Chapter 14: The Water

Rosalind called the whole pack to the Gathering Hall that evening, and three hundred wolves came.

They filled the benches and the aisles, and the children sat on the cold stone floor along the walls.

She stood at the head of the long table beside her own chair, the one with the high back and the candle.

Perrin stood on her left, and the old healer sat on her right with a black bag on her knee.

Dorian stood at the back by the doors with his hands empty, where she had told him to stand.

Pippa came in last, and everyone turned to look at her.

She wore her cream knitwear and carried a big stoneware jug in both arms.

"Forgive me," she said, with a shy smile. "I heard there'd be a long night. I made tea for everyone."

Nobody spoke.

"It's only water from the hall cistern and a few herbs," Pippa said. "I filled it myself. Shall I pour?"

"Please," said Rosalind.

Pippa blinked.

She had expected an argument, and she was too smart to show it.

She set the jug on the table and picked up a clay cup.

"Not for them," Rosalind said. "For you."

"I'm sorry?"

"Pour a cup and drink it. Here, in front of all of us."

A murmur ran down the benches.

"Rosalind, I'm not thirsty," Pippa said.

"You made it for three hundred people."

"Yes, but..."

"Then you can spare a cup."

Pippa filled the cup.

Her hand was steady, and her smile was a little fixed.

She lifted it toward her lips, and the whole hall watched.

She lowered it again.

"I really don't care for mint," she said.

"It isn't mint."

Rosalind kept her voice level.

"I've been breathing that smell for five months, Pippa. It's under the herbs."

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