The Charnel Prince - J. Gregory Keyes [177]
“Why?”
Anne explained then, about everything. About the Faiths, about the dark man in the forest, about her dreams. When she finished, Austra’s eyes were round with wonder.
“Why couldn’t you have told me all of this before?” she asked.
“Because I didn’t believe it myself,” Anne said. “Because I thought it might somehow put you in more danger. But now I know I have to tell you.”
“Why? Because I’ve been to where the Faiths are?”
“No, because tomorrow Artoré and his sons are going to sneak us across the river and take us to Eslen.”
“But that’s wonderful,” Austra said, then started, and her voice dropped in tone. “You mean after we rescue Cazio.”
Anne shook her head. “No, Austra. We can’t go after them. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t understand. With Artoré we can save them.”
“Artoré and his boys are no match for those knights,” Anne said.
“You don’t know that, Anne, you—”
“I can’t risk it, don’t you understand?”
“No! How can you even imagine leaving them to die?”
“Austra, I know how you feel about Cazio, but—”
“No! No you don’t—you can’t.” She was crying now. “We can’t just give up.”
“We’ve no choice,” Anne replied.
“We do!”
“You have to listen to me,” Anne said. “This is hard for me. Do you think I want to do this? But if we go after them, and it’s a trap—which it probably is—then not only do Cazio and z’Acatto die anyway, but so do Artoré and his sons, and so do we.”
“I never thought you a coward,” Austra said.
“If it was just our lives I was risking, I would be following them this instant,” Anne said. “If it was just these few men, I would still do it. But if I am to believe the Faiths, and Osne—and Sister Secula, for that matter—then I cannot risk my life here. I must return straightaway to Eslen.”
“And why do you believe them? Why should I believe you? You, a queen who can save the world from destruction. Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?”
“I do. But I’m starting to believe it.”
“Of course you do! You’re to be queen and savior of all that’s good. Your head is as swollen as a melon!”
“Austra—”
“Oh, no,” Austra said. “Don’t try. Don’t talk to me. Don’t ever talk to me again.”
She turned her back, sobbing again, and Anne’s own tears returned, albeit silently this time. She lay awake for a very long time before exhaustion finally claimed her.
When she woke the next morning, Austra was gone.
“It looks like she took a weather-cloak and some bread,” Osne said. “But no one saw her leave.”
“Austra is no thief,” Anne said.
“I know that. I’m sure she feels as if her need outweighed everything, and equally sure she intends to return the cloak. It isn’t of any consequence—I would have given her those things anyway.”
“Well, she can’t have gone far,” Anne said. “If we hurry, we’ll find her.” She knew she was going against everything she had said the night before, but this was Austra, and besides, she wouldn’t have caught up with the horsemen yet. It should be safe.
“We’ll have to go that direction for a few leagues anyway,” Artoré said. “And we’d best get started now.”
“The horses are ready, Atté,” Cotmar, the second eldest boy, said. “And Jarné has seen to the supplies.”
“Osne, get the princess outfitted, and we’ll be on our way.”
Osne dressed her in one of the boys’ clothes—riding breeches tucked into leather boots, a cotton shirt and heavy woolen overshirt, weather cloak and battered, broad-brimmed hat. They rode out before the next bell.
“That’s her mark there, Atté,” Cotmar said, pointing to something on the path that Anne couldn’t see at all.
“Té, somebody told her about the upper crossing,” Artoré mused. “She must have stopped and asked Vimsel. Smart girl.”
“Well, we knew better than to try to cross the bridge at Teremené,” Anne said. She patted her horse’s mane. “What’s his name?” she asked.
“Tare,” he told her.
“Tarry,” Anne repeated. “I hope he’s faster than his name.”
Artoré gave her an odd look, but didn’t say anything.
They continued along, with the road following close to the river, until they reached a rickety-looking rope bridge. The chasm