TWO weeks later, Ella and Shani stood on the shores of Lake Halapusa, looking down at the small pool of water they'd created off to the side of the lake itself. Ella held a book in her hand and was writing out equations, while Shani crouched down beside the pool and frowned.
A contingent of fifty Hazaran warriors guarded them. Ella had told Jehral she thought it excessive, but Jehral had simply shrugged and said the prince considered the two women too valuable to lose.
Ella heard the sound of hooves and looked up, seeing Jehral approach. His colour had returned in the last weeks and she was now pleased to see he was fully recovered.
"Salute, Ella," Jehral said.
"Ho, Jehral," Ella replied.
"I bring your response from the prince."
"Well? What did he say? How much essence can we have at our disposal?"
"The answer was vague. He said you can have as much as a horse can carry in its water bags, but no more. If you want a more specific answer, you will have to ask him yourself."
Ella looked at Shani. "Do you think it will be enough?" she asked.
"We will need more — perhaps twice as much. And it will only have a chance at working if we wait until after summer," Shani said. "Even then it will be close."
Ella looked up at Jehral. "Tell the prince something for me, Jehral, and this is important. Tell him we will open the way across the lake to Tlaxor, but we will have to wait until the season has changed. Tell Prince Ilathor we need more essence, as much as two horses can carry in their water bags, but that after the end of summer, we will help him take the city."
Jehral nodded, wheeling his horse, and rode away.
26
AMBER stuffed three dresses, a coat, and two blankets into a sack. She picked herself up, feeling the weight of her pregnancy pull at her back, and then left the small shelter she'd been given — a canvas tent, walled on three sides — walking around to the back. She dropped the sack on the ground, before once more returning to the tent.
Summer had come and gone, and soon the weather would turn cool again. The blankets and clothing could save someone's life, and most of the things the guards gave her she didn't need for herself. Amber knew the other prisoners distrusted her, and they would never take what she gave them if she offered, but if she left the sack outside, by morning it would be gone.
Life had settled in the prison camp — for Amber, at least. With Moragon believing she carried his child, Amber had received regular meals and been given her own shelter, however basic.
The other prisoners, particularly the women, called her terrible things, but Amber knew there was more to the story than they were aware of, and although she hated what she'd done, she had secured the life of her child. Her thoughts wandered. Could she ever tell Miro? Would he despise her, too? She pushed the thought to the side.
Once Moragon found out she was pregnant, he had made sure she was safe from harm, and then left her to her own devices. Amber knew he wasn't interested in her well-being, it was the son she might give him that was the source of his concern.
Amber felt the baby kick, and sighed. She was lonely, and she knew that with her relaxed conditions she could help her people more, if they would only let her. While she was now safe from being taken away to where dark rumours said they were committing unspeakable deeds, more people vanished every day.
The prisoners constantly wondered where they were taking them, speculating on who would be next. It was usually the old, the sickly and the weak, but sometimes it was those who tried to fight back. There were rumours, horrible rumours, that the templars were torturing them, or experimenting on them, or killing them and extracting essence from their bodies.
There were constant fresh arrivals, mainly people from Ralanast. The spirit had been crushed out of many in the prison camp, but Amber felt that with the right leadership, they might be able to fight back. The Alturans had even looked to Leopold to lead them, but he had gone mad since the death of his uncle, Tessolar, the old High Lord. There was no help there.
Amber stood and walked slowly around to stretch her legs, once more feeling the baby kick.
A tall Halrana woman a few years older than Amber walked in the opposite direction.
"Lina, can I speak with you a moment?" Amber asked.
"What is it?" Lina said shortly.
"You are caring for a child, a boy, aren't you?"
"Yes. What of it?"
"The guards give me oats, but I can't eat them," Amber lied, "they give me stomach problems. I could leave the bowl outside my tent in the mornings. Your boy could eat them. Do you think that would be all right?"
Lina nodded — a short, sharp gesture. "Fine. I'll… What's wrong?"
Amber suddenly fell, clutching Lina's shoulder for support. She waited, breathing slowly in and out, before it hit her again.
Amber looked up at Lina, fear written across her face. "I think I'm going into labour," she said.
Lina drew herself up. "Samora," she called to another woman, "go and fetch one of the guards. Don't worry," she addressed Amber, "you'll be fine."
"I'm scared," Amber said.