The priestess and her charge had already moved on, but it wasn’t at all hard to guess where they had gone—even Lordan could have figured it out. The troop had trampled down vegetation on both sides of that little path leading off the main road. Kero waited, watched and listened long enough for her nerves to start screaming. She crossed the road in a rush, like a startled deer, then went up the side of the hill, planning to follow their trail from above. Hellsbane followed, making no more noise than she did.
She found them at the end of the path, bivouacked in a little blind canyon, thick with trees. And by now the sun was setting somewhere beyond the trees; it was slowly growing darker. That was bad enough—it was going to be damned difficult to get him loose in a setup like that, and harder still to get him out—but worse was that there were more of them now than she’d seen in the original group. Where they came from, or whether they were already here when the priestess and her charge arrived, she had no idea.
It didn’t much matter. The odds had just jumped from five to one to about twenty to one.
Hellfires, she thought, watching some of the “new” ones tie their prisoner “securely.” The Karsite idea of “secure” was enough to make her joints ache in sympathy; ankles tied to wide-set stakes, arms bound behind his back over a thick tree limb, wrists secured to ankles so that his only possible posture was kneeling, and no position could be comfortable, even if he was as boneless as Tre.
That was no way to treat anyone you intended to keep for very long. Which argued that they didn’t intend to keep him for very long.
I can still walk away from this, she told herself, settling her chin on her hands, the smell of old leaves thick in her nostrils. I’m not involved yet. They haven’t seen me, and not even his horse knows I’m there—and he isn’t a woman, so Need won’t give me any trouble about leaving him....
But the more she saw, the less palatable the idea of leaving him in their hands became. Whatever else he was, this Herald was a fellow human being, and a pretty decent one if all the things Tarma and Kethry had said about his kind were true. From the look of things, the priestess was about to try a little interrogation, and Kero knew what that meant. She’d seen the results of one of those sessions, and was not minded to leave even a stranger to face it.
Besides, if these bastards were stopping this close to the Border to question him, there must be an urgent reason to do so. Which meant that the reward for his release would be a good one, and the information he held in his head must be valuable to someone. And if she could get him loose, he must know the quickest way out of Karse and across that Border into Valdemar, where she’d be safe, if not welcome.
And from there she could get home....
That clinched it, the thought of “home” set up a longing so strong it overwhelmed any other consideration.
There has to be a way, she thought darkly. There has to be. She watched through narrowed eyes as the woman rolled up the arms of her robes and picked up one of the irons she’d placed in the fire, examining it critically, then replacing it. Huh. So far, that priestess hasn’t even looked up once. So either she can’t sense me, or Need—or whichever of us these women are somehow detecting—or else she’s too busy. Either way, if I’m very careful, I might be able to do a little reading of their thoughts. Maybe I’ll overhear something that’ll help.
She unshielded carefully, a little bit at a time, and sent a delicate wisp of thought drifting down among them, the barest possible disturbance of the currents down there—
And suddenly her little finger of thought was seized and held in a desperate mental grip.
Blessed Agnira! Panic gave her strength she didn’t know she had. She snatched her mind away, and lay facedown in the leaves, heart pounding wildly with fear. Her first, panicked thought was that it was the priestess; her second, that it was some other mage down below there. But there was no sign of disturbance in the camp, and no one shouted a warning or pointed in the direction of her hiding place. She throttled down her panic, and extended her probe a second time, “looking” for the presence that had seized her.
It snatched for her again, a little less wildly, but no less desperate.
:Who are you?: she thought, forming her statement clearly, as Warrl had taught her.
:Eldan. Who are you? I thought I was the only one out here!:
:Kerowyn—:
:You have to help me get loose,: he demanded, interrupting her, his mental voice voice shaking, but firm beneath the fear. :I’ve got to get back to report!:
:Fine,: she told him. :What’s it worth to you? Or should I say, to Valdemar?:
That stopped him. :What?: He seemed baffled rather than shocked. He literally did not understand what she meant; that was crystal clear from his thoughts.
:What is it worth to you to be freed? How much,: she repeated patiently. :Money, my friend. What’s the reward for getting you loose? I’m not in this for my health. There’re easier ways of making a living :
:!—: he faltered, :I—I thought you were a Herald—:
Silence then, as he began to take in the fact that she plainly was something else.
:Obviously not, friend. To clarify things for you, I’m a professional soldier. A mercenary. Now do you want me to get you free, or not?: She couldn’t resist a little barb. :Those irons are going to be very hot in a moment.:
She waited for him to respond, and it didn’t take long. He named a figure. She blinked in surprise; it was more than she would have considered asking, and she would have expected to be bargained down. Either he’s more important than I thought, or he has an inflated opinion of his own worth. Either way, I’m holding him to it.
:Bond on it?: she asked.
He gave his bond, seeming a little miffed that she’d asked. :My Companion will help you on this, too,: he added.
Well, that only bore out everything Tarma had told her about the spirit-horses. :All right—: she said, and noted that he seemed a little surprised that she took that last so calmly. :Here’s what we’ll do....:
The Karsites had counted on the fact that they were in a blind canyon to protect them from attack on three of the four sides, and probably were assuming that since the canyon was thickly wooded, that would make fighting difficult for an opponent. But while the slope Kero was hidden on was indeed steep, it was not too steep for a Shin’a’in warsteed. And she had trained in the woods.
They charged “silently,” without a cry, Kero knowing that the Karsites would not recognize the crashing of her horse through the underbrush for an attack until it was too late. She had her bow out, and neither her aim nor her arrows had suffered from lack of practice. The enemy fighters silhouetted themselves most considerately against the fire; she picked off four of the Karsite guards, two of them with heart-shots and two through the throat, while still on the way in.
Already battle fever had her, and her world narrowed to target; response. There was no room for anything else.
Meanwhile, commotion at the mouth of the canyon signaled the Companion’s charge. Kero had felt a little guilty about putting the unarmed horse there, but the Companion was not going to be able to cut Eldan free, and she was.
Hellsbane skidded to a halt beside the kneeling Herald, and Kero swung her leg over the saddle-bow and vaulted off her back, letting off another arrow and getting a fifth score as she did so.
Weeks spent behind the Karsite lines had given her a rough command of their language; she heard the shouts, and realized that from the plurals being used that they had mistaken the gray warsteed for a white Companion, and herself for another Herald—it would have been funny, if she’d had any time to think about it.
She slashed at the Herald’s bonds, while the Companion charged down and trampled two more Karsites in his way, and Hellsbane reared on her haunches and bashed out the brains of a third. The ropes to his ankles and wrists were easy enough to handle, but just as she was getting ready to saw at the thongs binding Eldan’s arms to the log, two more of the Karsites
rushed her. She tossed a knife at the Herald’s feet while parrying the first Karsite’s rather clumsy attack. He was easily dispatched, but his friend arrived, and another with him—
Hellsbane got there first, half-reared and got the first from behind, and the Companion fought his way to the Herald’s side. Now at least she didn’t need to worry about having to guard him while he cut himself free.
She thought she’d been hit a couple of times, but the wounds didn’t hurt. Since they weren’t slowing her down, she ignored them as usual. The horses were doing the job of four or five fighters, charging and trampling every sign of organization and scattering people before them like frightened quail—and Kero began to think this was going to work-Then she wheeled to face an opponent she sensed coming up behind her—
And her sword froze her in mid-slash. The new opponent was the warrior-priestess. A woman. And Need would not permit her to carry out her attack.
LetmegoyoustupidBITCHofahunkoftin! she screamed mentally at the blade, seeing her death in the smiling eyes of the priestess, in the cruel quirk of her lips, in the slow, preparatory swing of the priestess’ mace—Then a tree limb swung down out of the gathering darkness, and with a resounding crack, broke in half over the woman’s head.
The priestess dropped the mace, and fell to the ground like a stone.
Need let Kero go, muttering into the back of her mind in sleepy confusion, then subsiding into silence. “Thanks,” she told the Herald, with all the sincerity she could manage.
“Anytime,” he replied, grinning.
But there were still far too many Karsites in this camp, and the stunned disbelief that took them when their leader went down wasn’t going to last much longer.
Kero made a running jump for Hellsbane’s saddle, vaulting spraddle-legged over the mare’s rump and landing squarely in place. The Herald followed her example a half breath behind.
And she couldn’t help it—she indulged in a bloodcurdling Shin’a’in war-cry as they thundered out the canyon mouth, running over two more Karsites who weren’t quick enough to get out of the way.
Let ’em figure that out.
“Have we gone far enough, do you think?” she asked Eldan wearily, about a candlemark before dawn.
“I certainly hope so,” he replied, his voice as dull and lifeless as hers. “And I doubt very much they’re going to follow our trail. Where in Havens did you learn all that? That trail-muddling stuff, I mean,”
“It’s my job,” she reminded him, and looked up at the sky, critically. There were still stars in the west, but the east was noticeably lighter above the thick pines. It was time to find somewhere to hide for a while.
“We need a cave, or a ledge overhanging some bushes, or something,” she continued. “We’re going to need to hide for at least two days, maybe three, maybe more, so it’s going to have to stand up to some scrutiny. I want a cave, I really do.”
He looked bewildered, and not particularly happy. “Two days? Three? But—”
She cut him short. “I know what you’re thinking. Trust me on this one. I’m hurt, you’re hurt, and the Karsites are going to expect us to make straight for the Border. We need time to recover, and we need time for our trail to age. If we hole up back here, and stay here, we’ll get in behind them. They won’t look for us to come from that direction.”
Herald Eldan was hardly more than a dark shape against the lighter sky, and she realized that she really didn’t know what he looked like. He shook his head dubiously, then shrugged. “All right, you obviously know what you’re doing. You did get me out of there.” He gestured grandly. “Lead on, my lady.”
Ordinarily, that would have caused her to snap I’m nobody’s lady, much less yours, but something about Eldan—an unconscious graciousness, a feeling that he’d treat a scullery maid and a princess with the same courtesy, made her smile and take the lead, afoot, with Hellsbane trailing obediently behind like an enormous dog.
She knew what she was looking for, when she’d started searching here among the cliffs off the road, following the barest of game trails, and she had the feeling she’d find it in these uneven limestone slopes. A cave. Somewhere they could could hide and rest and not have to worry about searchers. Above all, though, their hiding place had to be big enough for the horses, too—maybe Eldan’s Companion could make himself into a drift of fog and escape notice, but Hellsbane was all too solid.
She tried several places that looked promising, but none of them were near big enough. She began watching the sky with one anxious eye; the rising sun had begun to dye the eastern horizon a delicate pink, and once the Karsites had completed their morning devotions, the hunt would be well and truly up. There was one advantage; a small one. Bats would be returning to their lairs for the day, and bats meant caves.
There was a ledge—and she thought she saw a dark form flit under it.
She fumbled her way up to it, tired limbs no longer responding, reactions gone all to hell. Predictably, she tripped, completely lost her balance and grabbed for a bush.
She missed it entirely. She fell down the slope with a strangled cry, rolling over and over, landing in a tangle of bushes—
And falling through the clutching, spiky branches, into blackness with a not-so-strangled shriek. She got a face full of gravel, and rolled farther, finally hitting her head, and seeing stars for a moment.
She lay on her back in the darkness, her ears ringing, wondering what she was doing there.
“Kerowyn?”
She blinked, trying to remember where she was, and who that voice could belong to.
“Kerowyn?” The voice certainly sounded familiar.
She sat up., and her head screamed a protest—but it all came back. Eldan, the rescue—Right.
“I’m in here!” she cried, hearing her voice echo back at her from deeper in the darkness with an elation not even her aching head could spoil.
“Are you all right?” She looked in the direction of the voice, and saw a lighter patch in the dark. That must be the entrance, screened off by bushes so thick she hadn’t even guessed it was there.
“Pretty much,” she replied, getting carefully to her feet, and sitting right back down again, prudently, when her head began to spin. “Can you bring the horses in here? Right now my knees are a little shaky.”
“I think so.” There were sounds of someone thrashing his way through bushes, leaving, then returning. “It looks big enough. Hang on, I’m going to make a light.” She winced at the sudden flare of light, and looked away, toward the rear of the cave. Interestingly, she couldn’t see an end to the darkness. When she looked back again, Eldan had a candle in one hand, and was leading Hellsbane in, the horse whickering her protest at being taken through scratchy bushes, but obeying him readily enough. Which was a miracle.
“She should be breaking your arm, you know,” she said conversationally, as Eldan coaxed the mare down the slippery gravel slope to the bottom of the cave. “She’s trained not to obey anyone but me, or someone I’ve designated that she’s worked with in my presence. She should be trying to kill you, or at least hurt you.”
“One of my Gifts is animal Mindspeech,” he said, just as casually. Then he dropped the reins, grinned at her thunderstruck expression, and scrambled back up the slope, leaving the candle stuck onto a rock.
“Oh,” she said weakly to the mare. “Animal Mindspeech. Of course. I should have known....”
“Doesn’t this hurt?” Eldan asked, peeling blood-soaked and dried cloth away from a slash on her leg. The wound wasn’t deep, but it was very messy; she was bleeding like the proverbial butchered pig.
And now that they were safe, it definitely did hurt. Quite a bit, as a matter of fact.
“Yes,” she replied, from behind gritted teeth. “It hurts.”
“Then why don’t you yell a little—it might do you some good.”
“It isn’t going to do any good to howl, much as I’d like to,” she pointed out. “And there might be someone out there
to hear me.”
He sighed, and repeated what he’d just told her earlier. “One of my Gifts is animal Mindspeech, my lady. If there was anyone out there, the wild things would know it, and I’d know it. The only creatures that are going to hear you are some deer and a couple of squirrels.”
“Call it force of habit, then,” she replied, clenching her fists while he continued to clean the wound as he talked.
She’d already done the same service for him, finding mostly bruises, and a couple of nasty-looking cuts and burns where the priestess had tried a little preliminary “work” on him. He proved to be quite a handsome fellow; lean and muscular, a little taller than she was, with warm brown eyes and hair of sable-brown, but with two surprising white streaks in it, one at each temple. He had high cheekbones, a stubborn chin, and a generous mouth that looked as if he smiled a great deal.
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