These types of thoughts rather than any other occupied her mind, but she never let the others know. Selfish though it may be, and most unlike her, Zya still felt that this was none of their business – not even her father's.
“Done,” stated Ju. Zya had become so preoccupied with her own thoughts that she had been paying barely any attention to the task that had become so automatic. She also realised with a fair amount of guilt that she should have been keeping an eye on Ju. He sat there, resting on his heels, showing off his grim handiwork. True enough, Ju had done a great job. The meat was nestled in a heap of herbs, legacy of Gren's teachings. The rest was bundled off to one side, wrapped in leaves and ready for burial. The skin was hanging from a low branch nearby. Zya looked down at the roots, cut exactly as she intended them to be, but she had not realised she was even doing it. The dagger was even sheathed. She silently berated herself for not paying more attention to the chores, part of an agreement with her father to see the boy came to no harm.
“Add some water, and we will stew this nice for when father returns,” Zya suggested.
“And then I am going to learn how to turn this rabbit fur into a hat,” Ju announced.
“Fair enough, but I wouldn't leave a fresh skin hanging around like that for too long if I were you. You never know what might come looking when it gets a whiff of something fresh like that.” Zya dreaded to think what might come upon their camp in the wilderness: wolves, or some other fanged scavenger. But from the look he gave her, Zya saw that Ju thought she was the thing he should fear most. “Just wrap the skin in those large leaves and leave some scented herbs around it. That should leave it safe enough. Ju did as Zya suggested, and the two of them moved off to check on the horses and the rest of their little camp as they waited for Tarim to return.
Their wait was longer than expected, with the dusky shades of evening already approaching before Zya's silent father emerged from the wrong side of the trees. They took their meal without comment, clearing all trace of their stay before Ju finally asked the question that had been on both their minds. “Did you see anything?”
“I might have,” Zya's father replied.
“There was something far-off that gave me an uneasy twinge. It might have been nothing, but we will alter our direction of travel anyway.” Zya knew when to trust her father's intuition, and now was one of those times. Tarim respected her feelings in most matters, and Zya was at least partially convinced that it ran in the family.
Ju however, had not grasped the concept of this. “Why are we not heading straight to Bay's Point? Surely it would be safer there?” Quietly, so that only those present could possibly hear, Tarim began to explain.
“Bay's Point harbours cut throats, brigands and mercenaries from every corner of the known world, Ju. It is a big city; one we could easily lose both ourselves and possible pursuers in. But at this time, the danger is too great. Even if we could get there quickly, and it is still possibly a season off, we would be in much greater danger there. Out here, I have an uneasy feeling, but it is a feeling that can be easily dealt with by a change of direction. In a city such as that, we would not have that luxury.”
As was usually the case, Ju partially comprehended what Tarim was trying to tell him, but not all of it. Zya could see as much in his eyes. “Do we move now?” she asked of her father.
Tarim nodded in reply. “Let us break camp now and ride North. Ju, you will ride with me. We'll find somewhere nice and sheltered and lay low for a couple of days, see if we can't let whatever is back there pass us by.”
They rode until well after dark, trusting the geography of the land to hide them, as there were no trees whatsoever. Eventually, they found a small copse within a dip. It would provide for them well, as it had a stream running through it, with a pool that glistened in the moonlight. They spent the next couple of days there, in a makeshift hideaway. Tarim's feeling never lessened though. Periodically, he would go out to check for tracks, or signs of far-off movement, and always return with a look that Zya knew as irritated. On the third day, Tarim left Zya and Ju alone again to look, both noticing that he appeared different somehow. Zya could have sworn that her father was expectant of something. After brushing the horses down, she ambled over to the pool, where Ju was trying to catch tiny fish, using twig and yarn as a makeshift rod.
He looked up as she approached through the trees. “How much longer do we have to stay here, Zya?” he half whined with a voice full of boredom and childish complaint.
“Did you see how eagerly my father left to scout back then?”
Ju pondered over what he had seen during the morning. Tarim always did things in a certain way, but this morning he had missed practising with his sword. “He was in a hurry!” Ju announced triumphantly, pleased that he had figured it out.
Zya nodded in agreement. “That is what I thought as well. He thinks something is going to happen this morning, what it is I do not know. But he was doing things differently to his normal routine. I should say that we will not be here for very much longer, Ju, but do not mention it to father, just be patient.”
Ju and Zya tidied the camp, readying everything should their quick departure come to pass. True enough, just as they were finishing, Tarim emerged through the trees. “ I knew it,” he announced. “There are three of them, all dressed in brown and black. They were not close enough to notice me, but I found their camp. They are giving themselves away even less than we are, but it was still not enough. They're asleep, as far as I could make out, so let us make some headway before they realise that they have been spotted.” Tarim looked around the camp, nodding with satisfaction at the sight. He put his arm around his daughter's shoulder to give her a quick hug. “ I never could hide anything from you, Zya.”
Zya hugged her father back. “Will they catch us?”
“Not if we are clever and keep ahead of them they won't. Let us leave now, while we have the advantage.” Glancing around the camp for any detail left of their stay, Tarim was impressed by the efforts. Only signs detectable by the most experienced tracker would give them away. Tarim knew for a fact that those following them were as experienced as any he had known. The blades of grass needed straightening, and things like this he did as a matter of course. Zya had been teaching Ju well, and although Tarim found the signs left by one of his experiences, he could tell that the boy was learning fast. Boosting Ju up ahead of him, he bade them to keep silent as they urged the horses into a trot that would eat up distance, yet be as quiet as possible.
The cold murk of the morning greeted them as they left the copse and rode steadily North, all the time leaving Zya with an itchy feeling that she was being watched. As before, nothing materialised. The mountains became much more visible as the range bent towards the West, more so as they rode further. The peaks did not look as threatening from this distance though, a fact that Zya was pleased about. They were steeper here, and there were fewer peaks visible than there were to the South. But they still looked dangerous, and her father agreed when Zya voiced the opinion, “There is a city up in the hook of the mountains as they veer East. It is called Raessa, and is home to the witch finder General, a man who supposedly looks over the land and keeps the unlawful in check.”
“How can a man who lives up in the mountains look after so many people everywhere?” queried Ju in his pipsqueak voice.
“Nobody has any idea, Ju.” Tarim replied as he gazed off towards the distant mountains. “Just be sure that you never find your way to Raessa. Stay well away from it, and those mountains.”
They made a lot of distance travelling North-East along the tributary of the Boarsrush. The ground was fairly level, and the forests, when there were any, were less dense than those they had passed through to the South. The trees were thinner and the leaves more spindly. A breeze blew out of the North, bringing the promise of rain, or so her father told them. The sensation of being watched lessened as they rode on, and Zya became more comfortable as time passed. It was evident that her fath
er felt the same way, for he dropped his guard visibly, appearing to actually enjoy the ride.
There was not much in the way of game in the parts they rode, though Ju caught a few fish as he practised along the river at night time. The foliage was not adequate either, and though the horses survived quite well, all of the small company became quite lean. Despite this, Zya swore that she had never felt better or fitter in her life. The effect of the constant outdoor exposure was having a good effect. She also realised that the bad feeling resulting from her experiences in Hoebridge was gathering distance, but if she bent her mind to the thought and concentrated, the feeling of something wrong was still obvious far to the South.
As they travelled, the river appeared to reduce in size, almost devolving from the plodding giant to something more sprightly. Boulders and smaller rocks could be seen in the stream, and it tended to burst with a boundless enthusiasm rather than flow in the stately manner of the great rivers. The effect of the stream could be seen on the surrounding environment as well, for whereas the lower river affected the entire surrounding area, the stream nourished only a narrow strip of land. Trees seldom grew away from it, and grass was sparse amongst the rocks.
One day, they woke to see that the mountains were in front of them and they realised quickly that had turned almost due East, not the direction they wanted to go. Tarim decided that they should cross the stream and travel the other side of it to the source, and then head off West. This strategy worked well until they came to a point where they could see the stream winding its way steadily up towards the mountains, in exactly the direction they did not want to go. Stopping at a pool below a point where the stream became a jolly, but nonetheless, small waterfall, they made camp while Tarim pondered over matters.
While Ju was preoccupied with fishing the pool, Tarim quietly signalled to his daughter to move away from the bank. When they were far enough away that Ju could not hear them, Tarim looked back the way they came. Zya saw then that he was still as cautious as ever, he had just not shown it. “What do you think, Zya? Could they have followed us?”
Zya closed her eyes, trying to search deep down for any feeling that might indicate they were not alone. There was something, but it was different. “Something has changed father, but I do not know what. I only wish I knew what it is that's inside of me; that I could put it to better use. But for what it is worth, I do not feel the same as when we were pursued as before.”
Tarim nodded, his eyes looking at once relaxed and dangerous. “We are too close to those mountains for comfort, even if they are still many leagues off. I think we should head West from here, and leave it all behind us.”
“Will we go to Bay's Point?” Zya asked of her father, well aware of what he had told them about the city's reputation.
“Eventually. It is not safe, that is for sure, but it will be a long time before we reach that, and many things may yet happen. I want you to learn what is inside of you, my daughter. The only way for that to happen is for you to study with one of the guilds. I can ply my trade as a carpenter well enough when we find habitation, and will survive well enough. But let us worry about the present. Don't let any of our thoughts reach Ju for he is only young. There is no need to have him worry unnecessarily.”
They walked back to the pool to find Ju there grinning. Lined up beside him were no less than six large silver fish. “I got supper!” he announced emphatically.
“In that short space of time?” Zya asked of the boy.
He nodded, almost too excited to contain himself. “They are practically jumping out of the water, ready to bite anything that moves. Come look for yourselves.” Even while she was crossing the short distance to the pool, Zya could see the silver monsters circling the plunge pool of the waterfall. The place was positively teeming with life. The fish almost contested with each other for space, a squad of silvery soldiers jostling for position with each other.
Zya looked at the waterfall. Through it, under the overhang, the water continued. It got dark quickly there, but the fish were still visible. “Look father, how the pool extends back under the waterfall.”
Tarim looked, bending down on his knees to try to get a better view as to the extent of the tunnel. “Low, but I would wager it goes back a ways. I would say that the fish have become trapped here at some point. The Gods only know how they have survived.” At that point one huge silvery fish jumped straight up out of the water, landing with a splash, causing all three to jump back in surprise.” Tarim chuckled. “Well there's one method of survival, and probably the reason they are out here. Flies.” Sure enough, above the water, there was a swarm of midges, the tiny insects creating a cloud above the water's surface. “ I think we have enough fish though. I will build a cook-fire; you two, see what you can find in the way of herbs.
At a protest from Ju, who wanted to stay and help with the fish, Zya found herself solely responsible for adding some sort of nourishment to the meal. There was not far to look though. The horses were ravenously attacking what vegetation grew by the side of the stream, so she decided to look further up the bank. As she climbed past the waterfall, the entire area seemed to disappear from sight. Looking back, Zya realised that unless you stumbled right upon it, from this side of the waterfall, it was difficult to tell that it even existed. The stream ribboned up away from her, to a source that she would never see. Dismissing the thought from her mind, Zya focussed on the task at hand, though she did wonder where the water came from. There was a source of wild horseradish that was relatively plentiful, and Zya gathered a good handful, all the while wondering if the river's source was responsible. Coming to her senses with a start, Zya found herself a good ten paces away from the stream, staring up at the mountains. She turned, seeking the horseradish. Zya discovered with a stunning realisation that she had wandered quite a distance up the bank of the stream and it took quite a while to reach it again. Finishing her task, she started to head back, and then wondered if she walked just a bit farther upstream, maybe she would find a better supply.
“I wouldn't risk it again if I were you,” a voice cautioned her from behind. The shock was enough to startle Zya out of any thoughts of walking anywhere. She turned to face the source of the voice, forgetting even to loosen her dagger. At first glance, Zya thought the voice belonged to a boy, but as he moved with a fluid grace that betrayed years of experience, she realised he was at least as old as she, if not older. He was tall, and very thin, with a complexion not unlike her father's but different somehow. His hair was much shorter for one thing, and his skin a lot darker – evidence that the sun was strong where he came from. He stayed a distance back from her, his stance conveying an impression of reassurance, not of intrusion, and anything but aggressive intentions. Indeed, he seemed intrigued, even fascinated by Zya.
“What are you doing up here?” he murmured quietly, as if thinking out loud, or even daydreaming.
“Gathering herbs for a meal,” Zya replied.
The man chuckled. “You were long past gathering herbs. You would have been halfway to Raessa if I hadn't been keeping an eye on you.” Suddenly Zya understood the strange feeling she had been having. Someone had been watching them, but not for the same reasons as those who had followed them, hence the difference she could not quite place.
“You have been watching us, following us, haven't you? Before now, I mean.” He nodded, not in an admission of guilt of any sort, but just as a statement of fact. “It is what I do. I am the fisherman. You are about to feast upon my fish.” He nodded in the direction of the spindly column of barely-visible smoke emanating from a position to the West. Zya crossed her arms defensively.
”What are you talking about? How can they be your fish?”
“You don't surely believe that fish of that size survive on flies alone?” he answered, sounding more amused than anything else. Zya was having a hard time reading him, something that was usually not a problem.
“Look. I promise that my intentions are good. Lead me back to your camp
and I will explain all to you and the other two.”
Still unconvinced, Zya countered with an idea of her own. “Why don't you explain all now, before I decide whether or not to lead you back?”
“Because if you don't get that bundle of herbs back soon, they are going to start cooking without you,” he replied with a grin. “Look, I will lead the way and you can stay behind me and point that dagger at me for all that it's worth. Just promise me that you won't start staring at the mountains again.”
Zya nodded her assent, and the stranger moved off, almost seeming to float as he moved. She loosened her dagger, but did not remove it from its sheath. She didn't know why, the urge was there to draw it. The stranger did not seem openly hostile and between the three of them he would not be a problem. She steadfastly refused to turn her head around, in spite of the temptation. He had saved her from losing herself to whatever compelled her Eastwards, and he seemed friendly enough. She remembered a saying belonging to Gren. 'Do not trust anyone girl, ever.' Well, this person had given her every reason to trust him, but she would let time tell whether or not she should. The walk back to the camp was a brisk affair and reinforced for Zya how far she had actually walked.
“Glad I stopped you now?” came the comment from the fisherman, as he called himself.
“For that, you have my thanks, fisherman,” was Zya's reply. When they gained the waterfall, Zya cautioned the fisherman to halt. “You wait here. I will go to the camp and call you down. Do not come before, my father knows as well as I that someone has been watching us, and he may act first and ask questions later.”
Unconcerned, the fisherman crouched and rocked slowly on the balls of his feet. Taking his movement as acquiescence, Zya climbed down past the waterfall and into the small camp by the pool. Tarim looked up as she returned. “What took you so long? We thought you were going to be all night.” Her father's conversational tone was laced with the concerned edge of a worried parent. Zya was sure that this was lost on Ju though, who carried on with the fish as if nothing was amiss in the world. Zya handed the herbs over to Ju without comment. He sniffed at them, shrugged his shoulders, and began to stuff them into the cavities of the he had already prepared.
The Focus Stone (The Tome of Law Book 1) Page 32