik's body, I studied the peaks of the Narodin Mountains. There was the one, hook-shaped and memorable. So long as I kept it over my left shoulder, I thought, I could chart a course back to civilization. I might miss Miroslas, but I had enough supplies now to reach the village beyond.
I set out the next day. Elua knows, I could have used a day of rest, but the thought of lingering there was unbearable. My purpose was finished. All I wanted was to go home. And I was afraid that if I thought about the effort it would take to get there, I'd lie down in exhaustion and die.
So I went.
When I was training under Gallus Tadius' command in Lucca, some of the men complained about how hard he made us work. He told us that in the old days Tiberian foot-soldiers were expected to carry loads of sixty or seventy pounds, and that we should be grateful we had it so easy. I hadn't thought so at the time, but in hindsight, the long, grueling days of drilling seemed like a pleasure-jaunt. The only thing I dared abandon was the hunting bow, reckoning that with one arrow, it wasn't likely to save my life. Between the salted meat, the kettle I needed to melt snow, my blankets and arms and the bag containing Berlik's frozen head, which I lashed to my belt, I was carrying a load worthy of a Tiberian foot-soldier. And I was doing it in deep snow, without the benefit of a proper pack.
Once again, my days dwindled into an endless blur of trudging, frozen and footsore, through good weather and bad. Making camp, breaking camp. Boiling strips of frozen meat and gnawing on it, drinking the weak broth for its warmth. Shivering through the endless nights, struggling through the all-too-fleeting hours of daylight. I didn't count the days. Once again, there was no point. On horseback, I might have been able to gauge the distance to within a day or so, having a rough idea of how far I'd travelled. On foot, I couldn't begin to guess with any degree of accuracy; and the days were so much shorter than they had been when I'd left Miroslas. I'd been at this for a long time.
I kept going.
My progress varied from day to day. Some days, I made good time, at least while there was daylight. On others, I chose my course unwisely and found myself floundering in waist-deep snow, my thighs aching as I forced my legs to move, the saddlebags slipping from my shoulders as I tried to use my arms to break a path. There had been times before when I'd had to break a path for my mount, but I hadn't been carrying sixty pounds of gear.
I did stop, once. Just stopped. I leaned back, resting my weight against the snowdrift in which I was mired, and closed my eyes. I thought about what a profound relief it had been to give up the first time. Although the sun never seemed to reach its apex anymore, it was a bright day. The slanting sun beat against my face, turning the private darkness behind my eyelids to red brightness. After my exertions in the snow, I almost felt warm. It wouldn't last. It would go quickly if I never moved again. Freezing wasn't supposed to be a terrible way to die.
Just come home.
I'd sent that damned ring back to Sidonie. She hadn't asked me to make any promises I couldn't keep, and I'd done it anyway. Tell her it's a pledge, I'd said to Deordivus. That I would be back to claim it.
Brightness, a dazzle like diamonds.
I keep my promises.
I pried my eyes open, squinted at the sun, and kept moving, flailing and struggling through the deep snow.
Most of the time, I simply trudged without thinking, my exhausted body working like a pack-horse. I was too tired to think, too tired for prayer. Later,