Melina Marchetta - Quintana of Charyn

By now a crowd had gathered around them, calling out questions, realising this was no drunken foolery by the younger lads.

Lucian settled them down, knowing their silence would be short-lived the moment he spoke the words, ‘Vestie is gone.’ And short-lived it was. Questions were shouted at him from all directions, the women crying out their fear as they surrounded Beatriss, alarming her even more. Worst were Jory and the lads, whipped into a frenzy of fury. Jory’s response to Phaedra’s death had been anger. The lad wasn’t aware that it was grief he was feeling, and perhaps Lucian and the Monts had not realised until these past weeks that Jory was no longer a boy.

‘Stop!’ Lucian ordered above the noise. He pointed a finger at the lads who were the last to obey. He waited for silence again. ‘Everyone search around your homes. Jory, ride down towards the valley and ask the cottagers to start searching the middle mountain. You lot,’ he said, pointing to his younger cousins, ‘check the woods. Knock on every door. Juno, take your lads and head towards Balconio.’

Lucian turned to Lady Beatriss. ‘Maybe she woke up feeling lost and is trying to make her way home?’

Lady Beatriss shook her head and he could see she was holding back tears.

‘There is an explanation, Lady Beatriss. You know that. It’s what Trevanion would tell you if he were here.’

All morning, Vestie’s name rang throughout the mountain. Every cottage was searched, every footstep traced, every shrine to the Goddess filled with garlands. Lucian knew of Vestie’s gift for walking the sleep, but he had never known anyone to become so lost in the dream that it took them from their beds.

And then, midmorning, Jory returned, his face pale, clutching a mitten in his hand. Lady Beatriss took it and held it to her face, weeping.

‘She has to be in the valley, Lucian,’ Jory said. ‘It’s the only explanation.’

Lucian caught his breath. It had been weeks since Phaedra’s death and he had only made the journey to the valley twice. At night, in a panic, he would wake up afraid he had abandoned Phaedra’s companions to the mercy of the cutthroat camp leader, Donashe, and his men. No matter how many times he reminded himself that the valley dwellers were not his people, Lucian felt a fierce sense of guilt.

‘We should have had our sentinels down in the valley,’ Tesadora said, her voice blunt and accusing.

‘But we don’t,’ Lucian argued. He had used the threat of the plague as a reason to stop sending down the lads, but he knew there was no such danger anymore. He looked around at those waiting for the next order. ‘Lady Beatriss, you wait –’

‘Don’t ask me to do that, Lucian. I’m coming with you.’

He didn’t even attempt to instruct Tesadora. She was coming down to the valley whether Lucian liked it or not.

‘ Yata ,’ he sighed. ‘Go back to the house, in case Vestie returns. Jory and Yael, come with me. Everyone else, stay.’

When they reached the bottom of the mountain, Lucian did what he always did: asked his father for guidance. What would Saro do? Cross the stream and accuse the Charynites of taking a Lumateran child, after all the valley dwellers had endured with the death of five of their women and the slaughter of Rafuel’s men? Would Lucian ask for help from the murderous camp leaders, or would he accuse them of taking Vestie? Could he trust Rafuel, who now seemed a stranger to them? At the campsite on the Lumateran side of the valley where Tesadora had once camped with her girls, he dared to look through the trees in the hope of catching a glimpse of his wife crossing the stream.

That’s why you haven’t returned here, Lucian. Because you see her everywhere.

‘Jory, you cross the stream and see what you can find out. They’ll trust you. Remember, no accusations. I don’t care what the camp leaders say, we cannot have Kasabian and the others thinking we believe they hurt one of our own.

‘Yael, you watch Jory from one of the trees and holler for me the moment there’s trouble. Lady Beatriss, Tesadora and I will continue down this side of the stream and see what we can find. We’ll meet you back here.’

As they travelled further downstream he could see Phaedra’s people in their caves through the copse of trees.

‘She would never have come this far,’ Beatriss said when they were deep within the woods. ‘Perhaps … perhaps she tried to cross the stream. The ice is beginning to melt on the mountain and the force of it could have carried her away.’

‘Beatriss,’ Tesadora said firmly, ‘she swims better than any child we know.’

Lucian doubted greatly that Vestie was swept away by the stream. Lucian knew that teaching Vestie to swim was the first thing Trevanion had done for Lady Beatriss and the child she bore during the curse when they were reunited three years past. It had created a bond between the Captain and his former lover’s child. Today, they were a family and the union had been one of the most joyous occasions for Lumaterans.

Suddenly he saw a movement, heard the snap of a twig and the rustle of leaves and the strangest of giggles.

‘Vestie!’ he called out, racing towards the sound. Beatriss and Tesadora were with him, calling out her name. ‘Vestie!’

But there was nothing. They stood a moment to listen, hearing only the sound of a bird mocking. Then he saw the movement again and Lucian was running, leaping over half-fallen limbs, avoiding the tree shoots that caught at his ankle.

‘Vestie!’

‘Vestie!’

‘Vestie, my love!’

Lucian continued his pursuit until he heard the sound of heavy breath, rasping for air. But it was not the breathing of a child. He stopped, and held up a hand to Tesadora who appeared close behind.

‘Vestie, it’s Lucian! Are you hiding?’

Beatriss entered the clearing and Tesadora placed a finger to her lips.

‘I’ll not be angry,’ Lucian said. ‘I promise, Vestie darlin’.’

He knew she was close, but not alone, and that alarmed Lucian more than he cared to admit. He took a step closer, and there he saw them. Huddled in the hollow of a tree trunk. A girl with crazed eyes held a hand over Vestie’s mouth. A bloody dagger was clasped in her other hand.

He heard Beatriss’s cry behind him and he saw Vestie look up, startled to see them all. Startled, but not frightened. Beatriss rushed forward, but the strange girl snarled, and Lucian gripped Beatriss’s hand and dragged her gently behind him.

‘Please don’t hurt her,’ Beatriss begged the girl. ‘Please.’

Lucian moved towards the girl, a hand at the scabbard of his sword. He knew with certainty that he would slice this wretch’s hand clear off her body if she didn’t let go of Vestie at his command.

‘Vestie, step away from her,’ he ordered gently. Vestie stared at the sword and suddenly began to weep, confused. Was she waking from walking in her sleep? He moved closer and the most savage of sounds came from the girl, and she held the dagger out before her, waving it in Lucian’s face. He retrieved his sword from its scabbard slowly, not once losing eye contact with her.

‘Lucian, come back,’ Tesadora ordered. ‘You’re scaring them.’

But Lucian refused, and when he almost reached them, the savage girl clenched her teeth, dragging Vestie deeper into the hollow of the tree.

‘Lucian, please stop,’ Beatriss cried. ‘She’ll hurt her.’

Lucian shook his head, refusing to move away.

‘Do not let me have to explain to Trevanion why I put my sword down while someone held a dagger to his daughter.’

Tesadora walked before him. His hand caught her arm to pull her backwards, but she shrugged free.

‘I know what I’m doing,’ she said, her eyes fastened on the girl, who stared, almost transfixed. When Tesadora was only a step away from Vestie and the girl, Lucian heard a bloodcurdling snarl, but suddenly Tesadora’s hand snaked out and gripped the girl’s face.