Free Deep Water by Pamela Freeman Page A

center of a domed room. Moss and young grass covered the ground and Bramble could hear the
     trickle of a stream which the gods always liked to have nearby. Although they were close to the town, she felt as though she
     were deep in a forest, perhaps even the Great Forest that she had dreamed about so often. The hairs on the back of her neck
     raised, and she knew that the gods had turned their attention to all of their followers, not just her.
    They came to the altar in the silver light just before dawn, and knelt together, in silence, as the winds of dawn began to
     blow. Safred bowed her head; Martine and Ash looked down at their hands, which was not quite the same thing. Zel was praying,
     her mouth moving silently, her hand clasping Flax’s. His face was blank. Surprisingly, Cael was also praying fervently, hands
     clenched against his chest.
    Bramble’s mind was empty of prayers. All she could do was feel: grief for Maryrose and a dark scouring of blame and anger
     for the gods, because they hadn’t protected her sister. They gave her no reply in words, but she had a strong sense of their
     regret. It wasn’t enough to ease her grief, but her anger cooled a little, and turned toward Saker. I will kill him, she thought.
     The pressure on her mind increased with the thought, but for the first time ever, she had the sense that the gods were undecided.
Should I kill him?
she asked them, but she heard no answer except,
Not yet.
    As the first light touched the tops of the trees, throwing shadows down onto the altar, the other townsfolk stirred and got
     up, backing away respectfully until they were beyond the circle of trees. But Safred motioned to their group to come closer.
     She laid a hand on the altar.
    “Today we part. But we’ll meet again, to bring the parts of the answer together.”
    “Aye,” Cael said. “But where, and when?”
    They looked at Safred, who hesitated. Bramble could tell there was no answer from the gods.
    It was Martine who answered. “Turvite,” she said.
    “The stones?” Safred asked. “The stones say so?”
    “Common sense says so, which is worth more,” Martine replied briskly. “It was Acton’s last big battle. It’s the biggest city
     in the Domains. Sooner or later this Saker will go there, and he will bring his army.”
    “Oh, yes,” Bramble said, feeling Martine’s words ring true. “He’ll want Turvite. He’ll want to succeed where the old enchanter
     failed.”
    “Yes. He will want to surpass her,” Safred said slowly.
    “So,” Cael said. “Turvite.”
    Ash flinched, just a little, as though Cael’s voice had been a prod to his memory. “Um… Turvite might not be so healthy
     a place for Martine and me,” he said.
    Martine laughed. “True,” she said. “Perhaps we should meet just
outside
Turvite. There’s a village a few miles up the river, called Sanctuary. We could meet there.”
    “As soon as we can,” Safred said reluctantly, and it was an irritant to her, they could all see, that she did not know the
     time and date.
    “Where will you go to find the songs?” she asked Ash.
    His face closed down. “South,” he said.
    “But I need to know —” Safred began, and at the same moment the gods roared into Bramble’s head, forbiddingly.
No!
they ordered. Safred jerked as the command hit her. Ash shook a little, as though he had heard them too, but his face stayed
     stony.
    “No,” he echoed the gods.
    Safred stared at him, her eyes burning and her face pale, but at last she nodded and the pressure in Bramble’s mind eased
     off. Bramble could see the effort it took her not to ask more. She waited for Safred to say some final exhortation or blessing,
     but she just stepped back from the altar and walked away, her back to the altar. That unsettled Bramble, who always backed
     away, out of a mix of respect and caution. It seemed to her that Safred took the gods for granted, and that was not quite
     safe. She shrugged. None of her business. She