Kord growled something beneath his breath and then turned to Isana. “Better get that other glass of water before my new whore figures out it’s there.”
Odiana let out a soft noise, curling in on herself. Kord watched her with a smirk on his face. Isana saw the ugly glitter in his eyes as he prepared to speak again, and interrupted him. “Kord. She’s nearly dead as it is. Leave her be.”
Kord narrowed his eyes at Isana, lips lifting away from his teeth. He took a lurching step closer to her. “Still giving orders,” he murmured. “We’ll see. Tonight, after I’m done with that one, we’ll see what it’s like. We’ll see who gives the orders and who takes them.”
Isana met his eyes steadily, though his words made her heart thud with dull, exhausted fear. “You’re a fool, Kord,” she said.
“What are you going to do about it, huh? You’re nothing. No one. What are you going to do?”
“Nothing,” Isana said. “I won’t have to. You’ve already destroyed yourself. It’s just a matter of time now.”
Kord flushed red and took a step toward Isana, his hands clenching into fists.
“Pa,” Aric said. “Pa, she’s just talking. She’s just trying to get to you. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Kord rounded on Aric and swept his fist at him in a clumsy swat. Aric didn’t dodge the blow, so much as he let it catch his shoulder and throw him to the floor.
“You,” Kord growled, chest heaving. “You don’t tell me. You don’t talk to me. Everything you got, you got because I gave it to you. You will not disrespect me, boy.”
“No, sir,” Aric said, quietly.
Kord got his breathing under control and shot Isana another glare. “Tonight,” he said. “We’ll see.”
The ground shook again as he turned and lumbered out.
Coals sizzled in silence for a few moments. Then Isana turned to Aric and said, “Thank you.”
Aric flinched at the words, more than he had from his father’s blows. “Don’t thank me,” he said. “Don’t talk to me. Please.” He gathered himself to his feet and picked up the bucket. “Still have to lay out the tar. The ice didn’t stick to the roof, but I have to tar it tonight or he’ll feed me to the crows.”
“Aric—” Isana began.
“Be quiet,” Aric hissed. He shot a glance at the door. Then said, to Isana, “Snow’s starting up again.”
He left, and bolted the door behind him.
Isana frowned at him, trying to puzzle out his meaning. She took the second cup of water and took a bit more for herself, then gave the rest to the semiconscious Odiana.
Outside, the wind rose. She heard men moving around the steadholt. One of them walked past the smokehouse and banged on the walls, letting out a few crude phrases. Odiana flinched and whimpered. More raucous talk and rough laughter went up from somewhere nearby—probably the steadholt’s great hall. What sounded like a fight broke out, ending in cheers and jeers, and all the while it grew darker, until only the red coals gave any light to the smokehouse’s interior.
There came a bang against the wall, wood against wood. Then steps. Feet on a ladder. Someone set down a weighty object on the roof, and then hauled himself onto it.
“Aric?” Isana called quietly.
“Shhhh,” said the young man. “This is the one other thing.”
Isana frowned, staring up. She followed his weight as he moved from the edge of the slightly sloped roof up toward its crown, directly over the circle.
Without warning, the naked blade of a knife sprang through the shingles, dropping bits of tar-stained wood and droplets of water in. The blade twisted, left and right, opening a larger hole. Then it withdrew again.
Aric proceeded around the roof slowly, and Isana could hear him slopping tar from a bucket he must have carried down onto the roof. But every moment or so, the knife would sink in again, opening a small hole between shingles. Then it would withdraw. He repeated the action several times, and then without a word he clambered down from the roof again. His feet crunched through snow and into the night.
It only took a few moments for Isana to realize what Aric had done.
The interior of the smokehouse was smoldering hot, and its heat rose up to the roof above and warmed the materials there. No ice had stuck to the roof the night before, Aric had said, but if the roof hadn’t been sealed properly, swelling of the shingles and beams would set in after they had been soaked. They would have to be sealed immediately in order to prevent leaks, especially if the construction had been slip-shod to begin with. The roof would require fresh tar consistently to keep it closed against leaks.
Against water.
Droplets began to fall through the holes Aric left with his dagger. Water that pattered to the floor, first in the occasional drop and then, as the snowfall evidently increased, in a small, steady trickle.
Water.
Isana’s heart suddenly thudded with excitement, with hope. She leaned forward, across the ring of coals, and caught the nearest trickle of water in one of the empty cups. It filled in perhaps a minute, and Isana lifted it to her mouth and drank, deeply, water coursing into her with a simple, animalpleasure. She filled the cup again and drank, and again, and then gave more to Odiana as well.
The collared woman stirred, at the first cup and then more at the second. Finally, she was able to whisper, “What is happening?”
“A chance,” Isana said. “We’ve been given a chance.”
Isana reached across to fill both cups again, as the trickle came down a bit more steadily. She licked her lips and looked around the circle of coals, searching for what she thought would be there. There, where Aric had slopped the coals in a particularly careless fashion. A spot where no fresh coals had landed, and only old, grey, soft-edged coals remained.
Trembling with excitement, Isana reached out and poured the water over the coals. They sizzled and spat. She refilled the glasses and did it again. And a third time. A fourth.
With a final sputtering hiss, the last of the coals went out.
Shaking, Isana caught another cupful of water, and reached out through it for her fury, for Rill.
The cup stirred and quivered, and abruptly Isana felt Rill’s presence within the water, a quivering life and motion swirling within it frantically. Isana felt tears springing to her eyes, and a moment later felt Rill gently easing them back from her, felt the fury’s affection and relief at being in contact with her again.
Isana looked up to Odiana, who had leaned out to catch another trickle of water in both cupped hands and who had a distant, dreamy smile upon her face. “They’re talking about us,” Odiana murmured. “So many cups. They’re going to use me until the heat has killed me. Then it will be your turn, Isana. I think—” She broke off, suddenly, her back arching with a little gasp—then flung the water away from her, shaking her head and clapping her hands over her ears. “His voice. No, I don’t want to hear him. Don’t want to hear him.”
Isana turned to her and caught her by the wrist. “Odiana,” she hissed. “We have to get out of here.”
The dark-eyed woman stared up at Isana, her eyes wide, and nodded. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can.”