The king looked thoughtful. “I am sorry for your family, but we should hope for either of those. Then when you are returned next year, it will be a happy miracle.”
His hand relaxed and moved to rest on his leg. Sage was glad the questions were over because she’d become stuck on the phrase next year. If the Demorans had no idea where Nicholas was, his return would indeed be a happy miracle. If they did know, however, they would come to retrieve him much sooner.
And when they did, they were likely to bring an army.
74
THEY KEPT ALEX outside all the time, other than when the caravan paused to rest under lean-tos in the heat of the day. There was never a good time or place to read Sage’s notes or to pick the locks on his chains, and Alex wasn’t sure attempting to escape was a good idea yet anyway. He’d be spotted right away, and with horses to run him down, the Casmuni would catch him in five minutes.
Gispan’s last words and the possibility of Sage being with the group haunted him. Alex obsessively searched the line ahead every time it came into view, but it was always so far that he couldn’t focus on the riders in front. In the evenings he scrutinized every person who passed near him.
What would he have done if he did see her or Nicholas? Alex wasn’t sure. But if he could know they were safe, it would give him some peace. Maybe then he could make a plan to get them out of here.
After ten days, the caravan stopped in the shadow of two great pillars of stone. They must have been within a day of their destination because a bonfire was built in the center of the camp, and every piece of firewood they carried was thrown into it. No tents were set up, not even the grand one. Instead, everyone pitched lean-tos around the fire, and at last Alex had a chance to study all the faces without head scarves.
And there she was.
Alex nearly sobbed with relief, then wiped his eyes and took in every detail. She sat cross-legged on a large rug directly across the fire from him, by all appearances unharmed. Though her face was flushed from sun and the heat, there were shadows under her eyes as she gazed blankly into the flames, reacting little to those around her. The Casmuni prince sat on her right, but she didn’t seem afraid of him.
Nicholas was on her left, looking positively cheerful, though he threw an occasional concerned glance at her. Both wore Casmuni clothing; it was easy for Alex to imagine their own clothes had been ruined in their escape. The two princes conversed with Sage and each other periodically, and then she’d respond—never looking upset or worried, but she never smiled, either. Alex knew the look on her face. She’d worn it the first time she’d spoken of her father’s death, when she struggled to talk about what she’d buried for so long.
What had happened to make her wear it now?
Alex wanted to stand up and shout her name, to see her run toward him across the sea of Casmuni and throw herself in his arms, but two observations stopped him.
First, Sage wore two daggers on her belt, and Nicholas, too, carried a knife. If she’d made an attempt to kill Gispan and the Casmuni had stopped her, Sage’s capacity for violence was known. Yet she sat next to the prince, armed with not one but two weapons—the second of which must have been returned to her by the men she helped escape. The Casmuni trusted her, and Alex didn’t dare associate himself with her now.
Second, on the other side of the Casmuni prince sat the familiar man with a scarred face who had every reason not to trust Alex.
75
WHAT SAGE THOUGHT was a pyramid of rock in the distance proved to be a terraced city. From the Protector’s Gate, everything looked as brown as the land between them, but as they drew nearer, a mixture of reds and greens began to separate from each other. The red came from the sunburned stones the city was built with, and the green was an abundance of plant life. She’d never seen a place so obsessed with gardens. Every window had some sort of plant hanging from it.
Banneth had told her Osthiza existed entirely on the springs it was named for, and the overflow was used to grow crops. The Kaz River was still several miles farther east and south, and the land between expanded in a delta of green fields from the heavy stream that flowed out of the city. Otherwise the surrounding land was desert, leading Sage to believe the gardens were not merely decorative—they must produce food, too. Scattered groves of date palms and at least one orchard grew on the lowest wide terraces, and the air was laced with the scent of their blossoms even at this distance. Sage closed her eyes and breathed deeply. The desert had its own stark beauty, but trees would always be first in her heart.
Banneth watched her from the side as they rode. “Are your cities so green?” he asked in Casmuni.
“Yes and no,” she answered. “Our cities are places green does not intrude, rather than one of the few places it can grow.”
The king nodded. “Farther south there are forests as wet as the desert is dry. Cities there are the same as yours, a haven from nature.”
A group of mounted soldiers approached from the city. Once Banneth’s traveling party was positively identified, several riders returned to Osthiza at speed and the rest escorted them to the gates. They passed through the reinforced archway and the lower terrace, and began the long, winding path up the hill to the domed palace at its peak. The king rode at the caravan’s head with Sage on his right and Nicholas between them but slightly behind.
Greenery hung down over every wall, grew from every roof. Sage’s hands were drawn to touch the vines and leaves within reach. After so many weeks of desert and rocks, to be among living things again was like coming up from under water.
The people of Osthiza must have been used to seeing their king come and go. They moved out of the group’s way and cheered and bowed, but otherwise didn’t disrupt their routines and business. Children rushed up to offer flowers and fruit to the king and his riders, but they hesitated to approach Sage or Nicholas. By their Northern Demoran coloring alone, it was obvious they were not Casmuni.
Banneth reached over and tugged her headdress down. The short wisps of hair she could see were much lighter after several weeks in the sun. She must look as blond as Queen Orianna to them. At the king’s gesture, Nicholas also pushed his hood back, revealing the light, coppery shade of his own hair.
“Was that wise, Palandret?” she whispered as the children around them fell silent and gaped. “To show them who we are without warning?”
Banneth waved and smiled to the growing crowd. “They were already talking and speculating. Best to let them see.” He turned to her. “I do not want anyone to think I am hiding you.”
Whether or not it was his intention, Sage was reminded she and Nicholas were the first Demorans these people had seen in three centuries. She represented her country, and first impressions were crucial. Her posture straightened, and her mouth curved into what she hoped passed for a smile.
“Thank you,” Sage said, accepting the flower one child finally dared to approach with. “How lovely. You are too kind.”
She never knew sitting straight and waving could be so exhausting. By the time the sloping road leveled out, Sage’s arms and back wanted to wilt like the flower in her hand. Banneth led their party into a courtyard of marble columns with a wide staircase leading into the palace. Halfway up the steps stood a young woman with her hands folded across the stomach of her crimson dress. Her long, black hair fell in waves down her back to her waist. She wore a regal and dignified expression, but its effect was somewhat lessened by the child bouncing at her elbow.
The riders stopped and began to dismount. The king was barely off his horse when the little girl, who looked about eight or nine, came flying down the steps, the train of her white gown floating like a sail behind her. “Bappa!” she yelled, throwing herself into his arms.