Catrin despaired and wondered why they would leave their lives behind to seek out an idol. Even if the archmaster had mandated their presence, he was certainly in no position to enforce his edict, but they seemed not to care. From what Catrin sensed, most simply wished the misery to end.
The roads were churned to mud, at least until the snows came; then they froze, their texture sealed by frost. Ruts and frozen footprints threatened to turn their ankles, and illness began to spread. Catrin could not breathe through her nose, and a cough rattled in her chest. Benjin did what he could to secure dry places to camp and wood for fires, but the landscape was usually picked clean long before they arrived.
Large groups huddled together at night for the protection in their numbers, but Catrin and Benjin kept to themselves. They had no desire for the company, and those around them seemed to have no desire for the fellowship of strangers.
Occasionally they passed an inn, and the rosy glow that came from within beckoned to them, but Benjin insisted they save their coin for food, which was becoming increasingly expensive. Vendors took advantage of the massive migration and inflated their prices. Perhaps the shortage of food could explain away the cost increase, but Catrin resented it. She felt as if they preyed on the poor and hungry, and she detested them for it. Anger and spite were all that kept her going at times, and she used her fury to stay warm.
"You've not lost hope, have you?" Benjin asked at the end of another silent day.
Catrin remained mute for some time before answering. "Hope," she said. "Hope for what? A quick death? An end to the misery? I've no idea what to hope for. I cannot hope to save these people, and they cannot save themselves."
"Such thoughts will get you nowhere. There's always a chance that things will work out, and you're not the only one attempting to stop this madness. Others labor toward the same end, and we can only pray they've not given up," he said, but she continued to spiral into her own personal nightmare.
"Even if the statue is destroyed, what then? There are no crops in the fields. The food supply is already growing scarce, and disease is sure to follow. I begin to wonder if saving these poor wretches from a quick death is the right thing to do. If they'll only suffer slow deaths, then what good will I have done?"
"You act as if all is already lost, but the sun still shines and we still live and breathe. I, for one, plan to do whatever I can. I'll not give up until my last breath leaves my lips."
"Good luck to you, then," she said. "I'm tempted to simply lay down and die. I've no more to give, and this dreadful march will never end."
Benjin stopped and yanked her aside by her arm. His face was crimson, and she had never seen him so angry; he frightened her, and his grip was painful. "How dare you give up! Did your father teach you nothing? Anything worth doing is difficult, and this could not be more worthwhile. How could you expect it to be easy? You shame me." At one time, those words would have stung, but she simply shrugged.
"Who knows if my father is even alive? I doubt it. I'll never see him again, and if he wants to be disappointed, then let him. And that goes for you as well. Perhaps you would rather walk alone."
"It's tempting, but I'll not allow you to give up so easily. If I have to drag you by your ears, you'll fight, and you'll win, if only to spite me," he said, and a crooked smile actually tried to form on his lips.
Catrin couldn't fight him; he was right, and she knew it. That didn't make it any easier, but it did keep her moving. "You're right. I know, but I'm tired. So very tired."
"I know, li'l miss, but I'm here to help you. I'll always be right by your side. You can count on that," he said.
She leaned against him for support. "You amaze me. How can you stay positive amidst this horror?"
"It's not easy, and I'm not saying it is, but it's all in how you look at it. We could've been hung, or drowned, or burned a dozen times now. How did we survive those things? How are we still here to try? Hope, determination, and in some cases, sheer stubbornness."
"Well, that's one thing we have in abundance. If only we could eat it," she said and actually chuckled.
"There, you see? I told you we could do it. Laughter keeps the world alive, you know." And with that, they stepped a little lighter, marched a little faster, and the pain seemed to ease in Catrin's feet, as if it had been imposed by her despair rather than the endless footsteps. When an inn appeared on the horizon, Benjin led her toward it.
"But we should save our coin," she protested.
"One night's lodging won't break us, and I think we've earned a bit of respite. I'd also like to look for signs of the Vestrana." Their hopes were dashed when they arrived, though.
"Full up," the innkeeper said when they inquired about rooms, and the sheer number of folks jammed into the common room gave her statement credence. The rotund woman turned to tend other customers.
"Please miss. A stall in the stables, a bit of floor in the kitchens, we'll take whatever you can offer." The woman looked disgusted, but Benjin pleaded with his eyes.
"Two coppers and you can sleep in the loft with the rest of the fools," she said, and Benjin quickly pulled four coppers from his pouch.
"Might we get a bit of food to go with our lodging?"
"You're a pushy one," she said, but she accepted the coin. "Potato broth is all we have left, but this'll get you two bowls."
A thick layer of grease was congealed on top of the broth, and it tasted little better than laundry water, but it was warm and it felt good in Catrin's belly. They drained their bowls in short order, and the innkeeper had the stable boy show them to the loft. At the top of the ladder, they found mounds of flea-ridden straw, and there was barely a spot to be found that did not harbor a sleeping body. People cursed them as they wandered through the disorganized mass of humanity, but they eventually found a corner in which to lie down. Catrin pulled the blankets from her pack and prepared the best bed she could for them, and they laid themselves down to rest.
"You get some sleep," Benjin said. "I don't trust these folk not to rob us. I'll keep watch for now. I'll wake you later."
She would have argued, but his words were muffled by her wide yawn, and she let sleep claim her. When she woke, sunlight streamed through the cracks in the walls, and Benjin slept beside her, his belt knife still in his hand. When he woke, she saw that his purse and other valuables were beneath him. He was an intimidating figure, knife in hand, and she supposed that had been enough to keep any would-be thieves at bay.
The sun already high in the sky, they left the inn long after most of the others who had shared the loft with them. A small town lay ahead, and in many ways, it looked the same as every other town they had already passed. It made Catrin feel as if they had been walking in circles.
"We're nearing the western border of Astor," Benjin said as they entered the dirty little hamlet. "Soon we'll be in Mundleboro, the lands ruled by your mother's family. We'll have to be extra careful when we get there. Keep your hood up at all times. I've been searching for signs of the Vestrana, but the signals I've seen are conflicting. They are close to correct but include subtle warnings. I'm afraid to seek their aid since it seems they fear they've been infiltrated."
Walking past the smithy and shops, Benjin stopped at a storefront that displayed cured meats. Salted hams, smoked fish, and several strange reddish sausages hung under the watchful eye of the storekeeper.
"What'll you be needing?" the beady-eyed man asked, and it was clear he did not trust them. His look urged them to buy something or move on.
"How much for the pepper sausage?" Benjin asked.