Snow had fallen heavily overnight, burying the settlement beneath a fresh white covering. Vesaria crossed the yard with the other women, watching two guards change places beside the rear gate before following Freya into the workhall.
She had two days left to escape, and for all her efforts, she had little to show for them. She knew where the provisions were kept and which paths led beyond the settlement, but the grey mare she had hoped to take was now locked behind an iron bolt. Knowing where to find what she needed was proving considerably easier than stealing it.
Inside the workhall, women sorted herbs and stirred steaming vats while smoke lingered beneath the rafters. Vesaria reached for a basket of dried fish, but the headwoman thrust a heavier one into her arms and pointed toward another table. Vesaria swallowed a sharp retort and carried it over, silently resenting how easily these women ordered her about.
Several women were packing smoked meat, dried fish, and hard bread for hunters leaving at dawn. Vesaria set down her basket, her irritation fading as she eyed the provisions.
She needed food for her escape, and here was plenty within reach. Taking a place beside an older woman, she watched her wrap the meat in cloth and secure it with twine before copying her movements, already wondering how much she could conceal without being noticed.
Vesaria folded the cloth around each portion and tied it as she had been shown, but her first bundle fell apart when she lifted it. The older woman clicked her tongue and retied it with an impatient tug.
She suppressed a scowl and tried again, working steadily until the woman turned away to help someone else. Seizing her chance, she slipped two strips of meat beneath the cloth in her lap and continued packing.
When the woman reached toward her, Vesaria stiffened, certain she had been caught, but the woman merely corrected another loose knot. Vesaria lowered her eyes, keeping the stolen meat hidden against her thigh until the others began carrying the finished provisions away.
She slipped the strips into her sleeve and helped clear the table, careful not to let the meat fall against her wrist.
She tried taking a discarded length of cord from beneath the bench, but the headwoman spotted it wound around her basket handle, snatched it away, and returned it to a shelf. Vesaria bit back another retort. Apparently, even discarded bindings had their proper place.
By midday, she had secured only two strips of meat. The women guarded their stores too carefully for her to take much more, and she still needed a bag to carry her supplies. She was considering how to get one from the storeroom when the headwoman thrust a basket of bark into her hands and sent her toward the smokehouse.
Vesaria carried it past the granary, where the rear service gate opened onto a track leading into the woods. The guards usually ignored women delivering supplies, and today both were occupied with a cart stuck in the snow.
The gate stood open.
Beyond it, a narrow track curved between the pines and disappeared behind a ridge. Vesaria studied it briefly before delivering the bark to the smokehouse, then took the empty basket around the building toward the eastern woodpiles, where the fence ended against a rocky slope.
There was enough space between the rocks and trees for someone to pass on foot, though no cart or horse could manage the narrow passage. Vesaria glanced back toward the smokehouse, then stepped beyond the fence, picking her way through the snow toward the trees. The guards were still occupied with the cart, and no one appeared to be watching her.
For one tempting moment, she considered continuing into the forest and leaving Azgar to discover his captive had vanished. But the cold was already seeping through her boots, and she had neither enough food nor any idea which path led south.
Even if she escaped the settlement on foot, how far could she get before Azgar sent mounted men after her?
Escaping only to freeze or lose herself in the mountains would accomplish nothing.
Still, she could at least see where the trail went.
She had barely started down the slope when a woman carrying firewood called, "Zalka!" Vesaria turned to find her beckoning urgently. When Vesaria glanced toward the trees instead, the woman abandoned her firewood and hurried after her, catching her sleeve before she could go farther.
Vesaria offered a confused smile, hoping to pass off her wandering as another innocent mistake, but the woman shook her head and began speaking rapidly in Northern. She pointed toward the forest, then drew a finger across her throat.
Vesaria's smile faltered. What?
The woman tightened her grip on Vesaria's sleeve, and when Vesaria tried to pull free, she only shook her head harder, glancing toward the trees with unmistakable fear. Wolves, perhaps, or raiders. Whatever frightened her, she seemed convinced that Vesaria would not survive an encounter with it.
The woman practically dragged her uphill, refusing to release her until they reached the service gate. There, she spoke sharply to one of the guards, gesturing toward the forest. His expression changed as he listened, and he looked past Vesaria toward the narrow passage between the rocks before calling another guard over.
Vesaria stood between them, understanding nothing except that her little excursion had attracted far more attention than she intended. When she attempted to leave, the first guard held out an arm to stop her and asked something in Northern.
"I was only walking," she said, pointing toward the smokehouse. "I lost my way."
Neither man appeared to understand. The woman repeated something, and the guard frowned before pointing firmly toward the settlement. This time, when Vesaria started walking, one of the men followed her as far as the smokehouse before returning to his post.
She resisted the urge to look back. If the guards had been instructed to keep her within the settlement, she had just given them good reason to watch her more closely.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Back in the workhall, Freya greeted her with a cheerful remark and pushed a bowl of roots toward her. Vesaria took up a knife and began cutting, but her thoughts remained on the forest.
The woman's fear had seemed genuine, and the guards had taken her warning seriously enough to abandon their work at the gate. Whatever lay beyond the trees, it was apparently dangerous enough to frighten people who had lived here all their lives.
She glanced toward the door when a man's voice rose outside, then returned to her work, forcing herself to concentrate on the roots beneath her knife.
The narrow passage might allow her to slip beyond the fence unnoticed, but it would do her little good if she stumbled into something worse than Azgar's guards.
And now the guards had another reason to watch her.
By late afternoon, fresh snow had begun falling, and the women were putting away their tools. While gathering scraps beneath the worktables, Vesaria discovered a small cloth sack beside a basket of damaged linen. Its bottom seam had split, but the fabric was otherwise sound. She tucked it beneath her apron while Freya carried the rubbish outside.
As Vesaria crossed the yard, several riders entered through the main gate, Azgar leading them on his black stallion. She slowed beside the communal hall, watching the powerful animal toss its head as a groom approached to take the reins. Azgar murmured something in Northern and stroked its neck, settling it almost immediately.
A horse like that could carry her far beyond the settlement before anyone discovered her missing. Better still, stealing the Khan's own mount would be a humiliation he would not soon forget.
Vesaria imagined Azgar learning that the woman he had dragged north against her will had escaped on his finest stallion, leaving him to explain the loss to his warriors.
The thought brought a small, wicked smile to her lips.
Then the stallion snapped at the groom's sleeve, sending the man stumbling backward.
Her smile faded. She knew how to ride, but the horses she had ridden in the South had always been saddled and brought to her by servants.
Even if she managed to enter the stables unnoticed, she would have to accomplish that in the dark, with an animal that might not tolerate her approaching it.
Azgar's stallion looked particularly unlikely to cooperate.
Across the yard, Azgar caught her watching. Vesaria held his gaze briefly before turning away, but before she could leave, one of the guards from the rear gate approached him. She recognized the man immediately and slowed, watching him gesture toward the eastern side of the settlement as he spoke.
Azgar listened without interrupting. Then his gaze returned to Vesaria, and whatever satisfaction she had taken in imagining herself stealing his horse promptly vanished.
She continued toward her quarters before he could summon her, though she could feel his eyes following her across the yard. He had already questioned her interest in the stables, and now he would hear about her wandering near the forest. At this rate, she would have half the settlement watching her before she ever reached the gate.
~*~*~*~*~*~
That night, Vesaria mended the stolen sack beside the hearth, then tucked the two strips of dried meat and her braided cord inside. It was scarcely enough to sustain her for a day, much less carry her south, and she still needed boots, a cloak, and a horse she could actually manage.
The grey mare remained her best chance, provided she could get into the locked stall and somehow saddle her without assistance.
Azgar's stallion would be faster, but she had seen what happened when a groom approached him without permission, and she had no desire to discover whether he treated strangers any better.
Vesaria slipped the sack beneath the loose floorboard and replaced it, her thoughts already turning toward the storeroom and the stables.
Tomorrow was her last day to prepare. After that, ready or not, she was leaving.