The Gathering Storm Read Online Free PDF Page A

woman in the green dress. She had pressed forward to listen,and now sat on a pillow beside Theophanu’s chair. “Marvels and wonders. Snakes that drink blood. One-legged men who hop everywhere. Did you see such things in the marshlands, Eagle?”
    “Nay, I did not, my lady, but we did not ride even so far as the kingdom of Ungria. Most of the time I was in the march of the Villams, or in Avaria and even here into Saony. I do not know what lies beyond Ungria—”
    Except that in her dreams she did know, for she had seen the Kerayit princess Sorgatani wandering in desert lands or through forests of grass growing higher than a man’s head. She had felt the claws of a living griffin grip her shoulders. She had touched the silver-and-gold scales of dragons heaped into dunes on the edge of habitable lands. She had seen the tents of the fabled Bwr people, whose bodies combined those of humankind and horse.
    “Any expedition to the east must prove dangerous, and might take years to complete, if he even returns at all.” Theophanu beckoned. A servingwoman brought forward a silver cup on a wooden platter with sides carved in the likeness of twining ivy. “Here, Leoba.” She offered the cup to the noblewoman sitting at her feet.
    “Is Aosta closed to us?” Leoba took the cup but did not drink. “How can it be that a messenger comes to us from Prince Sanglant, but not from King Henry? Why have we heard no news from Aosta when so many troubles assail us here? Where is the king?”
    “And where is your venerable husband?” Theophanu smiled fondly at her companion. “I am no less troubled than you. It seems strange to me that I have sent three Eagles separately to Aosta and yet no word has come to us from my father.”
    “With winter setting in, there’ll be none who can cross the Alfar Mountains.” Like Theophanu, Leoba was young and robust, but she had a hound’s eagerness in her face, ready to fling herself forward into the hunt, in contrast to Theophanu’s calm.
    “We must wait.” Theophanu took the cup and sipped while her attendants whispered. A tapestry hung in the room between shuttered windows, so darkly woven that lamplightbarely illuminated the images depicted there: a saintly figure impaled by knives. Hanna’s hip twinged as if in sympathy as she shifted on the bench. A servant padded forward to refill the wine cup, and the princess sipped, eyes shuttered, as though she were mulling over a difficult question. She spoke in an altered voice, so smooth it seemed doubly dangerous.
    “There is one thing that puzzles me, Eagle. You bring me a message from my brother, Sanglant. You speak of the death of Prince Bayan of Ungria, and of other worthy folk, in the battle against the Quman invaders. But you have spoken no word of Princess Sapientia. You served her once, I believe. What has become of her?”
    The question startled Hanna, although she ought to have expected it. “She lives, Your Highness.”
    “Where is she? Where is her army? Why have these Lions been sent at Sanglant’s order, and not hers? Is she injured? Lost? Separated from the army?”
    “Nay, Your Highness. She rides with Prince Sanglant.”
    “How can it be that my brother sends me greetings, but my sister does not? Wasn’t she named by Henry as heir to the throne of Wendar and Varre?”
    Spiteful words came easily to her tongue. “Prince Sanglant commands the army, Your Highness. Princess Sapientia does not.”
    The courtiers murmured, a warm buzz of surprise and speculation.
    Only Theophanu seemed unmoved by Hanna’s statement. “Are you saying he has taken from her what is rightfully hers to command?”
    “I cannot know what is in the mind of princes, Your Highness. I can only witness, and report.”
    “Where goes Sapientia now?”
    “East to Ungria with Prince Bayan’s body.”
    “Did she consent to this journey, or was it forced on her?”
    All the anger boiled back. Hadn’t Sanglant betrayed her and all those who had suffered