"Back in the woods with you, girl," the governor said as he walked over. "The sun is falling, and we'll lose what little light we have. You can set this wretch's spirit at ease with the others." He waved Faiban to her, then turned to two of the villagers. "You go with her as well. It'll soon be too dark to fumble in the forest, following her whistle."
Ashyn set out to continue the Seeking, and tried not to think about the dead man in the grove, still leaking his lifeblood into the soil.
Six
Of course, Ashyn did keep thinking about the dead man. Cecil, she told herself. He had a name. Use it. Remember it.
One moment, he was there, talking. And then he was lying beside his severed head. How could she stop thinking about that? How could anyone?
Yet as she looked into the forest, she wondered what sort of crimes he had committed. The empire said only the worst came here, and yet . . . She swallowed. And yet she knew better, didn't she? Her own parents had nearly ended up in this forest, for a crime no greater than trying to protect their infant daughters.
At first, their mother had told no one she'd borne twins. She'd kept the girls hidden and told the neighbors that she wished to take her newborn daughter to her own village. She'd sent a note to her husband, on a trade mission.
While most twin girls were simply ordina
ry children, there was the chance they could be divinely blessed. The Seeker and the Keeper. In order to learn that, though, they had to be tested. That test . . . it was a parent's worst nightmare. And failure to inform their governor of the birth meant both parents would be exiled to the Forest of the Dead.
Before their mother could leave, the midwife came to call. Their mother brought out one of the girls--and the other, never separated from her wombmate, began to wail. When the twins were discovered, their mother took her own life and left a note absolving her husband from all responsibility. Their father was allowed to live.
Ashyn was quite certain Cecil had no such tragic story behind his exile. As much as Ashyn tried to hold on to what she believed, that image wouldn't go away. Of the man who'd been there. And then was not.
It was nearly dark now. As Faiban held the lantern, Ashyn knelt beside the corpse of a man past his sixtieth summer. Too old to be exiled.
The body was better preserved than most of the others. He must have lived into the winter, frozen until spring, just beginning to rot now. He still looked human. White hair. Lined and weather-beaten face. His dark eyes stared up in shock.
This man had seen death coming, as Ashyn knew from the vision he'd sent. She knew how he'd felt teeth rip into his throat. How he'd tried to fight. How his spirit had hovered there, watching his killer tear into his flesh, devouring it. His spirit had still been watching when his killer had died, choking on a finger bone.
Ashyn looked over at the second body. It lay only steps from the first. A woman. The fever had taken her. Ashyn had seen that in her vision. Wild-haired and crazed, she'd ripped the man apart, mumbling about venison, sweet venison, thanking the spirits for their mercy, and Ashyn realized she hadn't seen a man at all--she'd thought she'd killed a deer.
"My lady?" Faiban whispered.
She looked up at him. How am I supposed to handle this? she wanted to ask.
Ellyn had warned her that death in the forest was not pleasant. Healer Mabill had said the same. Ashyn had paid little mind. Of course it wouldn't be pleasant. Death never was.
Moria had understood. That's why she'd insisted on coming along. I don't need protection, Ashyn had said. I have my dagger. But that wasn't the kind of protection Moria had meant. She'd understood what Ashyn might find, and she'd known her sister wasn't prepared to deal with it. Not alone.
"My lady?"
Ashyn took a deep breath and rose. "Can you take both?" she asked the two volunteers.
"We'll try," one said as he pulled on his thick gloves.
"Good. Stay at the camp afterward. We'll look about a little more before joining you."
The villagers began to wrap the first body. Ashyn motioned to Faiban, and they headed into the growing darkness.
So far, Ashyn had located eleven bodies. There had been sixteen exiled since last spring's Seeking, plus two that hadn't been found then. So she had seven left to find. There was also the possibility of locating the remains of long-dead exiles whose spirits haunted these woods. But if she found the seven, she would be done. She'd have one more day to do it. Then they headed home. It was too dangerous to be in the forest longer, and they had brought only enough supplies for two days.
She was calculating this as she moved away from the bodies.
"It's growing late, my lady," Faiban said.
"Just one more try," she said. "There's still light."
He squinted into the near-darkness. "The governor expects--"
A shriek cut him short. He wheeled, sword raised.