Neal looked at her soberly. “Aren’t you begging the question?”
Kel blinked at him. “Can’t you ever ask something right out, instead of walking all around it?”
“Begging the question means you state or assume something that hasn’t been proved. In this case, you’re assuming the Stump can actually think.”
“That’s not very useful, Neal,” Kel said impatiently.
“If I were useful, you wouldn’t know it was me,” he replied loftily. In a quieter tone he said, “Anyway, now you know why you haven’t seen the Lioness.” He patted her shoulder awkwardly and wandered off. Kel found a rock and sat, resting her chin on her knees. She had a great deal to think about.
Early one morning at the end of June, Eda Bell roused Kel from a sound sleep. “What time is it?” the girl mumbled, grabbing her breeches and struggling into them.
“Not quite dawn.” The Wildcat rolled up her hammock with the quickness of long practice. “Lord Raoul and thirty of the King’s Own rode in not too long ago. Some village has a very bad spidren problem. We’re all going to hunt them down.” She passed Kel a small cup of green tea.
“What’s ’very bad’?” Kel asked between sips. Her head was clearing.
“The villagers report five, maybe ten of the things. Maybe more. They took a woman and some livestock.”
Kel got to her knees, and folded her bedroll as quickly as her fingers could work.
eleven
SPIDREN HUNT
After a hard morning’s ride, they were given shelter from the light rain in the forest village’s largest barn. Once the horses were tended, everyone gathered around the Knight Commander to eat. At first there was no sound but chewing, they were so hungry that even oatcakes, dried fruit, and water tasted good.
Finally Lord Raoul cleared his throat. “You young fellows may not know, but rain is good for this kind of work. We can track better in the mud—and with spidrens, we need all the help we can get. We can’t use dogs this time. Unless they’re trained for it, dogs won’t hunt ’em—they just turn tail and run. Maybe they’re smarter than we are.”
There was a quiet chuckle from his listeners.
“We have talismans to warn us of their presence, but the spidrens have spells to shield themselves. They’re absolutely fearless, too. You first- and second-year pages, you’ll carry staffs. If you’re attacked, use the staff to hold the beast off and yell like mad. I mean it. No heroics.”
“Not against spidrens,” commented a blunt-nosed Bazhir. “They’ll gag you in web and hack your arms off before you know your sword is gone.”
“Spidrens will stick to the trees if they’re thick, as they are hereabouts,” continued the Knight Commander. “That’s what they prefer. They also go for bare rock. That’s why they’re hard to track. Now, will one of you local fellows give us a map?”
A young man in a hunter’s greens and browns came forward. He used a stick to draw in the beaten earth of the floor, marking out streams, hills, and gorges. Everyone paid close attention.
At last Lord Raoul got to his feet. There was a lot of him to straighten from a crouch. Seen from close by, his shoulders and chest were as broad as the palace wall. “We hunt spidrens together,” he said. “No going off alone because you think you see something. Each of you pairs with one of my men. Tell him if you see anything of interest. Now, arm up.”
“Horses?” asked one of the third-year pages.
“You heard our guide. A lot of what’s around is boggy. You don’t want spidrens above you when your mount is wallowing. The horses stay here,” replied Lord Raoul.
“I’m just as glad,” Kel told Peachblossom, slipping him an apple. “I’d hate to risk you on something when I don’t know what I’m about.” Peachblossom slobbered on her tunic, as if he bestowed a horse’s blessing.
Lord Raoul’s second in command, Captain Flyndan, paired up men and pages briskly. Kel was placed in the charge of the older Bazhir soldier, the one who had mentioned arms getting hacked off. He nodded to her. “I am Qasim,” he said, and pointed to her shoulders. “You have a feather rash.”
She blinked, confused, then realized what he was talking about. The sparrows were so light she forgot they perched on her. “Sorry, sir,” she said meekly. “I don’t have much control over them. Once we’re moving, they’ll go into the trees.”
To her surprise the hard-faced man offered an open hand to her friends. He had grain in his palm. The grin on his face as the small birds lit on his palm and helped themselves made Kel smile in reply. When the grain was eaten and the sparrows returned to Kel, he was all business again. “Get your staff—what’s your name?” The second in command had made his pairings by pointing to page, then soldier.
“Kel, sir.”
“I am only Qasim, not’sir.’Get your staff.”
Kel obeyed. As she did, she noticed that the third- and fourth-year pages were armed with long spears, as were half of the men of the Own. The remaining men bore crossbows. All of the soldiers and the third- and fourth-year boys carried swords as well.
I wish I had a glaive, Kel thought passionately. She was scared. If only Lord Wyldon weren’t so fixed in his ways!
Once they were armed, Lord Raoul broke them into three groups, ten soldiers in each. He led one group. Captain Flyndan had the group including Kel and Qasim, while Lord Wyldon took the third. One of the village men was placed with each group as a guide. Neal was in Lord Raoul’s group. Kel was a little jealous; she would have liked to watch the famed knight’s work at close range.
They communicated by means of spelled pendants worn by each group leader. Qasim explained the advantage of the pendants: the spidrens wouldn’t realize they had been seen, since they wouldn’t hear a horn call. They would have less chance to summon help. The men of the King’s Own also used a secret language of hand signals while they were in sight of one another.
As their company moved into the surrounding forest, the rain continued to fall. It deadened the sounds of their passage. That quiet was comforting to Kel. There was a difference between coming up behind grazing deer and approaching a prey that was clever, vicious, large, and fast. The thought of being stone was not helpful just then. She remembered her mother, facing the Scanran raiders. Had the Lioness, in battle against giants, felt as if she wanted to crawl away to someplace safe? Of course not—and neither would Kel. She would be steadfast, like her mother. Like Alanna the Lioness.
The hunters followed the signs left when the spidrens had taken a cow, which was too big to be carried through the trees. When that trail ended at a stream, the three companies split up. Halts were called as each group found something that might lead them to their foes. All those clues to the spidrens’ whereabouts failed. The creatures knew they would be hunted. They were careful to hide their tracks.
Now and then someone would find abandoned webs. The men of the King’s Own could judge from experience just how old the things were and how long it had been since spidrens had used them.
It was nervous work. All of them, even the veteran men, kept one eye on the trees. This part of the forest was old and untouched by humans; some trees rose over one hundred and thirty feet into the air. Kel saw how they would make a road for creatures that could swing across gaps on web ropes. On the forest floor the light was gray, weaving through the foliage to brush carpets of rotting brown leaves. While the tree cover held the worst of the rain off the hunters, it dripped dully, adding to the gloomy feel of the air. They heard no animals except Kel’s sparrows, who chattered and talked among themselves.
After yet another halt as they waited to see if someone else had found anything useful, Qasim sat on a log and nodded for Kel to do the same. Half of the sparrows climbed on the man to see if he’d hidden more seed from them. The rest sat on or beside Kel, fluffing wet feathers and shaking themselves out. Crown hopped onto Kel’s knee and eyed her, head tilted first to one side.
Kel offered a finger. When Crown hopped on, she raised the bird
before her face. “I wish I were Daine,” she said very quietly. “I’d ask if you could flit about and find these spidrens. You’d be wonderful spies.”
“We shall find them. We must,” Qasim assured her. When Kel raised her eyebrows in question, he explained, “Often they bite off a victim’s limb, then slap web on it, to keep them from dying of blood loss. The woman they took may yet live.”
Kel felt her stomach roll. “I really wish we could find them, then,” she said hotly. “And sooner rather than later. They are monsters.”
Captain Flyndan waved them to their feet. Word had come through: another dead end. As Kel stood, Crown hopped to the log and began to chatter. When she stopped, the entire flock sped off. Kel shrugged and resettled her grip on her staff.
They searched through boggy ground that threatened to yank their boots from their feet, then uphill until they rejoined Lord Raoul’s and Lord Wyldon’s groups. As the men and pages relaxed, the officers went apart to confer. Kel was having a drink from her water bottle when the sparrows returned, twittering and shrieking. They whirled around her like a small cyclone.
Neal, who had come over to talk with her, covered his ears with muddy hands. “Must they be so shrill?” he demanded.
Crown and a male sparrow hovered before Kel’s face. They both clutched a long stick. When Kel held out her hands, the sparrows dropped their burden. Holding up the stick, Kel noticed a fat, gray-green worm was dangling from the end. Or was it a worm? She looked closer. She had seen this gray-green stuff before.
“Qasim?”
He snatched the twig from her hands. “My lord,” he called. Grabbing Kel’s shoulder, Qasim towed her over to Lord Raoul, Lord Wyldon, and Captain Flyndan. Kel’s sparrows trailed her like a flying scarf, with Neal close behind them. Crown perched on the girl’s shoulder and wiped her beak on Kel’s ear.
Qasim gave the twig to Lord Raoul. The big man raised his eyebrows and touched the web. It clung so well that he had to use his belt-knife to scrape it off his skin. “This is fresh,” he commented, letting Lord Wyldon have a look at it. “Where did you find this?”
Qasim pointed to Kel, who gulped. “My lord—” she began.
“Call him ’sir’—he prefers it,” murmured Qasim.
“Sir,” Kel said, “my sparrows brought it to me.”
“Pets?” asked Lord Raoul, raising his brows. “We weren’t allowed them in my day.”
“They aren’t pets, exactly,” Kel explained nervously, keeping an eye on Lord Wyldon. “They live in the courtyard outside my room, and I feed them, and—they seem to like me. And Neal— Neal of Queenscove—he says palace animals are so much cleverer since Daine came there...” Lord Wyldon’s mouth twisted, and Kel shut up.
“Too bad they can’t lead us to the spidrens,” Lord Raoul remarked with a sigh. “Any idea on how far they might have flown before they encountered this?”
Kel shook her head. She had an idea, though she knew Lord Wyldon would not want to hear it. She hesitated, then decided she had nothing to lose. “My lord knight commander,” she began.
Qasim nudged her.
“Sir,” Kel corrected herself. “I think they could lead us to the spidrens.”
“Are you a wildmage too?” asked the big knight. “You can speak with them?”
“No,” Kel admitted, “but I think they understand more than you’d guess.”
“They know who’s planning a dirty trick on Kel and who isn’t,” Neal said abruptly. “They know who’s her friend and who isn’t.”
“Sir, if Kel thinks they might lead us, maybe we should listen.” Kel looked around, startled. Faleron had drawn closer while Sir Raoul had examined the spidren web.
“She’s smart about a lot of things,” added Merric, standing close to Neal. “Whatever some people say.” Neal and Faleron nodded agreement when Lord Raoul looked at each of them.
Crown rose from her shoulder, fluttering, and called to the others. They flew with her to the clearing’s edge and perched on a tree. Crown then flew back to Kel, chattering, turned, and rejoined her flock.
Lord Raoul scratched his head. “This is what I’ve come to,” he said mournfully. “Following little birdies.” He singled out first a local guide, then ten pages and soldiers, including Qasim and Joren. To his second he said, “I’ll take ’em, Flyndan. You might want to break out blazebalm and torches.” He glanced at the sky. “It’ll be dark soon. Feed everyone, and save some for us. All right, youngster,” he told Kel, “they know you best, and your friends seem to think you’ve a head on your shoulders. Let’s see how quiet you can lead. You’re on point.”
“But, sir—” she argued. Wyldon would never approve.
“They’re your birds,” Sir Raoul told her. “Do you think they can lead us? If you’re not sure, we’ll just keep fumbling around.”
Crown cheeped impatiently at Kel. The girl took a deep breath. “Yes, sir, I think they can lead us.
“Then let’s go,” ordered Sir Raoul.
Kel looked up into the big man’s sloe-black eyes and sighed. Resettling her grip on her staff, she walked over to the sparrows’ tree. They took off, leading her toward a trail through a cut in two rocks. She advanced as quietly as she knew how, keeping an eye for brush and pebbles underfoot. She was on her mettle with seven men and three of the pages following. Even if I can’t come back, she thought fiercely, I’ll have done this much. I’ll have led a spidren hunting party.
The sparrows landed within view, on top of a flat rock. As soon as she drew even with them they flew again, taking care to remain in sight. There was no two ways about it: they knew where they were going, and they wanted her to follow. The humans climbed up through what seemed to be an endless tumble of stone until the birds checked at the top of the rise and came speeding back to Kel. They immediately landed on every perch her body might offer, feathers raised, quivering.
“Who needs a wildmage when they’re saying plain as heralds that they’ve seen monsters?” Lord Raoul’s voice was an almost soundless murmur in her ear. She hadn’t even heard the big knight come up beside her.
He motioned her to stay put, got low to the ground, then inched his way to the pile of boulders that formed the crest. Three of them formed a triangle of space; he undipped a spyglass from his belt, opened it, and thrust it into the triangle. After a few minutes he closed the glass and worked his way down from his vantage point. With hand signals he urged their party to fall back.
At last he signaled a halt. The men and pages drew close to hear what he’d seen. He rubbed a hand across his mouth for a moment, then said, “There may be more in a cave I saw, but—rough count—I make it about twenty of the things. I’m guessing most are here, now that dark’s coming on and we didn’t spot any out raiding today. They’ve laired up in a pocket valley on the far side of that rise. There’s a waterfall at the northwest end. It forms a stream that runs out in two branches, east and southeast. It leaves about thirty feet of open ground in front of that cave. There’s trees and more rock on the north and northeast sides of the valley—the cave’s part of that rock.”
He looked at the local guide. “It’s Lady’s Fall, sir,” the man told him. “The gentry picnic there sometimes. The cave’s big enough that young’uns feel bold explorin’ it, but it’s no warren. They can be bottled up in there.”
“What of the valley itself? Are there other approaches than the one we just took?” asked Qasim.
“There’s a rock stair carved by the fall,” said their guide. “We can take a woodcutter’s road to reach it without entering the valley. Have they put webs on the rocks around the fall?” Lord Raoul shook his head. “Then mebbe they don’t know about the stair. It’s slippery, and it’s hid well. And there’s a deer trail across the fork in the stream. It runs past where we left your soldiers, my lord.”
Lord Raoul nodded. “Let’s get them. Time to go to work.”
Two mages of the Own set up magical shields that would hide them from spidren detection as long a
s everyone stayed in one spot. Once that was done, the leaders of the force worked out their attack. As they did, Kel looked at the map Lord Raoul had drawn in the mud. The spidrens had picked their camp well. A broad, deep stream lay across the front of their cave, which was set in rocky hills and thick woods. The Knight Commander drew lines to show where the creatures had spun webs and stretched them across the gaps between trees. Some of the soldiers had sacks of a powder that would melt the spidren webs. Once the element of secrecy was lost, the humans could also light torches to defend themselves from attack and from the webs.
Lord Raoul’s scouting party ate as the plans were laid. Kel’s bread tasted like wood, the thick, cold slices of ham like greasy lead. After Hakuin told them the Yamani proverb “Those who do not eat before battle are eaten by battle,” Kel made herself chew and swallow her food. She could not face more than two bites of cheese, and gave her share to Seaver.
“I think I’m going to faint,” Neal muttered in her ear.
“Me too,” she replied. They smiled weakly at one another.
Once again the party was split up, one group under Lord Raoul, the other under Lord Wyldon. The two lords divided their commands into three ranks. The first was made up of spearmen and mages, the second of bowmen and spearmen, the third of torchbearers and lookouts. Kel, Neal, and the other first- and second-year pages were in the third rank, with one exception. Esmond was placed in the second rank because he could cast bright light.
“He’ll see more of the fighting,” grumbled Merric.
Qasim overheard. “Depend on it, boy, you will see more than you want.”
Lord Raoul explained how each rank would use weapons, magic, and the torches. Once everyone understood precisely how he wanted things done, he said, “My group will enter the valley from this end, along this branch of the stream.” Lord Raoul nodded to the rushing water that ran by the spot where they had gathered. “Lord Wyldon’s group will come down that rock stair by the fall and hit them from the opposite side. We meet and push them back on that cave. You lads, we’re taking a chance on you, but your training master says you’re all up to it.”
Protector of the Small Quartet Page 16