The Pillars of Creation

Chapter 30

Jennsen and Sebastian rode north and west, across the Azrith Plains, not far from where only that morning she had ridden back with Tom in his wagon from the swamp around Althea’s place. Her visit to Althea only the day before, along with the treacherous journey through the swamp, seemed remote to her, now. She had spent most of the day getting up into the palace, talking her way past guards and officials, getting Sebastian released, bluffing the Mord-Sith, Nyda, into helping them, and getting down and out of the plateau with Wizard Rahl at their heels. With so much of the day already gone, they weren’t able to travel a great distance before darkness descended and they had to make camp out in the open plain.

“With those cutthroats not all that far away, we don’t dare make a fire,” Sebastian said when he saw her shivering. “They could spot us from miles away and if we’re night-blinded by a fire we would never know they were sneaking up on us.”

Overhead, the moonless sky was a vast glittering mantle of stars. Jennsen thought about what Althea said, that a bird could be seen on a moonless night by noting the stars it blocked out as it passed overhead. She said that was how she could see one who was a hole in the world. Jennsen saw no bird, just three coyotes in the distance, trotting along on a night patrol of their territory. In the flat, empty land, they were easy enough to spot by starlight alone as they went on their hunt for small nocturnal animals.

With numb fingers, Jennsen untied her bedroll from the back of the saddle and pulled it down. “And where would you propose we get the wood to make a fire, anyway?”

Sebastian turned and stared at her. A smile stole onto his face. “I never thought of that. I guess we couldn’t have a fire even if we wanted one.”

She scrutinized the empty plain as she dragged the saddle off of Rusty’s back and laid it on the ground near Sebastian. Even with only the cold starlight, she could make out things well enough. “If anyone approached, we could see them coming. Do you think one of us should keep watch through the night?”

“No. Without a campfire and not moving, they’d never find us out in this great dark expanse. I think it would be better to get some sleep so we can make good time tomorrow.”

With the horses picketed, she used her saddle for a seat. As she unfurled her bedroll, Jennsen found two white cloth bundles inside. She knew she hadn’t put any such things in her bedroll. She undid the knot at the top of one bundle and discovered a meat pie inside. She saw, then, Sebastian making the same discovery.

“Looks like the Creator has provided for us,” he said.

Jennsen smiled as she stared down at the meat pie in her lap. “Tom left these.”

Sebastian didn’t ask how she knew. “The Creator has provided for us through Tom. Brother Narev says that even when we think someone has provided for us, it is actually the Creator working through them. We in the Old World believe that when we give to someone in need, we are really doing the Creator’s good works. That’s why the welfare of others is our sacred duty.”

Jennsen said nothing, fearing that if she did, he might think she was criticizing Brother Narev, or even the Creator. She couldn’t dispute the word of a great man like Brother Narev. She had never done any good works like Brother Narev had. She had never even left anyone meat pies or done anything else helpful. It seemed to her that she brought only trouble and suffering to people—her mother, Lathea, Althea, Friedrich, and who knew how many others. If any force worked through her, it certainly wasn’t the Creator.

Sebastian, perhaps seeing something of her thoughts in her expression, spoke softly. “That’s why I’m helping you—I believe it’s what the Creator would want me to do. That’s how I know Brother Narev and Emperor Jagang would approve of me helping you. This is the very thing we’re fighting for—to have people care about others by sharing their burdens.”

She smiled not just her appreciation, but also at the notion of such noble intentions. Noble intentions, though, which, for reasons she didn’t even fully understand, felt to her like a knife in the back.

Jennsen looked up from the meat pie in her lap. “So, that’s why you’re helping me, then.” Her smile was forced. “Because it’s your duty.”

Sebastian looked almost as if he’d been slapped. “No.” He came closer, going down on one knee. “No. I . . . in the beginning, of course, but . . . it’s not just duty.”

“You make it sound like I’m a leper you think you have to—”

“No—that’s not it at all.” As he searched for words, that radiant smile of his came to his face, that smile that made her heart ache. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Jennsen. I swear, I’ve never laid my eyes on a woman as beautiful as you, or as smart. You make me feel like I’m . . . like I’m a nobody. But then when you smile at me, I feel like I’m someone important. I’ve never met anyone who made me feel this way. At first it was duty, but now, I swear . . .”

Jennsen sat in shock at hearing him say such things, at hearing the tender sincerity, the earnest pleading, in his voice.

“I never knew.”

“I should never have kissed you. I know it was wrong. I’m a soldier in the army against oppression. My life is devoted to the cause of helping my people—all people. I don’t have anything to offer a woman like you.”

She couldn’t imagine why he would think he had to offer her something. He had saved her life. “Then, why did you kiss me?”

He gazed into her eyes, looking as if he had to pull words up from some great painful depth. “I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry. I tried not to. I knew it was wrong, but when we were that close, and I was looking into your beautiful eyes, and your arms were holding me, and I was holding you . . . I’d never wanted anything so much in my life . . . I just couldn’t help myself. I had to. I’m sorry.”

Jennsen’s gaze fell away. She stared down at the meat pie. Sebastian pulled the familiar mask of composure around himself and sat back down on his saddle.

“Don’t feel sorry,” she whispered without looking up. “I liked the kiss.”

He sat forward expectantly. “You did?”

Jennsen nodded. “I’m glad to hear that it wasn’t done out of duty.”

That made him smile and eased the tension.

“No duty ever felt that good,” he said.

Together, they laughed—something she couldn’t even remember doing. It felt good to laugh.

As Jennsen devoured one of the meat pies, relishing the flavorful spices and savory chunks of meat, she felt good again. She hoped she hadn’t been too hard on Tom for forgetting about Betty. She had let her frustrations, fear, and anger come out at him. He was a good man. He had helped her when she needed it most.

Her thoughts lingered on Tom, on how good she had felt when she was around him. He made her feel important, feel confident in herself, whereas Sebastian often made her feel humble. Tom had a handsome smile—a different kind of handsome than Sebastian’s smile. Tom had a hearty smile. Sebastian had an inscrutable smile. Tom’s smile made her feel secure and strong. Sebastian’s smile made her feel defenseless and weak.

After she had eaten every crumb of the meat pie, Jennsen wrapped herself in blankets over the top of her cloak. Still shivering, she remembered how Betty had kept them warm at night. In the silence, her sense of gloom returned to haunt her, refusing to allow her to fall asleep, despite her exhaustion from everything she had been through the last couple of days.

She didn’t look forward to the forlorn prospect of what the future might hold for her. She could foresee only an endless hunt until Lord Rahl’s men finally caught her. She felt empty without her mother, without Betty. She realized that she didn’t have any idea where she would go, now, other than to keep running. She had been intent on Althea’s help, but even that had proved to be an empty dream. In some distant corner of her mind, Jennsen had held out a spark of irrational hope that going to her childhood home of the People’s Palace might somehow hold a favorable resolution.

She shivered not only with the cold, but with the bleak prospect of what the future held.

Sebastian inched his back up close to her, protecting her from the wind. The idea of it being more than duty to him was a comfort. She thought about what it felt like to have his body pressed against the length of her. She thought about the intoxicating feel of his mouth against hers.

His words that had so surprised her, “I’ve never laid my eyes on a woman as beautiful as you,” still echoed around in her head. She wasn’t sure that she believed him. Maybe she was afraid to believe him.

The first day she had met him he made several complimentary remarks, the first about how people might say the dead soldier saw a beautiful young woman strutting along and thus tripped and fell to his death, and then “Sebastian’s rule,” as he called it, giving her the dead soldier’s ornate knife, saying beauty belonged with beauty. She had never trusted words offered so effortlessly.

She thought again about the sincerity in his eyes, this time, and how surprisingly tongue-tied and awkward he’d seemed. Insincerity was often smoothly delivered, but matters of the heart were more difficult to express because so much was at stake.

It surprised her to hear that her smile made him feel important. She hadn’t suspected that he might feel the same kinds of emotions she felt. She hadn’t suspected how good it would feel to have a man like Sebastian, a man of the world, an important man, think she was beautiful. Jennsen always felt graceless and plain compared with her mother. She liked knowing that someone thought she was beautiful.

She wondered what it would be like if he rolled over, right there, and embraced her again, kissed her again, this time with no one around. She could feel her heart pounding at the very prospect.

“I’m sorry about your goat,” he whispered in the silence, his back still to her.

“I know.”

“But with Wizard Rahl after us and still this close, the goat would only slow us down.”

As much as she loved Betty, Jennsen knew she had to put other things first. Still, she would give almost anything to hear that singular bleat of Betty’s voice, or see her little upright tail wagging in a blur as her whole body wiggled with the excitement of Jennsen’s greeting. Jennsen could feel the lumps of carrots under her head in the pack she was using as a pillow.

She knew they couldn’t stay and search for Betty, but that didn’t make it any easier to know they were leaving her for good. It broke her heart.

Jennsen looked back over her shoulder in the darkness. “Did they hurt you? I was so worried that they would hurt you.”

“That Mord-Sith would have. You came just in time.”

“What did it feel like when she touched you with the Agiel?”

Sebastian thought a moment. “Like being hit by lightning, I suppose.”

Jennsen laid her head back down on the pack. She wondered why she had felt nothing from the power of Mord-Sith’s weapon. He had to be wondering that same thing, but if he was, he didn’t ask. She would have had no answer for him, anyway. Nyda had been astonished, too, and said that her Agiel worked on everyone. Nyda was wrong. For some reason, Jennsen found that strangely worrisome.