by Sharon Shinn
“They were looking for us,” Tayse said.
“Us? Or just someone camped around a fire?” Donnal asked.
“Us. I’d guess they were guards for the Daughters or else they were men of Gisseltess. We’ve drawn the attention of both in the past weeks.”
“It was too dark to see standards,” Senneth said. “I couldn’t tell who they were, either.”
“Guards for the Daughters,” Donnal said. “I could see moons embroidered on their sashes.”
“Does that make it better or worse?” Cammon asked.
Senneth shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Kirra nodded toward Cammon. “Good job with our horses. They didn’t panic at all.”
Tayse saw him grin in the dark. “Thank you.”
Now Kirra was looking at Senneth and laughing. “And most excellent job with the raelynx. Donnal and I had just been wondering if it might be appropriate to raise a howl or two, but that was more effective than anything we would have managed.”
Senneth was smiling. “And a Coravann man in the troop to identify the sound! I never thought we would be so lucky.”
“I have to admit, it’s the first time I’ve been glad we have that creature along with us,” Justin said.
“What now?” Donnal said. “Can we risk going back to sleep?”
Tayse nodded. “We have to sleep sometime. We’ll just pull farther off the road—and light no more fires.”
A swift smile from Senneth. “I can bring us some warmth even without a flame.”
“And you two,” Tayse continued, looking at Cammon and Donnal, “you’ll have to take turns standing guard for the rest of the night.”
Cammon grinned; Donnal merely nodded. “Yes,” said the dark-haired Danalustrous man. “I think we’re the best watchers you have.”
THEY made a cold camp down in the gully, merely finding a relatively flat place on the ground and clearing out the most uncomfortable of the rocks and branches before laying down their bedrolls. They were all exhausted, but their nerves jangled with adrenaline, so it was hard to sleep. Tayse lay awake a few moments, wondering how long they could continue to travel like this, expecting an attack at any time, day or night, relying on the heightened senses of two of their members to warn them of danger, which might approach from any direction.
They would need all their wits about them as they penetrated into Gisseltess country; it would not do to waste all their energy merely trying to stay alive.
He slept poorly and woke early, starting a fire before the others were up. Senneth’s magic had kept them warm enough during the night, but he thought they could risk a fire in daylight this far from the road, and he longed for the taste of hot food. Justin was the next to wake, then the women. Cammon had fallen asleep when he saw Tayse’s eyes open; Donnal was still snoring faintly, having taken much of the night watch.
“This will be too hard on them over too many nights,” Senneth said, accepting a mug of hot tea from Tayse’s hands.
Kirra shook her head. “I should have taken a watch last night. I can take predator shape and listen as well as they can.”
Senneth gave her a droll smile. “Why is it I think Donnal’s wolf is more alert than your hawk or mountain cat?”
Kirra tossed her gold hair back and laughed. “Because you, like so many others, make the mistake of thinking I am beautiful and frivolous.”
“Frivolous, certainly,” Justin muttered.
She ignored him. “But I assure you, my senses are every bit as sharp as Donnal’s.”
“Good, then,” Tayse said. “You can relieve them tomorrow night.”
Justin looked doubtfully at the sleeping forms. “Should we delay departure this morning? Give them a chance to rest?”
Kirra glanced up at the gloomy sky. “Is it going to snow again? Don’t you think we’ve been on the road for years already as it is?”
“The serramarra appears to be voting against delay,” Senneth said. “I would say, let them rest an hour and then be on the move again.”
Tayse nodded and rose. “I want to check those tracks. See how many passed by last night and try to gauge how much farther they went. If they’re camped ahead of us, waiting for us to ride by, we’re no better off than if they find us sleeping in the night.”
Justin came to his feet, too. “I’ll come with you.”
Tayse shook his head. “Stay here with them—in case. And you might look for water nearby. We’re low.”
“There’s a pond down that way,” Kirra said, pointing away from the road. “Donnal found it in his wanderings. Frozen over, though.”
“Good enough,” Tayse said, buckling on his sword belt. “I’ll be back within the hour, then we’ll head out.”
He was on the road a few minutes later, bending from the saddle to try to read the marks left in the dirt and mud. Here was where the whole troop had halted on the road, arguing over where their quarry might be; here were the hoofprints from panicked horses racing at a dead run down the unlit road. Tayse jogged along at a slow rate, eyes on the ground. Looked like the horses had bolted a good two miles before the riders had been able to pull them up. Even then, the ground was churned with hoofprints, indicating that the riders had had a hard time holding their mounts once they’d slowed them. Tayse doubted they’d really been able to quiet the horses for another mile or two, so they’d probably kept going another hour or more until both men and beasts were so exhausted they practically dropped to the ground to make camp.
He halted in the middle of the road, squinting forward, as if he could see a few miles ahead of him to that imagined camp. They would be as tired as the members of his own small group; would they choose to stay a day, or at least linger late, before pushing on southward? And was this the only convent troop out searching the roads for Senneth and her friends? If Tayse and his party cut through the backwoods and took an indirect route south toward Gisseltess, would they be safe, or would they find soldiers awaiting them at every crossroads?
He shook his head. Surely not. Surely no one could think they were that important. No one even knew who they were for certain, and there must be thousands of travelers who crossed this territory every week. The Daughters of the Pale Mother must have many more errands on which to send out their soldiers—other boundaries to guard, other nonbelievers to track. Tayse and his party would go cross-country toward Gisseltess, which would slow them down even more, but at least they would be safe enough from the Silver Lady’s soldiers.
He tugged the reins and turned his horse back in the direction from which he’d come.
Blocking his way were four soldiers dressed in silver and black.
He jerked the reins so sharply his horse reared backward, almost pitching him from the saddle. Soldiers behind him now, too—soldiers creeping out of the woods—half of them armed with drawn swords, half with leveled crossbows. He had fallen into a trap, and he was surrounded.
CHAPTER 24
SENNETH went for water, and Justin went with her. “I think you’re supposed to watch the camp,” she said.
“You’re the one who’s supposed to be guarded,” Justin said. “Tayse doesn’t even like to leave you alone in a hotel room.”
Is Tayse so dedicated to every person he’s commanded to protect? she wanted to ask, but she knew it was a stupid question. Most often, Tayse rode in defense of the king, for whom he would willingly give his life. Even if Justin could detail for Senneth other protective missions Tayse had undertaken, he still would not give her the answer she wanted. Even if he understood why she was asking.
She herself wasn’t clear on what she wanted to know.
“This way,” Senneth said, skidding a little down an ice-slick trail. “When exactly did Donnal have time to go looking for water last night? That’s what I want to know. I think he made this up.”
Justin was grinning. “I think he prowled around in wolf shape while the rest of us were sleeping.”
“Unfortunately, that still doesn’t make
me feel safe about sleeping.”
“That one could have been bad,” Justin admitted. “There were a lot of them.”
“Night battle, the advantage would always go to us,” Senneth said, reaching more level ground and spotting ahead of her a smooth circle of ice barely as wide as she was tall. “But I’m just as glad it didn’t come to bloodshed.”
Justin knelt by the frozen pond and began hacking at it with his knife, not waiting for Senneth to offer to melt it with a touch. “It will, soon enough.”
She had no answer for that except a sigh.
They broke through several inches of ice to find extremely cold water below, and they filled all their containers. Senneth cupped her hand and scooped up a measure of water, warming it on her palm till it was almost as hot as tea, then sipping it as the steam rose from her fingers. Justin sat back on his heels and watched her without speaking.
She smiled. “I know. You hate my magic.”
He rose to his feet. “Not as much as I used to.”
She knelt there a moment longer, glancing around to see if there was anything else here they might be able to turn to good account. For a moment, foolishly, she wished it was spring. Or she wished they were going to stay in one spot long enough that she could force spring on one small patch of land. She could do it, she was sure—warm the ground with her hands, coax a few buds from the dormant shrubs, grow flowers and fruits in the dead of winter. If she had the patch of land. If she had the time. If, for more than a day or a week or a month at a time, she ever stayed in one place.
“What’s wrong?” Justin asked.
She shook her head and stood up, brushing the cold mud from her knees. “Nothing.”
Cammon and Donnal were still sleeping when they got back, but Kirra had breakfast ready, and the three of them ate quickly. It was strange not to have Tayse nearby, his big bulk both a threat and a reassurance, his watchfulness something to count on, to lean against, like the bole of an enormous tree.
“Have you thought about what you’re going to say to Halchon Gisseltess?” Kirra demanded without preamble. “What you’re going to ask him? Will he even see you?”
Senneth’s lips twisted. “Will he even see me . . . oh, I think so. By now he must have heard reports of our whole party. He might not have pieced together who we are, but once he hears your name and mine—”
“Your name,” Kirra said.
Senneth caught Justin’s quick look and smiled at him. “Halchon dislikes mystics,” she said lightly. “And he has long been familiar with my story.”
“I would think that might put you in more danger, then,” Justin said. “If you ask to meet him and go to his house—what’s to stop him from keeping you?”
Kirra said, “Oh, I don’t know—let’s see—the fact that he won’t want his manor burned down?”
“I can think of places a man could keep a mystic that wouldn’t catch fire so easily,” Justin said. “A stone dungeon, perhaps, with iron bars.”
“It’s not entirely safe,” Senneth admitted. “Which, I think, is why the king insisted I bring two Riders with me. Surely, even if he was moved to offer violence to me, Halchon would not be foolhardy enough to offer violence to a Rider.”
“He might be,” Justin said, “if he was already planning a war against the king.”
Senneth knew her face looked troubled. “In which case, none of us is safe, in any House, on any road.”
Kirra looked around her, as if watching for oncoming foes. “How long has Tayse been gone?” she asked. “He said he’d be back within the hour.”
Justin rose to his feet. “I’ll go look for him.”
Senneth also stood. “Oh no. He wants you with us.”
“We’ll all go,” Kirra said, and leaned over to wake the sleeping men. “Hey, you two. Donnal. Cam. Come on, we know you’re tired, but we all are.”
Donnal came awake quickly and completely. Cammon moved more groggily, as if coming back from the brink of death. He had guarded the camp for half the night, Senneth thought; it was a wonder he could force himself to open his eyes at all. Her attention shifted to Justin, pacing back and forth between the camp and the road. His uneasiness unsettled her, even though she knew Justin could be volatile. But Tayse was not, and Tayse should have been back by now. It was just that she had gotten so used to relying on Cammon to sound the alarm in the face of any real danger—
Her gaze went back to Cammon, just now taking advantage of a huge yawn to shove a square of bread into his mouth. But Cammon, of course, had been sleeping so soundly—
He caught her eyes on him, or the worry in the forefront of her mind. His mouth snapped shut and he glanced around the camp. “Where’s Tayse?”
Justin spun to look at him. “We don’t know. Scouting. He’s supposed to be—”
Cammon scrambled to his feet, a wild expression on his face, and cast about like a hunting dog. Donnal and Kirra rose more slowly, alarm in their eyes. Without warning, Justin flew across the camp and grabbed Cammon by the arms, giving him a hard shake.
“What is it?” the Rider demanded. “What do you see? What happened to him?”
Cammon looked small and frightened in Justin’s menacing hold. His eyes went over Justin’s shoulder and sought out Senneth. “I think someone’s taken him,” he said.
THEY were too far behind to do much good—an hour, at least, Justin estimated by the tracks. It was Donnal who had led him to this exact spot, taking the shape of a bloodhound and sniffing his way down the southern road. The scents were fresh, and they had a pretty fair idea of what had happened, so he loped along at a good clip, nose down, ears flopping beside his long face. He had come to a churned-up section of the road and paused there a few moments, snuffling the mud and crossing the road multiple times as if to follow four or five different trails.
Justin had crouched on the side of the road and seemed to be trying to count the hoofprints. When Donnal flowed back into human shape, the Rider came to his feet and they all clustered together in the middle of the road.
“Here,” Donnal said quietly. “I’d say there were at least ten soldiers surrounding him. Laid a trap, obviously—probably hoped they’d catch the whole lot of us.”
“Did he fight?” Senneth asked.
Justin gave her a quick look, full of morbid humor. “No blood,” he said. “No bodies. He didn’t fight.”
“Where are they taking him?” Kirra asked.
“Depends on who has him,” Senneth said. “If it’s Gisseltess men—”
“I saw moons on their cloaks last night,” Donnal said.
She nodded. “Then—to the convent, I would guess. For—interrogation?”
“For ransom?” Kirra asked doubtfully.
For execution? No one wanted to say the words out loud, but they hovered at the back of Senneth’s mind. It was as Justin had said, not an hour ago. A man—or a woman—intent on declaring war against the king could make no stronger statement than to assault a Rider.
“He’s still alive,” Cammon said. “But I can’t tell much else.”
“Maybe unconscious,” Donnal said.
Senneth shrugged. “He was never easy for Cammon to read.”
Cammon rubbed the heels of his hands across his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said in a subdued voice. “I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t been sleeping—I would have felt something—even sleeping, I should have felt something—maybe I did, maybe I was too tired to realize it—”
Senneth put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault,” she said gently. “Tayse is the last one who would have said you had to protect him.”
Justin flung something violently into the road—a rock, Senneth thought—and strode back for his horse. “Enough talking! We ride to find him now!”
Senneth hurried to catch up with him, grabbing one of his arms and pulling him around to face her. He turned so fast she thought he was going to swing his fist and hit her, but he restrained his impulse. His face was wild with fury and fear, and he
wrenched free of her with one hard tug.
“Let go of me!” he cried. “He is—Tayse is—I have to go to him! Stay here if you want—all of you—but I must find him! He is—he is—”
And he stood there in the middle of the road, that sneering, cynical boy, and began to weep with grief.
“Justin—Justin,” Senneth exclaimed, pulling him back to her with one hand on his arm, putting her other hand up to his cheek, his forehead, pushing some of her own heat and strength into him. “Justin, listen to me, we will get him back. Justin, do you hear me? We will go to him. I will go after him. I will not abandon him, Justin, I swear to you.”
He tried desperately to stop his crying and made an effort to turn away from her, humiliated and terrified and paralyzed with helplessness. “You can’t—you won’t,” he sobbed. “You would save Kirra or Cammon, but you won’t go after Tayse—you hate him, he’s not important to you—”
“Justin,” she said, catching his arm again, pulling his face around so he must look in her direction even if he refused to look at her. “I would go after any of you. The Riders, the mystics. I would save you—I will save Tayse. Look at me, Justin. Tell me you believe me. Tell me you trust me. I will not let him fall.”
He sniffled and drew his sleeve across his face, trying to clean it, trying to hide it. “It’s Tayse,” he whispered.
“It’s Tayse,” she agreed. “We will go after him. But we have to have a plan. Are you with me, Justin? Will you trust me? I can do this. But you have to help.”
Finally he looked at her, his eyes swollen, his face blotched with tears and terror. For a moment she saw the boy Tayse must have seen so long ago on the streets of Ghosenhall—fighting for his life, knowing it was such an easy thing to lose. She put her hands again to both sides of his face and drew him closer so that his forehead rested against hers. “I trust you,” he whispered. “What do you want me to do?”