“This is not ended,” said Hugh finally. He moved and she flinched, but he was walking away, walking to his bay, mounting, giving the signal.

She let go of the wagon just in time to avoid getting a splinter as it jerked forward and, just in time, grabbed Hanna’s sack out of the back. Hugh did not even seem to notice. Without another word, without any acknowledgment of what he was leaving behind, he rode south, the wagon and his tiny retinue following.

Liath dropped the bag and slumped to the ground.

“Do you need aid?” asked the hawk-nosed woman curiously.

Da’s four books were gone with Hugh, but their texts remained in the city of memory, together with everything else Da had taught her. And Hanna had the other one. “No,” she whispered. “No. I just need to rest a moment.” She looked up to meet the woman’s steady, measuring stare, then broke away from it to look up at Wolfhere. He studied her calmly.

Why? But she could not say it out loud.

“Before you leave, Marshal Liudolf,” said Wolfhere into the silence, “I will write a manumission for her. We do not admit the unfree into the Eagles. I need another witness besides yourself.”

“I will witness, sir,” said Mistress Birta suddenly, stepping forward. “I am a freewoman, born of a freewoman.”

“Ah,” said Wolfhere. “You are Mistress Birta, if I recollect rightly.”

She flushed with surprise and pleasure. “I am, sir.”

“And this, I believe,” he added, transferring his keen gaze to Hanna, “is your daughter, Hanna.”

“Yes, sir, she is.”

“Is it your wish that she might be invested into the king’s service as well?”

Mistress Birta flushed so deeply, and looked so entirely discomposed, that Liath forgot her own fears and hopes for an instant to wonder about Mistress Birta’s secret dreams. “Sir, you must know that for my daughter to become an Eagle would be the greatest honor for my house.”

Wolfhere did not smile. Rather, he nodded gravely, acknowledging the truth of her words. “Let us not keep Marshal Liudolf any longer than need be. We will write and seal the manumission now. Then I have business in Freelas. Since I can see that the girl looks exhausted and is too unwell to travel, I propose that I ride north alone, leaving the girl here for a tenday. If that will suit you, Mistress Birta. Manfred and Hathui will stay as well, in case the frater chooses to attempt something rash. Is that well?”

Birta nodded her head. It was the first time Liath had seen her at a loss for words.

Wolfhere dismounted. Manfred swung down and took the reins of the old man’s horse, and the reins of Hathui’s horse as well, and led the animals away to the stables.

“Hanna,” said Mistress Birta, recovering quickly, as any good innkeeper must, “help him with the horses.” Hanna nodded and hurried after the young man.

Liath tried to stand but could not. In an instant, Hathui had an arm around her. “I’ll help her inside,” said the young Eagle.

“Upstairs,” said Mistress Birta. “In bed, with a bit of dinner in her. She needs to rest.”

“Yes, Mistress,” said Wolfhere genially, “I see I can trust you to take best care of her. Marshal Liudolf, shall we finish our business?”

Liudolf’s reply was lost to Liath as she entered the warm confines of the inn common room. She barely made it up the stairs, even with Hathui’s support, and when she collapsed onto the bed, she simply laid her head down, shut her eyes, and let herself be overcome with the exhaustion of hope fulfilled.

She was free of Hugh. She still had the book. She was an Eagle. All that she needed now was to get her strength back. She could scarcely believe it was true. She slept.

3

LATER Mistress Birta brought her a bowl of bean soup and good dark bread. Hunger brought her fully awake and she wolfed down her food. She hadn’t realized she was famished. Mistress Birta retreated as Wolfhere entered the little attic room. He sat on the edge of the pallet and held out a simple brass ring engraved with the seal of the King’s Eagles. He smelled of rain and of damp wool. She took the ring gingerly, and while she held it, not sure what to do, she heard the patter of rain on the roof. Cloudy light slanted through the closed shutters. She had slept most of the day. “This ring represents the seal of our bargain,” said Wolfhere mildly, “that you will offer your name and lineage to the Eagles as payment for your service with them.”

She was afraid to look at him. “My name is Liath,” she said, but her voice sounded false to her own ears. “My father’s name was Bernard.”