After one night in the cell, Qhora was ready to leave. The surgeon had done a fine job stitching up Gaspar’s arm and the young diestro had slept soundly through the night with Hector watching over him. Morning brought no sun, only a brighter haze outside the window. A soldier brought a tray of porridge bowls and as she sat eating her lukewarm breakfast she wondered what Lorenzo might be eating just then. Porridge, she guessed.
When the soldier returned to collect the bowls, he was followed by Salvator Fabris and the Espani major.
“Good morning, Signora Quesada,” Salvator said. “It would seem your husband has abandoned you. I’ve just received a report that he was seen leaving the city this morning before dawn, under cover of darkness, with several confederates. No doubt one of them was the young man who accosted me in the nude last night and then mysteriously vanished from this cell. Now, you and I both know what your husband is going to do. He may have the journal, but I’ve read the journal. Unfortunately, I did not have time to properly analyze all of the information in it. So, my question to you is, where exactly is Lorenzo going now?”
“I wouldn’t tell you if I knew,” she said. “But thank you for informing me that he is now at least two hours ahead of you and therefore far beyond your reach.”
The Italian nodded curtly. “Yes, well, I had rather hoped to simply intercept your husband when he returned from his little expedition, and thus save myself the trouble of following him. But since he didn’t even attempt to save you last night, I can no longer assume if or when he might return for you at all, and I do not like to be kept waiting. So I’ll just have to find another role for you to play. Major, kindly release the lady, shackle her, and place her on my horse. I’m leaving immediately.”
Qhora opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted before she could begin.
“Yes, you are leaving, but the lady will not be accompanying you,” the major said.
“Won’t she?” Salvator turned on the shorter man. “Need I remind you of my letter of command from Lord Admiral Magellan? It clearly states my acting rank as commander, which exceeds yours, major. You will follow my commands or I will find someone else who will. I only overlooked your incompetence regarding the escaped boy because I assumed Don Lorenzo would not leave without his precious wife. But since that is no longer the case, your incompetence is once again at issue.”
Qhora saw a pair of nervous young soldiers hovering in the open doorway across the room.
“Yes, yes.” The major sighed. “Your letter bought my obedience last night when I had no reason to doubt your actions or intentions. But you are persecuting Don Lorenzo Quesada, a war hero, and without offering a single accusation or shred of evidence to warrant such action. And now you have imprisoned the Don’s wife and students, again without charges or evidence. From what you have said this morning, it is clear you are simply abusing these poor people for your own purposes, and that I will not allow.”
Two more soldiers appeared in the doorway.
“Have you any idea what the admiral will do when he learns of this treason?” Salvator asked.
“I very much doubt the admiral will look kindly on your abuses of power, but at any rate, I swore no oath to the admiral or any other officer. I swore my oath to my sovereigns, to Prince Valero and to God.” The major gave his soldiers a little wave of his fingers and the young men filtered into the room to stand behind him. “What you are doing here, sir, violates the Father’s command for justice and the Son’s entreaty for mercy and compassion. So you can report my actions to my superiors however you wish, but you will do so after you leave my barracks, right now.” He gestured to the far door.
“I think not.” Salvator snapped his fingers. “Men, please remove the major and place him under house arrest. And prepare my horse and the lady for my departure. I’ll need an escort of six of your best riders and sharpest shooters.”
Qhora glanced back at Hector and Gaspar on the bench behind her. What will happen to them after Fabris takes me away? Who will look after them?
The soldiers did not move.
“Today, gentlemen,” Salvator said.
The soldiers still did not move.
The major said, “It would seem you have much to learn about what it means to be a soldier, sir. Especially an Espani soldier.”
“Any man who divides his loyalty between two masters is of no use to anyone.” Salvator strode to the far door by himself.
“I disagree,” the major said. “But a man who has no loyalty to anyone is a danger to everyone. Take care, Senor Fabris. I will send my own report on this affair to your admiral, and my general, and perhaps to the minister of war, as well. Good day, sir.”
The door slammed behind Salvator.
Qhora released the breath she was holding. “Thank you, major. I cannot thank you enough. You’ve saved my life, and my husband’s, and his students’ as well. Thank you so much.”
The major shrugged as he unlocked the cell door. “It was nothing, senora. I was merely doing my duty. My only regret is that I did not do so earlier. It is extremely rare that any officer has just cause to question an order, let alone a senior officer. I admit, I was not prepared to do so until this moment.”
She saw how pale the older man had become, his forehead beaded with sweat, his veined hand shaking. When the cell door opened, she stepped out and took his hand. “I understand, and thank you again. I’ve said it before and I’m certain I will say it again, that the Espani are the most honorable people I have ever had the privilege to know. But now I need to go. My husband is still in danger.”
“You mean to pursue this Italian? I would not advise it,” said the major.
“No. I mean to put an end to this business entirely. But I will need you to look after Hector and Gaspar for me.”
“Of course.” The major nodded. “But where are you going?”
“Back to La Seo for my mount, and then to Valencia.”
“I see. Well, I’ve heard that Lord Admiral Magellan is a passionate man, but a good officer and a true patriot. I’m certain he will hear you out and see that justice is served.”
Qhora smiled. “I hope you’re right, major. Hector, Gaspar? Take care of each other and when you’re ready to travel again, I’ll see you back at home in Madrid.”
They all said their farewells and Qhora hurried back through the narrow icy corridors of Zaragoza back to the great cathedral. It took over an hour for the monks to help her pack a single bag of clothing and food while readying Wayra to leave. Most of the brothers wanted to express their seemingly boundless regrets at the invasion of their sanctuary the night before and the harsh treatment Qhora and her companions had suffered while guests under their holy roof. But eventually she was ready and mounted on Wayra’s shoulders once more. The monstrous eagle quorked and hissed as she strutted out into the bright glare of the morning sun reflecting off the icy walls, icy river, and icy snow drifts that covered the city in a glistening shell.
The hour was still early, but many people were already out in the streets on their way to work or already hard at it. The crowds forced Qhora to wind her way along side streets and back streets and any place that offered her a clearer path to the edge of city where she could escape the gasps and stares of the pedestrians and let her feathered hatun-anka run free across the frozen plains. It took nearly half an hour to do so, but when the vast rolling hills of Espana spread out before her she felt all her anxiety about controlling her mount melt away. There was no single road running straight from Zaragoza to Valencia, but Qhora glanced at the sun and noted the nearby mountain peaks and soon she had her bearings.
A light snow began to fall and Qhora folded up the stiff collar of her Espani coat to shield her face. She pressed her tricorn hat tightly over her hair and shook the reins.
“Sah!”
Wayra lowered her head on her long feathered neck and set out at a blistering sprint, her vicious claws slicing and splitting the frozen dirt with every step. The falling snow whipped back into Qhora’s eyes and she felt the tails of her fur coat and Enzo’s old army coat flapping behind her in the wind.
The huge eagle ran and ran. She dashed up and down hills, across roads, and over frozen streams. Time and again they startled some poor rabbit or fox crossing their path and the tiny white creature would bolt away into the half-dead remains of the underbrush to hide. And more than once Qhora cried out to some person ahead, “Pardon me!” just before the towering bird thundered past, leaving children screaming and adults stumbling back in the snow.
At noon she stopped at a small pond, hoping that the ice would prove easy to break and that there would be no angry spirit to contend with, but the ice proved too hard even for Wayra’s iron beak and so they were forced to eat snow, though Lorenzo had often cautioned her not to. They ate sparingly from the rations that the monks had provided and rested on a dry, rocky spot above the pond.
She was just about ready to coax Wayra back up to her feet when a familiar growl caught Qhora’s ear. Searching the northern trail they had been following, she saw a dark shape coming down the hill side. One part of her heart took wing with joy at the sight, while another part shriveled and quaked.
What are you doing here?
A few minutes later a very large saber-toothed cat was butting his head against her hands.
“I’m happy to see you too, my big brave boy,” she said into his thick bristling fur. “But you shouldn’t be here. You should have followed Enzo north. You should be protecting him, not me.”
Atoq merely purred his godlike purr, his entire skull vibrating with the sound.
“It’s all right,” she said. “But we have a long way still to go, and I have no meat for you. You’ll have to hunt for yourself and try to keep up as best you can.”
She stared into his huge golden eyes and tried to force him to understand her words by sheer willpower alone. He blinked and looked away, licking his fangs.
“All right then.” She climbed up into Wayra’s little shoulder saddle and turned to the southeast. “Let’s go.”