Chapter 13: A Mother in the Lane

Cassian put the bowl down on the step.

He stood up, and he walked into the middle of the lane, between the captain's horse and his mother.

"Lower the torch," he said.

The captain looked at him and did not lower it.

"My lord. The warrant is the Council's."

"The woman named in it is Lady Rooke."

Nobody moved.

"She was my mother. She was Unwritten twenty-two years ago and put out at the gate."

"The Elder told me she had died in her bed."

His voice carried to every doorway.

Nineteen people had come out of their houses in their nightclothes, and not one of them made a sound.

Behind me the old woman said, quite kindly, "Is he all right, dear? He looks poorly."

I took her hand again.

"He's all right," I said. "He's just very tired."

The captain's horse shifted.

"The Unwritten have no kin," he said. "That is the law. If you claim her, my lord, you have said aloud that you know a name the Court took from her."

"Yes."

"Then you have broken the Unwriting law."

That voice did not belong to the captain.

A carriage had rolled up behind the riders, black and silver, with the Crane crow on its door.

The Elder stepped down from it, and Odette stepped down after him.

She wore grey wool, with a silver cup hanging from her belt on a chain.

Her eyes were red.

"Cassian," she said, and her voice broke. "You've been unwell for days. Everyone has seen it."

"I've never been clearer," he said.

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