She rose, stretched, got her bearings, and began cautiously back toward the outside. Her stomach rumbled; all of the food that had been sent down with her was back in the fane of Mefitis, and Anne didn’t want to go back there until she had to. She’d considered going all the way back there to sleep, on the off chance that the sisters might check on her, but if they hadn’t in the six days that had already passed, she couldn’t imagine they would today.
Still, she would have to do something about her hunger soon. Perhaps she could find apples or pomegranates.
She waited at the cave entrance for a while, watching and listening, then began climbing back down. She found the pool again, circled it several times, and found no one there. Then she went to look for food.
Around noon she was ready to give up and go back to the fane. She’d found some fruits, but either didn’t know what they were or didn’t find them ripe. She’d seen a rabbit and many squirrels, but knew nothing of hunting or how to build a fire if she did manage to get one. Austra had been right, of course; her fantasy of living free and off the land was just that, a fantasy. It was a good thing she hadn’t managed to run away.
Disconsolate, she started back toward the cave.
Passing by the pool again, she caught a motion from the corner of her eye and ducked behind a bush. She winced at the stir of noises she made, then cautiously peered around the leaves.
Cazio was back. Today he wore a white shirt and dark red breeches. His sword was propped against a nearby olive tree and he sat on a blanket. He was busy removing items from a basket—pears, cheese, bread, a bottle of wine.
“I’ve brought food this time,” he said, without turning.
Anne hesitated. He was far enough away that if she ran, he probably couldn’t catch her. Still, what did she know of this fellow other than he was an arrogant ass?
That he’d kept his back turned when she was naked, as she’d asked him. After a moment’s consideration, she emerged and walked toward him.
“You’re persistent,” she noticed.
“And you’re hungry,” the fellow replied. He stood and bowed. “There were no proper introductions, yesterday. I am Cazio Pachiomadio da Chiovattio. I will be in your debt if you will join me for a time.”
Anne quirked her mouth. “As you say, I am hungry.”
“Then, if you please, casnara Fiene, sit with me.”
“And you’ll be a gentleman?”
“In every way.”
She settled warily on the other side of the blanket, with the food between them. She eyed the victuals hungrily.
“Please, eat,” Cazio said.
She reached for a pear and bit into it. It was sweet and ripe, and the juice drizzled down her chin.
“Try the cheese with it,” Cazio suggested, pouring her a goblet of red wine. “It’s caso dac’uva, one of the best in the region.”
Anne took a wedge of the cheese. It was sharp, hard, and piquant, and went very well with the pear. She washed it all down with the wine. Cazio began eating, too, at a much more leisurely pace.
“Thank you,” Anne said, when she had eaten some of the bread and had a little more wine, which was already warming her thoughts.
“Seeing you is thanks enough,” Cazio replied.
“You aren’t a rogue at all,” Anne accused.
Cazio shrugged. “Some would argue with that, but I’ve never made the claim, only the offer.”
“What are you, then? Not a shepherd, with that sword. A wanderer?”
“Of sorts,” Cazio replied.
“So you aren’t from these parts?”
“I’m from Avella.”
Anne let that pass. She didn’t know where Avella was, and didn’t care. “You’ve taken a holiday?” she asked.
Cazio grinned. “Of sorts,” he repeated. “Though it was never festive until now.”
“I’m still betrothed, you know,” Anne reminded him.
“Yes, so I’ve been told. A temporary situation, for once you’ve gotten to know me—”
“I will undoubtedly still think you an ass, if you keep talking that way,” Anne replied.
Cazio clutched at his chest. “Now that was an arrow,” he said, “striking right to my heart.”
Anne laughed. “You have no heart, Cazio, or at least not a loud one. I think other parts of you are more outspoken.”
“You think you know me well, so soon?” Cazio said. “This fiancé of yours—he is better spoken?”
“Infinitely so. He writes wonderful letters, he speaks poetry.” She paused. “Or he did when he could still speak to me and write to me.”
“Does he tell you how your hair is like the rarest red saffron of Shaum? Does he reflect on the myriad colors of your eyes? Does he know your breath as well as he knows his own?” Cazio’s eyes were suddenly, uncomfortably focused on hers.
“You shouldn’t say things like that,” Anne mumbled, feeling a sudden empty pain. I can’t even remember his face. Nonetheless she loved Roderick. She knew that.
“How long since you’ve seen him?” Cazio asked.
“Almost two months.”
“Are you sure you’re still betrothed?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean a man who would let his love be carried off to a coven a thousand leagues away might be less sturdy in his affections than some.”
“That … You take that back!” Anne rose to her feet in fury, almost forgetting that her “betrothal” was a lie. Roderick had mentioned nothing of marriage. She’d brought that up only to deflect Cazio’s attentions.
“I did not mean to offend,” Cazio said quickly. “If I’ve gone too far, I apologize. As you say, I can be an ass. Please, have some more wine.”
The wine was already having considerable effect on Anne, but she nevertheless knelt back down and accepted the newly filled glass. Still, she regarded him with something resembling a cold stare.
“I have an idea,” Cazio said, after a moment.
“What a lonely creature it must be.”
“I have apologized,” he reminded her.
“Very well. What is your idea?”
“I presume your lover has not written you because you are not allowed correspondence in the coven?”
“He doesn’t know where I am. But even if he did, a letter of mine would never reach him, I fear.”
“You know his hand?”
“Like my own.”
“Very well,” Cazio said, leaning back on one elbow and holding his wineglass up. “You write and seal a letter, and I shall see it delivered to this Roderick person. I shall receive any reply and bring it to you, at a place of your liking.”
“You would do that? Why?”
“If he is, as you say, fond of you, he will write you back. If he is in love with you, he will ride here to see you. If he has forgotten you, he will do neither. In that case, I hope to gain.”
Anne paused, stunned at the offer, though she quickly saw the flaw in it. “But if I trust you with his correspondence,” she pointed out, “you might easily libel him as faithless by never sending the letter.”
“And I give you my word I will deliver any letter he sends to you. I swear it on my father’s name and on the blade of my good sword, Caspator.”
“I could still never accept the absence of correspondence as proof.”
“Nonetheless, my offer still stands,” Cazio replied easily.
“Again, why?”
“If nothing more is to exist between us,” Cazio said, “I want you to at least know I’m honest. Besides, it costs me little to do this. A trip to a nearby village, a handful of coins to a cuveitur. I need only know where your Roderick might be found.”
“It might be difficult for us to meet after today,” Anne said. “And I have nothing to write with.”
“Surely we can think of something.”
Anne considered that for a moment, and it struck her that she could send not only Roderick a message, but also one to her father, warning him of her visions and the threat they foretold to Crotheny. “You have seen the coven?” she asked.