"Did you hear something?" Lord Devon said. "It came from the barge."
He began to walk towards where Ella hid. Her protection was scant at best; if he took one more step, he would see her.
A new voice spoke. "My Lords, please, they are bringing her down."
"We should take our places," Lord Devon said, turning.
Tessolar assented, and they departed the area.
Ella sighed with relief and hopped out of the barge. She ran until she found a guard, telling him she was lost. Grumbling, he let her out and she rejoined the townspeople on the bank of the Sarsen.
Ella’s heart raced, more from fear than exertion, but she felt safe in the crowd. She looked on as eight soldiers carried a cushioned litter on their shoulders. They walked down to the grassy bank below the palace, taking perfectly synchronized steps. High Lord Tessolar walked beside them. His face was bowed and his expression was masked by the great collar.
Lady Katherine’s body lay on the litter, and as she came closer, the crowd sighed again. She looked more beautiful than ever, and a sob was heard from more than one quarter.
The white barge drifted to where the solemn litter-bearers silently waited. Lady Katherine’s body was placed carefully on the barge. When the bearers had again resumed their places by the river, the barge left the bank, glowing symbols on its decks giving the vessel the ability to move under its own power.
Ella stood with the crowd and watched the barge approach. Flowers covered the vessel from one end to the other. Her eyes misted as it came ever closer, and she squinted against the strong morning light, trying to find the special arrangement she’d made. There it was!
Ella wondered what terrible secret it was that Lady Katherine had taken with her, what crime it was she had committed. The vessel passed from view and Ella turned away. It was done, she could go home now. She would keep the secret. No one would know.
As she moved through the crowd, Ella’s skin prickled and she felt the horrible sensation of being watched. Then she saw him. It was the swordsman from the river, Rogan Jarvish; he stood motionless, staring directly at her. Then he began to push through the crowd, moving towards her.
Fergus’s warning still fresh in her mind, Ella turned and ran, weaving through the crowd. She glanced over her shoulder. He was catching up to her!
People grumbled and made injured sounds, but they got out of her way. With a burst of cool air, she was suddenly out of the crowd while he was still tangled in the mass of people. She began to run in earnest now, ignoring the startled looks of the townsfolk. She darted down an alley, and then popped out in the Poloplats, and soon she was among the maze of market stalls and tented areas.
Ella risked a backward glance. She couldn’t see him anymore, but just to be safe, she entered a cloth seller’s display area, and remained until the merchant realised she wasn’t going to buy anything and sent her on her way.
~
ELLA’S mind whirled. She needed to talk to her brother, but the morning was passing and with her home far from Sarostar’s centre she would need to hurry.
She crossed the Sarsen at the Winebridge and passed through the city’s outskirts. Soon patches of grass began to show through the stones, the large houses of craftsmen and landowners were replaced by simple cottages on farmland, and the street became a road. When the pasture turned into rugged grassland, and the massive trees of the Dunwood grew closer, she knew she was nearly home.
Ella’s path followed the stony stream and took her to the little bridge. She caught the stench of burning coal long before seeing the small house. Ella hated the smell, and one day she promised herself she’d buy a set of heating stones. Still, the price of essence had gone up again and enchanted items were more expensive than ever.
Ella found the old pail lying on its side and took it down to the stream. The rope tied to the handle was broken, so she was forced to wet her tunic in the process, but she filled the bucket with clear water and struggled with it to the door of her home.
A sign over the door proclaimed the house Mallorin, a name that meant "forest home". It was still early, so she opened the door quietly, but even so Uncle Brandon was sitting by the open stove, toying with something in the light cast by the burning coals. There was no other light in the room — it was still too cool to open the wooden shutters — and he appeared to be in another world. Ella set down the pail.
"Uncle!"
Brandon started. He was an old man now, but then again, he’d always been old, for as long as Ella could remember. His eyes were rheumy and the skin on his hands was dry. Ella couldn’t imagine him as a soldier, but that’s what he had been, a sergeant in the Alturan army. She called him Uncle, but she knew they weren’t really related.