“Told the hounds to scram, I did,” Fred explained, his voice little more than a creaky rasp. “No need for them to get hurt. Then I got hit, first on the gut, then here.”
He motioned toward his jaw. “Went out. Next thing, I was on that tree. Dogs came back, but they can’t undo knots. Horses were gone. Kid was gone. I’d given up hope just about.”
Terrell asked. “Did you know any of them? Hear them say anything?”
“Nope. Heard the kid screaming. I can’t say for sure, but I think they didn’t kill me outright because if they had he’d never have accepted them. They’ll want him to think they’re not so bad.”
“Not so bad?” Griffin was incredulous. “After they beat you up, stole your property, and kidnaped him? They actually think they can come across as anything but scoundrels?”
Adara spoke for Fred. “They can and for good reason. Kipper’s family didn’t want him. From what Fred says, Kipper was placing a lot of hope in Bruin. All they’ve got to do is convince him that they’re a better choice. Believe me, it won’t be that hard.”
Griffin remembered how Adara had spoken of her parents, of the division Bruin had indicated existed between the adapted and the unadapted.
“So you think these kidnappers are adapted? That they stole Kipper because he’s adapted?”
Adara nodded. “I’d go further and say that at least one of those who attacked Fred has trained as a hunter. They were too good at hiding their trail for it to be luck. Honeychild has a bear’s nose and is trained for tracking, but even she lost the trail—and nothing so simple as crossing a stream would be enough to do stop her.”
“I’ll make the next guess,” Terrell offered. “I’d say that they knew Bruin would be on their trail—Bruin and you, Adara. If they had taken the boy before Blue Meadow, then perhaps not, but where else could Fred have been taking Kipper?”
The two hunters nodded agreement. Griffin thought that some sort of modesty had kept them from saying as much themselves.
“None of this means,” Bruin said, “that we will not try to find them and reclaim Kipper. The boy was entrusted to me. His parents may not have known what to do with him, but they did not abandon him. They found him a teacher. I owe them as much as I owe their son.”
Interlude: Between Waking and Sleeping
I know you by your scent, your taste.
Scion sprig slipped beneath my bark.
Without you, part of me, forever fruitless.
With you, expanding potential.
With you, eternal bondage.
9
Hunting of the Fish
Griffin insisted on joining them in their search for Kipper.
“Are you sure, Griffin?” Adara asked when they had a moment’s privacy. “The Old One at Spirit Bay may have answers to your questions. Terrell can get you there.”
Griffin didn’t even raise his gaze from the tubers he was peeling. “The day I stop caring about the fate of a kidnapped child is the day I deserve to be stuck planetside. Count me in.”
Fred’s second dog came back that night. When the pair were cleaned up, they proved to be brown and white dogs of no particular breed. They had long noses, sturdy legs useful for traveling, and broad chests that meant they were probably strong fighters.
The dogs were not adapted, no more than was their master, but that didn’t mean they were useless. Fred called them Scout and Shout, and was obviously very fond of them.
Although Griffin’s participation was accepted, Fred’s raised some argument. Given how weak the man was, the wisest thing would have been to take him either to Blue Meadow or Shepherd’s Call. Fred would have none of this.
“Kipper was my charge, as much or more than Bruin’s,” he stated with a stubborn set to his lips. “I’m coming with you.”
So Fred rode with them, sometimes on Tarnish, for Adara often went on foot to better read the trail, sometimes behind either Adara or Terrell. Adara privately thought that Fred would be useful when they needed to leave the horses and gear. Griffin had learned a lot, but there were so many things he didn’t know.
Although the kidnappers had shown tremendous skill in hiding their trail, in Bruin they were up against someone who had been teaching both the arts of hiding and of finding trails for so long that the only new tricks in the book were those he had written himself.
Moreover, in Honeychild, Bruin had a perfect partner. Bears in general possessed a keen sense of smell—so much so that they were often called “noses on legs.” In her years with Bruin, Honeychild had refined her use of that sense. Where a wild bear might be able to smell the odors of a garbage heap from as far as two miles distant, Honeychild not only could smell the heap, but analyze what she smelled and pass that information on to Bruin. “It isn’t as if they weren’t careful,” Bruin said, when he informed the rest that he had found the trail. “From what Honeychild has gathered, they have been very careful. They have circled back into the foothills, away from the major waterways where they might be seen by trappers or hunters. However, there is only so far one can go in hiding the scent of a large community. Humans, horses, and dogs are all quite smelly in their own ways. Add in the piquant note of scents that shouldn’t be part of the mix—there are at least three bobcats—and we have our group.”
They were seated around a small campfire in their latest camp when Bruin made his announcement. Griffin Dane turned from where he had been cleaning some herbage that would be stuffed into the grouse that were the centerpiece of tonight’s dinner.
“But can’t the same be said for us?” he asked. “Three men, a woman, two dogs, four horses, a mule, a bear, and a puma.”
Bruin nodded. “The same can be said, but we have a few advantages. For one, we are a smaller group. For another, we have a bear with us. Honeychild has not scented a bear with the others. Also, they are settled. Their scent hovers like a fog over their residence.”
Adara leaned forward. “What do we do when we get there, Bruin? Do we try to steal the boy back or do we confront them?”
Bruin replied, “At first, I’d thought to simply steal the boy back. I’m not as flexible as I once was, but I’d bet you and Sand Shadow could pull it off. Now, though … I have a hankering to learn who these people are and why they think they can get away with stealing the ward of Bruin the Hunter.”
“I agree,” Terrell said. “We’ve circled several days beyond Blue Meadow and farther even from Shepherd’s Call, but not so far that a cocky raider might not consider either town or village fair game. We need to make sure they’re not a threat.”
“I’d been thinking something like that,” Bruin agreed. “I’m guessing that we’re after a group that made things too hot for themselves somewhere else. They fled and once they fled, they cast around for empty lands. Even in the days of the seegnur, these mountains were not heavily populated. Now…”
His shrug was eloquent.
“So we all go in,” Fred said querulously. “Don’t think I didn’t guess that you planned on leaving me back with the horses. I’ve got ears.”
“Fred,” Terrell said, “taking you in would be offering a challenge, wouldn’t it? After all, these are the people who attacked you and left you hanging on that hickory tree.”
“Maybe so. Maybe so,” the man agreed, “but remember, I’m the only one that boy Kipper knows. That should count for something. I could play dumb. I could make out that I have no idea who attacked me, but that once you folks came along and cut me down, well, I put Shout and Scout on the trail and they led me right there.”
“That would not seem a reasonable explanation,” Bruin protested. “The kidnappers know they hid their trail better than that.”
“All right, then,” Fred cut in, still determined. “Here’s another tale w
e could give. You helped me, because we were all worried about the boy. We could even imply we thought they rescued him.”
“Might work,” Bruin agreed. “Here’s what I think. Tonight we’ll send Adara out to scout. Tomorrow—unless Adara gives us reason to think otherwise—we ride openly toward this settlement.”
“What if they attack us?” Griffin asked.
“Then we fight back,” Terrell said, flashing his teeth. “You saw us when we fought that metal spider. We are not precisely helpless.”
* * *
That night, Adara and Sand Shadow ate their dinner, then curled up to sleep while the night stretched out and grew comfortably dark. A soft touch from Bruin woke them at the agreed-upon hour.
Adara loved the night. That love was one of the first things that had alienated her from her birth family. Whereas other children her age drifted off to sleep with gathering dusk, Adara grew more alert. Where other children saw goblins and nightfears in every shadow, she simply saw. Quickly, too, she realized that her parents did not see. She took great amusement in hiding night-masked right under their noses. This impish variation on hide-and-seek had not made her precisely popular.
With Sand Shadow acting as guide, they set off soon after awakening. Early spring rains had left the leaves moist enough that, with her feet clad in soft-soled boots, Adara could run with as little sound as did the puma. They set their paths slightly apart, close enough that they could aid each other if need arose.
Sand Shadow warned Adara when they reached where running should give way to skulking. Even without this foreknowledge, Adara would have seen the signs. The kidnappers had been careful not to leave indications that would be visible to a casual traveler, but Adara was a huntress and saw the signs in shifted rock or bent brush, in harvested herbage and gathered bulbs.
Adara knew to expect the log palisade fortification that awaited her at the end of the journey. However, a puma’s eyes saw shapes without human understanding, so when they reached the fort, Adara studied it carefully. The walls were large and carefully built, set in a clearing that had been expanded by harvesting the trees. A stream ran through the clearing and beneath the log walls before emerging on the fort’s far side where it eventually joined a larger tributary.
Some distance from the palisade, the ground showed indication of having been worked, probably in preparation for a garden plot. A strong whiff of horse manure came from the turned soil. A heap of neatly trimmed saplings to one side indicated that this future gardener knew perfectly well that deer and rabbits were no respecters of human crops.
Adara sprang lightly into the lower limbs of a large maple at the outer edge of the clearing. When she was certain she was unobserved, she climbed high enough that she could see over the palisade walls. The structures within were about evenly split between newly built cabins and somewhat worn tents. Most of the livestock was on the small side, but she did see a few horses. Sand Shadow assured her there was also at least one cow.
In Shepherd’s Call at this hour, there would be little or no human activity. Darkness was an effective inhibitor of such, especially since fuel for lanterns and candles was valuable. Within this fort, by contrast, Adara saw movement. The guards walking the catwalk she had expected, for although the defenses were strongly made, they would not stop a puma tempted by a meal of horse.
Or cow … Sand Shadow sent a grisly image into Adara’s mind.
A bear could probably dig under those walls, if given enough time and sufficient incentive. And then, of course, people who stole children must take precautions in case someone came looking for them. Therefore, the guards did not particularly surprise Adara, but the figures crossing the open plaza, clearly going about routine duties, did. They carried neither lanterns nor candles, yet moved with a certainty that seemed to indicate that they shared Adara’s ease with darkness.
Although Adara had taken care to choose a limb for her perch that had enough growth to conceal her, she found herself pressing down against the branch, merging her form into the bulk of the tree. As far as she knew, she would be hidden even in broad daylight, but she had been spoiled by living among those who—with the exception of Bruin—had no gift for seeing in the dark.
Very well, she thought. We had guessed that at least some of those we followed were adapted.
Adara watched a while longer, but even night-adapted eyes could not see more than was offered. Not wanting to be anywhere near when daylight came, she made her way down the side of the maple that faced away from the palisade. Then she hastened back to give her report.
* * *
The next morning, Griffin listened as Adara summarized what she had seen. Initially, the huntress had focused only on facts, but then Bruin invited her conjecture. Adara gave these with an appreciation for the implications of detail that Griffin’s military-minded brothers would have appreciated.
“I’m guessing they arrived there sometime late last summer. The palisade showed some weathering and they’ve had time to build cabins. However, the new garden plot was the only one I saw, so they weren’t there last growing season—or if they were, they didn’t have the resources to spare for a garden.
“I can’t hazard how large a community it is but, based upon the amount of labor and the number of structures, there have to be a couple dozen occupants at the least. I counted six or seven moving around after dark, including the two guards on the walls.
“Whoever set the place up knew what they were doing. Sand Shadow and I checked the brook they’re using for water downstream from the palisade. The water was nearly as pure as it went in. That means they’re being careful with not only their own waste but with watering their animals. If they were letting them drink directly from the stream, the water would be tainted with churned up mud. Horses—and particularly cows—are no respecters of streambanks.”
She paused and Terrell offered, “They might also have a separate well or spring. This is well-watered land and a spring would be reason for locating their fort where they did.”
Bruin asked, “Adara, did you feel that palisade was meant to keep wild animals out or humans in?”
“Both. I can’t really say why…” Adara paused and considered. “I think it was the height and the strength of the walls. Most animals are turned away just by the odor of humans gathered in one place. This area isn’t over-hunted, so most of the wild creatures would choose to go elsewhere rather than force their way in for the dubious reward of fighting humans, then eating their food. So a heavy wall wouldn’t be needed unless they have either enemies or prisoners.”
“You didn’t,” Fred asked, “catch a glimpse of Kipper, did you?”
Adara shook her head. “All the figures I saw moving around were adults.”
“Well,” said Bruin, getting to his feet with an enormous stretch, “we’ll know more today. You said you found a way we can approach with the horses?”
“I did,” Adara said. “They’ve hidden the trail well, especially farther out from their base, but they did bring in several larger animals—including, I’d guess, Fred’s horses.”
“I’d like to have those horses back,” the man said. “They’re good creatures, trail broken. Not much surprises them. Still, getting them back may be too much to hope for.”
“I’m still wondering,” Terrell said, “why they left Fred the way they did. If they wanted to spare his life, why not leave him knocked out until they’d gotten away? Hanging him in the hickory tree like that … It’s neither here nor there.”
“That’s puzzled me, too,” Bruin admitted. “I’ve thought and thought, but I just can’t come up with anything that seems right. Guess we’ll have to ask the folks who did it and see if we believe what they say.”
* * *
Traveling on Artemis was definitely redefining how Griffin thought about terms like “road” and “trail.” Certainly, he wouldn’t ever have dignified what they traveled on that day with the term “trail,” but he had to admit that the route by which Adara g
uided them never failed to admit not only them but their animals. True, sometimes it was necessary to dismount and walk, bending back flexible limbs that would otherwise snap back with stinging force. That was bad enough when you just walloped yourself, but when you hit one of the animals, they took it less than kindly.
Despite the spring rains, the ground underfoot did not mire, nor were the numerous streamlets too deep to ford. By midday, Adara was silently pointing out the various indications that others had used this route not long before: the edge of a hoofprint, a bit of wilted foliage, a rock rolled wrong side up.
Even so, to Griffin, the clearing with the palisade at its center seemed to appear out of nowhere. One moment he was ducking under a low-hanging limb, the next there was open space in front of him. What had momentarily seemed like a particularly thick stand of tree trunks revealed itself as a log wall.
Terrell was riding point, Adara and Bruin covering him from the trees. As soon as Midnight carried Terrell into the open, the factotum hailed the presumed but still unseen watchers.
“Ho, the fort! Travelers come calling.”
Griffin admired the factotum’s boldness. Sure, Adara and Bruin were armed and waiting, but the threat they offered would not stop an arrow shot. At best, their return fire would stop a second volley.
But no arrows came. Instead a single male voice, the sound oddly thinned over the open field, gave an answering call.
“Ho, the travelers. Would that old bear Benjamin Hunter be one of your number?”
Despite their speculations, Griffin was surprised by the direct challenge, but Bruin shouted back without pause.
“This is Ben Hunter. I’ve come calling for my student. Seems he got lost along the way to Shepherd’s Call.”
The reply came so quickly that this might have been call and response in a well-known dance. “So we thought might be the case. Well, come forth and get him. In fact, why don’t you and your friends all come in? Night’s coming on. We can offer you a roof against the weather.”
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