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He smiled absently, his gaze searching beyond her to the village. “Not for nothing. It’s always best to be prepared.”
True enough. Life this close to the border meant raiders, smugglers, and the like. But she had panicked, and she knew it. She pulled away. Hugged herself close and rubbed her arms, not daring to glance over her shoulder at the approaching visitors.
“What frightened you so?” he said. “You aren’t a skittish girl.”
She flushed in embarrassment. “I … I can’t explain.”
“Try,” he said softly. “And be quick, before Louka starts a war.”
She snorted back a laugh at the thought of Louka, charging off with his wooden spear. The panic leached away, and she could talk properly now, though Lir and Toc only knew if the story would make sense, even so. “I saw a horse and a rider,” she said. “The rider looked like a bag at first. All floppy and weak. And there’s another one on foot. Neither of them were soldiers, but … I smelled something very strange, Jannik. Like fresh-cut hay, or sun on the grass, or…”
“Or like Lir’s breath upon the world, when all was new,” he said softly.
She recognized the words as poetry. Jannik Maier liked such things. He was the only one in all of Ryz who cared about books. Nonsense, her father called it. But hearing the words spoken now, with the taste and scent of strangeness upon her tongue, she thought otherwise.
“Just so,” she said. “Like stars in the moonlight.”
Stars that shone brighter and sharper than any she’d seen. Her vision flickered, remembering the brush with that unearthly breeze. She shook her head, but she could not rid herself of that strong impression.
Jannik nodded. “You were doubly right to warn me. Thank you. Now to deal with Louka and his warriors.” He took up his staff, then fetched a shirt.
“They might be right,” she said. “Remember those bandits. And there’s talk of war…”
Though he was turning away, he stopped. “I remember. For that, I ask you to take the children and old ones into the wood above.”
He headed down the footpath into the village, drawing on his shirt as he walked, to where half the men and several women had gathered. Maryshka followed to the nearest cabin. Nela JanaCek had already emerged with her daughter, Agáta. “Trouble?” Nela said.
“We don’t know yet,” Maryshka said. “But Jannik wants the little ones taken away.”
It was one of the many drills that Jannik had insisted the villagers learn, ever since Vila Maier had died eight years ago and his son took over as speaker. Arm themselves for defense. Gather the youngest and oldest and take them into the forest above Ryz, leaving the grown men and women to fight. If those strangers were more than two wanderers, if something went wrong, they could retreat into the mountains and send word north to the garrison at Dubro.
Nela disappeared into her cabin and reappeared with two knives. She gave one to Maryshka. “I’ll wake Eva and help her with the babies. And you,” she said to her daughter. “Go to Ela.”
“I’ll help Vera with her monsters,” Maryshka said.
She tucked the knife in her sash and swept down through the village, past Jannik arguing with Louka Hasek. Louka and a few others carried clubs, staffs sharpened to points, and other weapons. Maryshka wanted to shake them all, even the speaker. If those were bandits, they’d have us killed already, with everyone chattering.
No use scolding them. It was the same panic that had infected her. She hurried to Vera JanaCek’s house and gave the news. Vera drew a sharp breath, but the next moment, she had scooped up her youngest and handed him to Maryshka. “Take him, please. I’ll get the others.”
“And a knife,” Maryshka reminded her.
Vera’s only answer was a wave of her hand. Maryshka left her to the rest of her brood. With a wriggling Priba JanaCek on her hip, she jogged on to the next house and the next. She gathered up children and led them up the main path into the thick green forests above Ryz. Others—younger friends and cousins—followed. Maryshka hushed their murmuring, glad they listened. It was her mother’s influence. They both tended Ryz’s sick and wounded, which lent them a certain authority. Renata Lendl and Alexej Zenkl were another matter. Old and stubborn, they both complained without a stop as Maryshka herded them toward the path leading around the barn and up the ridge.
That left only the older boys.
“Damek!” she called to her brother.
He ignored her. Jan Hasek glanced around.
“Damek. You and your friends. Follow me.” She pointed to the heights above. “I need all of you to help with the little ones.”
To her relief, Jan and his brother Marek obeyed. The rest clustered around Jannik Maier with their weapons raised high. Stupid idiot boys. She marched over to her brother and grabbed his arm. “Do what I say,” she hissed. “Now.”
He glared at her from under his disheveled hair. Only fifteen, she thought. Too young and too old at the same time, for all the things he wanted. “I need your help,” she said softly. “If you go, the others will, too.”
Damek grinned. It was an obvious bit of flattery, to be sure. “Honey-talk isn’t like you. But I’ll do it.”
He and Maryshka detached the remaining boys from the crowd. Meanwhile, Jannik Maier gave out orders to the men and women. “You.” Jannik pointed to Vilém Berger and Ilja Lendl. “Come with me. The rest of you pair off and take your positions behind the houses and barns…”
