CHAPTER FOUR

Deepend, and the Road from Deepend to the FarReach

Mountains

S alome had traveled quickly from Narbon to Deepend, desperate to reach StarDrifter, who she knew was only barely ahead of her. Salome was not quite certain how she knew, but sometimes at night, when she tossed and turned in sleep, she dreamed of the Weeper and heard it call to her.

During the day, she followed the trail of that call.

Just as she was not entirely certain of the precise nature of her knowledge of StarDrifter’s location, neither was Salome entirely sure what she would do when she found him. Retrieve the Weeper, yes.

Patently it wanted to return to her.

But StarDrifter. Salome blamed him for everything she’d lost. Her son, her life, her power. Everything.

And the degradation. The humiliation. They were what stayed with Salome the most during her long, silent trek east and then south. She could almost understand betrayal; after all, she had dealt enough of it in her lifetime, but the humiliation of herself and her son, their torture, her son’s disgusting manner of death, and all accomplished to the laughter of the Corolean crowds…that she could not forgive.

Two guides traveled with Salome. The Icarii who’d rescued her had given her money enough for the passage across the Widowmaker Sea and then to hire these guides for several weeks, should she need them. After that, when the money ran out, Salome did not know. It just meant she had to catch StarDrifter sooner rather than later.

Then the Weeper would be hers again, and the world with it.

They’d traveled quickly from Narbon to Deepend, but on the day they arrived at the port town, Salome began to feel so fatigued she needed to sleep for over twelve hours.

The next day Salome felt a little better, but only a little. The day after that such great fatigue, and a queasiness in her stomach besides, encased her once again, and she found it difficult to move from her bed, let alone summon the energy to leave Deepend.

The guides kept watch over her, acquiring food and shelter for her, but they could do little else, and Salome refused a physician.

She knew what was wrong with her, and it only increased her determination to find StarDrifter.

She hated him more than ever.

He would pay. He would.

But, oh, it was so hard to find the motivation to get back on her horse and move onward.

Maximilian and his party, on the other hand, were making good time. Despite the disparate natures of the different members, they traveled well enough together, and kept each other good enough company at night that their spirits remained high. During the day BroadWing and his companions surveyed the route ahead from the air, and Maximilian made good use of their eyes and subsequent reports to move forward as fast as possible.

The situation among the Central Kingdoms was now critically grave. In Deepend, Maximilian had heard news of the wars raging between the Outlands, Hosea, and Pelemere. Kyros was being attacked, too, although by whom Maximilian did not know. There had been several major battles, two outside Hosea, one outside Pelemere, and thousands of men had perished.

A nightmare was engulfing the Central Kingdoms, and Maximilian prayed it did not reach Escator.

He wished, suddenly, he had brought the crown of Elcho Falling with him.

What if someone else laid hand to it? If Ruen was attacked, and fell to invaders, then the crown might well be lost.

On the day that the Icarii had scouted the foothills of the FarReach Mountains, seeking a passage through for those on horse, Venetia came to speak quietly to Maximilian at the evening’s campfire.

“Maximilian,” she said, “I know you have little cause to trust me, for you barely yet know me, but I have something strange to ask of you.”

“What?” he said.

“That we wait here a week,” she said. “There is someone coming behind us, a sad woman, and ill, who needs to catch us. We need her. I cannot say why.”

“Who is she?”

Venetia hesitated. “She is this Salome, who StarDrifter has injured so greatly.”

“She is behind us?”

“A week away.”

This did not surprise Maximilian. It reinforced his sense that somehow everyone was being drawn together.

Salome was needed. Nonetheless…“A week is a long time, Venetia.”

“That is how long it will take her to reach us. I’m sorry. Maxel, it is important she reach us. I know how badly you need to push ahead, but…perhaps BroadWing and his companions can use the time to scout a passage for us through the FarReach Mountains, and give them some time also to rest, as they have been doing so much work on your behalf, and—”

“Very well,” Maximilian sighed. “Another mouth to feed, then.” He gave a slight smile. “Look at what my realm has been reduced to, Venetia. A motley gathering of marsh women, reformed assassins, and crippled Icarii. Who would want to be king of this lot, eh?”