The Woven Crown (Completed)

Chapter 28

When they woke, the woman pulled out a heel from a loaf of bread. She tore it into four pieces, brushing off the worst of the mold. Before they could bring up their offer of company, the woman spoke up. "I'm thinking I ought to head for town today as well." She looked around the sparse room. "There's nothing left for me here."

"We were actually thinking," said Killian, "that we could travel with you if you'd have us. We were already headed that direction, and there's strength in numbers."

"Bless you! That would certainly help."

"It's the least we can do for letting us shelter here for the night," said Ryla.

They readied their packs as the woman gathered all she cared to take with her. "Nothing much here but rusty 'ol farming tools anyway," she said as she surveyed the house. Ryla and Killian helped her lighten her load by taking an extra bag each.

They were ready to leave when the woman took a picture frame from the mantle that held a likeness of an older man. When she did, a small scrap of green fabric came with it and fell to the floor. There was some embroidery done on one side that Ryla glimpsed as it dropped.

She sucked in her breath.

The woman snatched it up off the floor, but the damage had been done. Sewn into the fabric was the symbol of the Woven, the same one that lay hidden beneath the skin of Ryla's palm. Killian had seen it too.

Silence fell like a cloak over everything. The woman stared at them and then took a few steps back.

"Now I don't want any trouble," she said. Ryla noticed her hand go towards the ax she had at her belt. "Why don't we just part ways here and we won't say anymore about it." Her voice trembled.

Ryla looked at Killian who had frozen in place. He gave her the smallest of nods.

"It's ok," said Ryla. "We aren't going to tell anyone."

The woman didn't move. She clutched the scrap of fabric in one white-knuckled fist.

"How? How can I trust you?" she whispered.

Ryla couldn't stand to see this woman standing there in fear of them. If she had risked the danger of keeping something with that symbol on it, she must be a Woven herself or dearly loved someone who was. They needed any allies they could get.

With that thought, Ryla closed her eyes and concentrated on her hair. She unraveled the work on each strand until a curtain of coppery red hair fell around her shoulders.

The woman gasped. "You're one of them?" she whispered. So, not a Woven herself, thought Ryla.

"Yes, the both of us." Ryla gestured towards Killian. "May I see it?" she asked.

The woman looked down at the scrap of fabric she still clutched and slowly opened her hand. Her knees visibly shook when she took a step to hand it to Ryla. The fabric was tattered and faded, the gold threads loose in some places, like it had been often handled, but there was no hiding the fact that it was the Woven symbol.

"May I ask who this belonged to?" asked Ryla.

"It was my father's," she answered, hesitating only a little. "He was a Mender... before. This was part of his uniform. He used to be a part of the Mender division that patrolled the Tapestry. He was killed in the rebellion the day he was supposed to retire."

Ryla handed the insignia back to the woman. "We're sorry we could not tell you about who we are earlier."

Killian said, "We are from a refuge of Woven."

"There are more of you?" she asked.

"Yes, quite a few more. The refuge offer protection and shelter from the Prestige for those who are Woven or have Woven family, like yourself. You would be welcomed there," said Killian.

"What are you two doing here then? You'll get yourselves killed!"

"We're looking for any Woven still left in hiding. And trying to figure out a way to stop the Prestige from destroying Religo. You've seen what's happening at the Tapestry. If we don't find a way to fix it soon, the Prestige will be the least of our worries," said Killian.

The woman's face had turned stony at the mention of the Prestige. "That lout doesn't know a thing about running a kingdom. And he's bringing us all down with him. If you two are able to do something about that, I will give you all the help I can."

Ryla was surprised to hear someone outside of the refuge speak so openly about their hate of the Prestige. She reminded herself that she had grown up on an estate owned by nobles. The nobles were known favorites of the Prestige, people his father had placed into powerful positions once the rebellion was over. She hadn't counted on all the unrest that was surely growing in the hearts of the common-born affected by the Anguish.

"The first thing we could use are some provisions, but those have been much harder to come by. We were hoping to find some in town," said Ryla.

"I can help with that," said the woman. "And... there's someone else I would like you to meet."

"That would be welcomed," said Killian. "But—"

"They won't know who you are," she said. "The less people who know about you, the better, I understand. I'm an old hand at keeping secrets." She waved the scrap of fabric before tucking it into her tunic.