Saffron

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SAFFRON

Thad and Hu drug the corpse away; Saffron didn’t seem to even notice.


Whatever her thoughts were, they spared no time to lament the dearly departed.

Greggor chased Saffron’s little band of rebels for over 300 miles, never slowing down, never giving up. Why Greggor wanted one House Guard so badly Saffron never spoke of, but she was smart enough to run, and if she seemed as serene as she normally did, those closest too her recognized a tightening of the eyes, just a tremor in her voice when his name came up.

The rumor—spake low around the campfire, after Saffron and her handmaiden Carinn retired for the evening—was that Greggor had taken a fancy to Saffron, as all knew the Kingpriest was wont to do.

Whether Saffron rebuffed his advances—Greggor’s rages were legendary—or his Ladywife Mirella got wind of it—either would be enough to make a sane woman run.

And run she had.

With her loyal retainers Saffron stole out of the Parcathian Castle like a thief in the night. Saffron set a demanding pace, but none questioned it. They all knew what Greggor was capable of, and anyone too stupid to fear him had only to think of the Lady Mirella to set his pace with renewed vigor.

Eventually they bogged down in the Reed Marshes; travel hampered by the heavy snows and an inability to cut across fields that would provide a shorter route, but point their direction like a lodestone.

Finally, just south of where Greggor’s grandfather Harral once won a famous battle, Saffron called a halt to the flight. There was no escaping Greggor, and the running must end.

Under striped flag Saffron sent Carinn alone to give a message to Greggor. It was a risk: the man was not known for any gentlemanly conduct, but Saffron was hoping even Greggor would blanche at killing an unarmed woman; at least in front of his men.

The message was simple: if Greggor would come alone, he and Saffron would talk of their recent troubles. The place was isolated, but Saffron was counting on Greggor’s massive ego. After all: what could four women and two boys barely old enough to shave do against the almighty Greggor, Son of Cor, Son of Harral?

****

Carinn smiled at Greggor’s body, drug unceremoniously in the snow, and wondered what answer the Kingpriest might give now? Too bad she’d never find out. Carinn put the rubbish out of her mind and went to her mistress.

“What now, Lady?”

Saffron stared off into nothing for a moment more, and then looked up and smiled at her oldest and dearest friend. It was a warm smile, but with teeth, and more than a little feral.

Oh, this wasn’t over. This wasn’t over at all.