Raieve looked down. "Would it be so bad if you did say such things? Would it be so bad if I said them as well?" She looked up and their eyes met.
"Such things cannot be said between us," Mauritane finally said. "I have a wife in the City Emerald. I take my vows seriously."
"I know that," she said. "I know that, and I respect you for it. But it does not change how I feel."
"Nor I," Mauritane admitted.
They began walking again. "Then it seems we have reached an impasse," she said.
"It would seem so."
Raieve wiped her eye with the back of her sleeve, though Mauritane could see no tears there.
"What is the matter that you wished to discuss," she said, "since the other matter has so swiftly run its course?"
Mauritane set his jaw. "I believe one of the others is a spy, although which one of them, and for whom, I cannot say."
Raieve looked over her shoulder. "Are you certain? How do you know?"
"Several nights ago, before we crossed the Ebe, someone took a message jar from my saddlebags while we slept. I found the empty jar hidden away from the camp. Last night, another one disappeared. Streak told me that it was a man who had taken them each time, so I knew the spy could not be you."
Raieve snorted. "And here I was beginning to think you might actually trust me."
"I don't have the luxury of trusting anyone, Raieve," said Mauritane.
Raieve must have detected the weariness in his eyes. "No, it was foolish of me to say. I apologize." She began to bite her lip again. She noticed Mauritane's eyes on her and pursed her lips together instead. "Whom do you suspect?" she said.
"For a time I suspected Honeywell," said Mauritane. "He was extremely loyal, but he had a large family, and that could be used against him. After his death, I noticed nothing else unusual until last night."
"It seems unlikely that it would be Mave," Raieve said. "No one knew he was coming with us, him included, until after we'd left Crere Sulace."
Mauritane nodded. They reached the stream and knelt by the water's edge, dipping the first pair of skins into the current. "Of Satterly and Silverdun, I'd be more prone to suspect Silverdun, as much as I am loathe to admit it. He's lost much since his imprisonment and perhaps sees this as a way of restoring some of his former power."
"But what of Satterly?" she countered. "How much do you know about him? He's human, and it's well known that oaths mean nothing to them."
"I've thought about that as well," said Mauritane. The first skin full, he replaced its stopper and draped it on the bank, selecting another. Raieve took it from him and filled it herself.
"I don't trust Satterly at all," said Mauritane, "but I don't think he is the informer. For one, he appears to have had little contact with anyone outside of Crere Sulace, and for another, no one could have suspected that I would select him for this mission." He let the skin sink into the stream. "No, I fear that Silverdun is the one."
"Think of it from the other direction," said Raieve. "Who would place a spy among us?"
"The obvious choice would be Purane-Es," said Mauritane. "He, however, knows as much about this mission as I do. I also think he'd prefer that we fail."
"Perhaps the spy's purpose is to coordinate an ambush by Purane-Es himself?"
Mauritane shook his head. "Not unless he has retainers I don't know about. All of Purane-Es's men that I've seen were once under my command, and I doubt they would have the heart to slay me. Though I would not put it past him to hire mercenaries."
"Who else? The Queen? What about the Unseelie?"
"Honestly, I can't imagine," said Mauritane. "If only I knew why we were here, this would not be so difficult. How can I discern an enemy when I don't even know where I stand?"
He hung his head. "I have tried all my life to live as honorably as I knew how. I trusted those around me. I was loyal to my Queen and my country without question. And now I don't know who or what to trust anymore. After what we did to that Unseelie soldier, making him shame himself, I'm not even sure I trust my own motivations anymore. Where is the line between honor and duty? It used to be so clear to me but I can't see it anymore!"
Raieve touched his arm. "Listen to me," she said. "That Unseelie dog dishonored himself when he opened his mouth and started yapping. None of the others chose to do so. They had honor I never would have given their kind credit for. If a man flees from a battle, is the opposing general to blame for his calumny?"
"It was not a battle, and we deceived him. What bothers me is that I no longer know if my loyalty to my Queen truly justifies it."
"If it means anything, I think you are one of the most honorable men I have known, and your questioning of it only means that you're too wise to be satisfied with following blindly."
"Thank you," he said, his voice hesitant. "But of course now we have reason to believe that the Unseelie may be preparing an offensive. If that happens, then I fear none of this will even matter!"
Raieve's water skin was nearly full. Her hand slipped in the cold water and she let go of it, overbalancing. She began to fall toward the stream.
Mauritane reached out, catching both the water skin and her arm in his strong grip. He pulled her away from the water and they fell backward onto the dry grass. Their faces were only inches apart, their arms and legs touching. They remained motionless that way for a few breaths, their eyes locked and their lips barely apart.
Slowly, he reached out with his other arm and pulled her closer to him.
"Do not be sorry," she said. "Let your worries fall away, just for now." She closed her eyes and leaned forward, brushing her lips against his.
He lacked the strength to fight the current of her. In his confusion she was the only thing that currently made sense. He lowered her to the ground by the water's edge and let his heart take over.
Chapter 22
the unusual properties of a shifting place
When morning came, Mauritane and Raieve again found themselves alone while the others slept. From their vantage point, they could see the roughly etched ground that stretched to the horizon in every direction, marked here and there with streams and rock formations and the misty shimmering patches that were the shifting places. From a distance, the shifting places could barely be made out against their surroundings. From the ground, however, they were nearly impossible to spot, and Silverdun had spent the past three days studiously avoiding them. Now, Mauritane was preparing to order his party directly into them, and the thought did nothing for his peace of mind.
"There is much to discuss after last night, don't you think?"
Mauritane sighed. "I suppose there is."
"Ha," Raieve laughed, in the bitter way that Mauritane found attractive. "It's good to know that even as decent a man as you hates to face the consequences of his desires. It speaks well of the others I've encountered in my life."
Mauritane scowled but did not rise to the bait. "I don't know how I feel about what happened last night."
Raieve's laugh dwindled away. "I think I know. You enjoyed yourself, but in the harsh light of day, you find that you regret what came so easily while the sun was set."
"No," he said. "I don't regret what happened. You'll think me a coward or a hypocrite because I don't wish to continue what I started last night. But that's the truth of it. I could offer a dozen excuses but that's all they would be. I won't insult you with them."
"Well," she said ruefully. "That's something then, isn't it?"
"I'm not sorry about what happened," he said.
"No, just loyal to something else."
"Is that wrong?" He glared at her.
"No," she said. "You're a loyal man, perhaps the most loyal I've met. But you should not confuse loyalty and love. I only hope the objects of your loyalty return your favors."
Mauritane changed the subject. "Last night you said you had a plan to catch the informer."
"Yes, but let's discuss it later. I don't think I want to talk to you right now."
When they were all awake and ready to ride, Mauritane gathered them on horseback and asked them to pay attention. Raieve showed no trace of her earlier bitterness, and Mauritane felt certain his face was empty of emotion as well.
"I've decided that if we're going to reach Sylvan by Fourth Stag, we must ride into one of the quickened shifting places. Silverdun, explain what I mean."
Silverdun sat proudly on his roan, though he kept the cloak tightly hooded. "There are several different types of shifting place; I studied them extensively in my Academy days. Some are rents in the very stuff of matter. These are lethal, quick moving, and the hardest to spot. Riding into one of them is like riding into a brick wall. Others are fields in which time moves at a different rate from our own. Some are slowed, some are quickened. The quickened places tend to be narrow and stretch for many miles. If we can successfully ride into one of them, a day's ride within might be the equivalent of three or four days' ride at a normal pace."
"Apparent physical impossibilities aside," said Satterly, "it sounds like a great trick. What's the catch?"
"The difficulty is crossing the shifting place's border. If you ride through quickly, at a direction perpendicular to the boundary, you may experience nothing more than a brief headache. Take the crossing too slowly, or at too great an angle, and you could be shredded like a cabbage by the shearing forces of the boundary."
"But we can't even see them," said Satterly. "How do we know to make our approach?"
"I will be your eyes," said Silverdun. "The thing can be done; I've seen it before at the Academy. They have great engines there capable of producing such rifts."
Mauritane nodded. "Ordinarily, on a volunteer mission such as this, I would ask anyone who felt uncomfortable risking his life in such a manner to except himself. Here, though, your chances of survival in the Contested Lands alone are small at best. We ride as one, or we give up now and the rest of you make your escape."
"The rest of us?" said Mave. "Why wouldn't you come with us if we chose not to go?"
"I have my responsibilities," said Mauritane, his eyes on Raieve, who pretended not to notice. "I cannot absolve myself of them. You, however, have not taken the vows that I have."
"Well," said Satterly, "I've come this far. It seems dumb to turn back now."
"For once I agree with the human," said Silverdun. "I'm already receiving bruises; I at least want a chance at the prize."
"I have nothing to return to," said Mave quietly.
"And I have no wish to die alone," said Raieve.
Mauritane frowned. "Fine. It's decided. We ride in five minutes. Be ready."
Silverdun rode far ahead of the rest, carrying a bag of river stones in one hand. He moved slowly, at a walk, whistling out to the left, then to the right, then in front of him. Every so often he would take a stone from the bag and toss it sidearm in the direction of his last whistle. He'd carefully monitor the stone's spinning progress until it landed and fell still, then move on.
After an hour, their campsite was still in plain view behind them. Mauritane sensed that the anticipation of danger was beginning to wear thin, and he continually reminded them to remain alert. Every so often a stiff hot wind would burst forth from some unseen source, or a rain of ice crystals. Some of the shifting places produced eerie sounds, howls and keening wails, some sounding almost Fae or human. Overhead, the sun passed back and forth behind the swiftly moving clouds and the land grew dark and light in strange intervals.
Finally, Silverdun brought his mare to a halt. He threw one stone over his right shoulder, then another.
"This is it," he called back to Mauritane.
Mauritane rode up and stood beside him. He watched Silverdun throw a third stone. It left his hand at a leisurely pace, glinted silver for an instant, then seemed to explode toward the ground at an unbelievable speed. It hopped once, with the same unusual rapidity, then fell to the earth.
"May l?" said Mauritane.
"Be my guest." Silverdun dropped a handful of the water-smoothed stones into Mauritane's palm.
Mauritane threw one, watched the effect repeat, and then tossed the entire handful at once. The stones reached the boundary of the shifting place at minute intervals, and a series of bright silver flashes delineated the periphery of the oblong shifting place.
"It seems to be elongated toward the west," said Silverdun. "Just what we're looking for."
"Good," said Mauritane. "Let's get everyone inside. I'll go first, to show them how it's done and you guide the rest of them."
Silverdun nodded. "Watch closely," he said to the others, whom he waved toward him. "I've got Mauritane aimed precisely perpendicular to where the shifting place will be in a few moments. They don't call them shifting places for nothing, so you must be precise. On my signal, you start moving and I start counting. If you're not in contact with the boundary when I get to three, you're dead." Silverdun threw another stone, so Mauritane could see his target. Mauritane noted the location of the silver flash. He looked forward, seeing nothing, finding it difficult to believe that he was about to risk his life.
"Now," said Silverdun.
Mauritane kicked Streak into motion.
"One," said Silverdun.
He increased his speed, trying to gauge the distance just right.
"Two."
Mauritane realized that he was moving too quickly; he was about to overshoot the mark.
Mauritane heard the beginning of Silverdun's count, but as the word was spoken something hit him in the chest and Silverdun's voice stretched out and fell, lower, lower, lower. Streak reared and nearly turned back; it was all Mauritane could do to force the animal to continue moving.
Then, suddenly, he was safely inside the shifting place. Despite the dull ache in his chest and a sharp pain behind his eyes, he was unharmed. He wheeled Streak around to view the others. Gray Mave was moving forward, his motions protracted, almost comically slow. Silverdun's count seemed to last an eternity. From within the shifting place, he could hear everything outside only as a muted basso roar. Silverdun's voice sounded like the glamoured voices given to dragon puppets in children's theater. Mave moved toward Mauritane at a snail's pace, as though he and his mount were swimming rather than walking.
The forelegs of Mave's gelding entered the shifting place first and for an instant it appeared as though the beast were stretched out along its spine, its forelegs many paces ahead of its hind legs. Gray Mave suddenly winced as though he'd been struck, then he flew into the space alongside Mauritane, traveling finally at a normal speed.
"Are you all right?" asked Mauritane, when Gray Mave's wince did not fade.
"I will be," said Mave. "The buggane's cut did not take the trip well." He held his hand out from his chest and there was fresh blood on his fingertips.
"Have Silverdun look at it when he comes through," said Mauritane. He tried to push out of his mind the thought that the buggane's blade might have been poisoned. "He may know some healing magic for it."
Mave nodded, guiding his horse out of the way for the next traveler.
Raieve was next. Mauritane watched her move, and the slowness of her motions only added to her grace. It was all he could do just to keep his eyes on her. He wanted to ride toward her, pull her up in front of him on Streak's back, and run. Far, far away. But it was not possible. There was a boundary between them that could not be crossed.
She made the crossing without incident, riding a few paces away from Mauritane to watch Satterly and Silverdun come through. The motions of those outside had a hypnotic effect on those within.
Satterly almost made it but at the last moment pulled back on his reins. Just barely, but it was enough. His horse turned and Satterly hit the boundary at an angle, pitching forward from the beast's back. The horse stumbled in the strange glinting edge and fell o
nto its side. Satterly was propelled from the saddle, flying through the boundary and landing hard on the ground.
The horse did not make it. It became stuck in the periphery of the shifting place, and they all watched helplessly as the creature's limbs stretched until they broke, the bones shattering, internal organs bursting and spraying their fluids into the maelstrom of the shifting place's edge. The horse shrieked, a high piercing sound that lowered to a toneless rumble one moment, then lifted to the buzzing of an insect the next as the unknown forces that separated the shifting place from the solid world stretched the animal into an impossible shape, then dropped it to the ground, a shuddering sack of meat. Satterly's folded tent rolled out of the mess, completely unscathed, and stopped at Mauritane's feet.
"Oh, God!" shouted Satterly. He tried to stand, then lurched backward and righted himself, finally falling to his knees. He lowered his head and vomited his breakfast onto the soil.
Silverdun rode easily into the shifting place and stood over Satterly, his hideous face red with anger. "Damn you, human!" he hissed. "You could have gotten yourself killed! Why did you rein him back?"
Satterly shuddered. "I got scared!" he shouted. "I got scared and pulled back on accident. It was an accident!"
Silverdun shouted a curse in Elvish that Mauritane had never heard. "Now all of your supplies are gone, and you'll have to double up with someone the rest of the way. That is, unless we happen to stumble onto a horse ranch somewhere out here! I trust you are pleased with yourself?"
"Enough, Silverdun," said Mauritane, dismounting. "Everyone makes mistakes."
"He can ride with me," said Raieve. "I'm no burden on this mount."
Mauritane helped Satterly to his feet. "Are you hurt?" he asked.
Satterly dusted himself off. "Just bruised," he said. "I'll survive."
"Fine, then. You'll double with Raieve for now. Let's move while the shifting place is with us."
"Idiot!" shouted Silverdun, then he fell quiet.
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