The pillars of creation

She had no idea what to do to rescue Betty, but she at least knew what she had to attempt in order to help Sebastian. That was what was most important, and what she had to do. She was wasting precious time.

Jennsen stood, angrily wiping the tears from her face, and then put a hand to her brow to shield her eyes from the sun. She had been in the palace a long time, so it was hard to judge, but she figured it to be late afternoon. Taking into account the sun's position in the sky at the time of year, she judged which way was west. If only she had Rusty, she could make better time. If only she had her money, she could rent or buy another horse.

No sense yearning for what was gone and couldn't be recovered. She would have to walk.

"Thank you for the wine," Jennsen said to the blond-headed man standing there fidgeting as he watched her.

"Not at all," he said as he cast his gaze downward.

As she started away, he seemed to gather his courage. He stepped out into the dusty road and grabbed her by the arm. "Hold on there, ma'am. What are you thinking of doing?"

"A man's life depends on my getting out to Althea's place. I've no choice. I have to walk."

"What man? What's going on that his life would hinge on you seeing Althea?"

Jennsen, looking up into the man's sky blue eyes, gently pulled her arm away. Big and blond, with his strong jaw and muscular build, he reminded her of the men who had murdered her mother.

"I'm sorry, but I can't say."

Jennsen held the hood of her cloak tight against a bitter gust of wind as she struck out again. Before she had taken a dozen steps, he took several long strides and gently grasped her under her upper arm again to drag her to a halt.

"Look," he said in a quiet voice when she scowled at him, "do you even have any supplies?"

Jennsen's scowl withered and she had to fight back the tears of frustration. "Everything is with our horses. The sausage lady, Irma, has everything. Except my money-the cutpurse has that."

"So, you have nothing." It wasn't a question so much as scorn for so simpleminded a plan.

"I have myself and I know what I must do."

"And you intend to strike out for Althea's, in the winter, on foot, without any supplies?"

"I've lived in the woods my whole life. I can get by."

She pulled, but his big hand held her ann securely. "Maybe so, but the Azrith Plains aren't the woods. There's nothing to help you make a shelter. Not a stick of wood to make a fire. After the sun sets it'll get as cold as the Keeper's heart. You don't have any supplies or anything. What are you going to eat?"

This time she more forcefully jerked her arm away and succeeded in freeing it. "I don't have any other choice. You may not understand that, but there are some things that you have to do, even if it means risking your own life, or else life means nothing and isn't worth living."

Before he could stop her again, Jennsen ran into the river of people moving along the makeshift streets. She pushed her way through the crowds, past people selling food and drink she could not buy. It all served to remind her that she had not eaten since the sausage that morning. The knowledge that Sebastian might not live to have another meal gave urgency to her steps.

She turned down the first road going west. With the southern winter sun on the left side of her face, she thought about the sunlight in the palace when she had been at the devotion, and how much it felt like her mother's embrace.

CHAPTER 19

Jennsen wove her way among the people below the plateau, making her way down the haphazard streets, imagining she was stepping among trees, moving through the forests where she felt most at home. That was where she wished she were, in a quiet forest, sheltered among the trees, with her mother, the both of them watching Betty nibble on tender shoots. Some of the people pausing at stalls, or the merchants behind tables, or those strolling along, cast a gaze in Jermsen's direction, but she kept her head bowed and continued along at a brisk pace.

She was worried sick about Betty. The sausage lady, Irma, sold goat meat. That was no doubt why she wanted to buy Betty in the first place. The poor goat was probably heartsick and terrified at being taken away by a stranger. As sick as Jennsen was over Betty, though, and as much as she ached to go find her and have her back, she couldn't put that desire ahead of Sebastian's life.

Passing stands selling food only served to remind her of how hungry she was, especially after the effort of climbing all the stairs up to the palace. She hadn't eaten since that morning and wished she could buy something to eat, now, but there was no hope of that. People cooked over open fires made with wood they no doubt had brought with them. Pans sizzled with butter, garlic, and spices. Smoke from roasting meats drifted past. The aromas were intoxicating and made her hunger nearly unbearable.