“Black Wolf,” he acknowledged. He handed the rope back to the others.
Wora had dropped his bow point, but he’d kept the arrow nocked. Nori knew that, like Wakje, he could draw and fire in a second. She ignored him and looked only at the tracker. “You don’t belong with them.”
Broziah rubbed a grizzled chin. “I took their silver. I’ll want the rest they promised.”
She felt the snarl in her voice and steadied it. “How much was the offer?”
His eyes glinted. “Two silvers to go on the job, three coppers a day, plus gear costs—two silvers, three coppers—up front. A five-silver bonus if I managed to corner you.”
She raised one slim eyebrow. “Steep.”
His grey eyes were shrewd. “Black Wolf and two Tamrani?”
Slowly, she nodded. “About six silvers then, still owed.”
“Aye, that’s what I figure.”
“Stay here, and I’ll pay it to you.”
Wora stiffened, but Broziah cocked his head at her words. B’Kosan’s eyes narrowed.
Nori kept her violet gaze on the tracker. “Stay, and I’ll pay your fee.”
Broziah didn’t look at the Harumen. “You’d have to do better than that. They’d want a break-duty fee, too.”
“Ten silvers.”
“Black Wolf bidding against the Haruman?” The tracker smiled faintly. “Now that’s worth a bit to the songsters.”
Her jaw tightened to a white line under the grime. “Go with them then. You’ll get what you bargained for.” Her gaze swept the Harumen. She took a step forward, menacing as a wolf. “Go,” she said softly, “but take this knowlege with you.” The blood on her face had smeared into a gruesome camouflage, and when her lips curled back, her teeth were too white against it. “I know you now. Your voices, the way you move. I know your scents.” Her voice was chill, and even B’Kosan shivered as it caressed him in the growing shadows.
Hunt. Rishte’s satisfaction was savage in her mind. Sniff him out. Man-sweat, man-scent. The easy trail at night.
Her hands clenched like paws. “I give you free rein to run today, but follow me again, any of you, any Haruman; bring harm to me or mine, and I’ll tear your ligaments from your joints and use them to tie on my gauntlets.” She took another step forward, and Payne breathed a sharp warning. She could feel the hot pulse of the wolf in her hands, her neck, her chest. She could feel the bile rise in her throat. “Meet me on a trail, a road, a street in town, and I’ll rend your tendons from your flesh and make baskets of your bones.” Not one of the Harumen moved. “I know you now,” she snarled. She flexed her fingers as if they ended in claws. “A glimpse, a scent, and I’ll hunt you down like rast in the rotten timbers.”
The words hung on the edge of the cliff like their thin, threadbare safety.
“Wolfwalker,” Broziah breathed.
Her lips wrinkled back.
B’Kosan swallowed. Nori had been a target to him, someone to pursue and taunt, to keep on edge. Now she had turned, and her eyes weren’t those of the frightened rabbit or wary deer, but the wolf seeking challenge. He had to force himself to look away and go back to knotting the rope.
Wora kept his nocked arrow pointed at Nori, but his hands had tightened. Wolfwalker. There were legends about them. And Black Wolf had violet eyes.
Broziah watched Nori thoughtfully. She trembled, but it wasn’t with fear, he realized. Even though the wolf was in her eyes, it wasn’t the hunting rage that filled her. He rubbed at his aching hip and then stepped forward, toward the scout.
B’Kosan looked up and spat to the side. “Cross us and go with her, and we’ll hunt you down like a hare.”
The tracker shrugged and said over his shoulder. “She’s paying you a break-duty fee. Doesn’t really matter to me, but I’ve never been good on rappel.” He walked to the side and sat down on a rock to watch.
Nori dug into her last belt pouch, counted out the thin silver coins, and tossed the four to Wora.
The Haruman didn’t move. He murmured something, and one of his men reached out and picked the coins from the dirt. Behind them, B’Kosan and maSera began lowering the man with the bleeding calf. Forty long minutes later, after the others had gone down, B’Kosan lowered himself down. Even with a leather pad, the rope began to chafe on the edge of the cliff, but it held as B’Kosan rappelled down. Then only Wora was left. By this time, it was almost dusk. The Haruman looked at the wolfwalker. Then he slid his bolt back into his quiver and slung his bow on his shoulder, without taking his eyes off Nori. Quickly he gripped the rope.
She stopped him with a sharp gesture. “You could have taken my scout book,” she said. “You could have taken the belt from the Tamrani almost anytime. Why harass the cozar and Elder Connaught? Why go after any of the others?”
She had the sense that he was surprised by her question, but the light was failing, and he was between her and the west horizon. She couldn’t read his eyes. Then he smiled, and she knew.
She’d been right, but not right enough. It hadn’t been about the cozar, or Nori and Payne, or the scout book or Tamrani papers. Those were barely the opening moves, the ones played out by secondary actors in short scenes on the sides. And Wora wasn’t the only one chipping away at Ariye. He couldn’t be. He was too sure of himself, almost smug in his certainty that she would never touch him. He was a man taunting the badgerbear because, behind him, out of sight of the beast, were a dozen ready archers. She felt the edge of the wolf curl her lip and fought for control. There had to be more Harumen in Ariye, in other caravans, among other cozar wagons. More heading for Shockton and council.
“There are more of you moving up through the county.”
She didn’t realize she’d spoken out loud till Wora’s eyes shuttered. He didn’t answer, and she recognized the ease of his own self-control. Wakje had tried to teach her that—to shutter her eyes, give nothing away. Wora had done this long enough that he wasn’t even tempted.
“Why?” she asked again. Behind her, Payne and Hunter stared at the Haruman.
Wora shook his head slightly and smiled without humor as she tried to get him to answer.
“Is it to get to the elders?” she demanded.
He gripped the rope and prepared to step off the cliff.
She took a step forward. “Is it the council?” She could swear his knuckles tightened for an instant. Her parents, her uncle Gamon, even a cousin was on the council. “How many are dead?” she snarled.
He glanced at her. “Not enough. Not yet.” His smile grew broader. “You can’t guard your back every moment, maDione. We know you, too, Wolfwalker.”
Rishte bristled in her mind. She let her lips curl in a feral smile of her own. She said softly, “Woraconau.”
He stiffened almost imperceptibly as she used his full name. Then he turned and stepped off the cliff.
Nori stared after him for a moment. Then she dove for Kettre. She turned the woman gently, closing her eyes in relief when Kettre’s eyes opened blearily. “Nori-girl?”
“Aye, it’s me.”
“Hurts like hell.”
“Aye, it would.”
“You’re always . . . so agreeable.”
Nori choked out a laugh. Then Payne was beside her with the bandages from his belt pack, and a handful of broad leaves. “You’ll be alright,” Nori told her friend. “You’ve got a finger-long gash up here, but even on knock-headed humans, I’m a darned good hand with a needle.”
Kettre managed weakly, “No, Payne, don’t let her. She’ll put cross-stitch in my head.”
The Brother shook his head and continued packing on the leaves. Wakje stood, and Nori could see the blood on his wrist where a bolt had cut too close. When Hunter and Fentris began limping over to join them, Payne grinned without humor. “If they’d seen us as we are right now, they would have fought, not fled.”
Nori didn’t disagree.
He glanced at her expression, back at the Tamrani, then lowered his voice. “Which scout book
did you give them?”
Her hand went to her waist. She was trying not to throw up, and she pressed her hand hard against her stomach. She managed, “The one they expected, not mine.”
“But the hole in the cover?”
“Pierced with my knife, poked through with a branch, in case they’d seen the real book in camp. We were watched too many times.”
He nodded his approval. “And Condari’s papers?”
Hunter’s shirt billowed on her without the belt, and she discreetly tucked the few papers she had stolen more securely into her pants. She glanced over at the Tamrani. “I took two from the packet, but I don’t know how valuable they’ll be without the others.”
“He said he knew what was in them.”
“I meant for us,” she returned soberly. She broke off as the Tamrani approached. She glanced at the rim and her stomach roiled. Death, old death, and fresh death soon. She swallowed against the bile.
Hunter sat down heavily on a boulder. He was pressing a pad against his shoulder with one hand, and another against his leg. His face was still grey, and he didn’t even object when Wakje began bandaging him up. He grunted when the ex-raider pulled the knot tight across his leg, then tamped it twice to check it.
Nori let her brother and uncle finish up. She could still feel the wolf in her hands, and she moved to the edge of the ravine to look down into the blackening shadows.
Gingerly Hunter limped over to join her. His voice was expressionless. “We’ll have to go down after them.”
She kept her eyes on the ravine. “It would be you, alone, wounded and weak, against seven armed Harumen who have trained for decades to kill.”
“I need those papers, maDione.”
Her stomach twisted at the formal name. She wasn’t sure it was all nausea, and she clenched her fists. “You said you knew what was in them.”
“Yes, I know. But that was evidence.”
“For Ariye or Sidisport?”
His jaw tightened. “You have no idea what those papers are worth.” His green eyes were cold. “You took them from me deliberately. You traded them for your friend. The least you can do is help get them back, you and your godsdamned wolf.”
From the tree line, Rishte bristled.
“I have other duties,” Nori said softly. “And you cannot reach them now.”
“Cannot reach them?” His eyes narrowed sharply. “What do you mean?”
The smell of his blood was making her stomach whirl, and she had to make her voice hard to use it. “You, Fentris, and Kettre can hardly stand, let alone ride. Wakje is wounded, Payne and I are bashed up like a wagon wreck. Leanna, well, she’s had a fright that will last for a while, and she should never have been in this anyway. We’ve got barely a dozen arrows between us.” She swallowed stiffly against the nausea. “Your Harumen have only one badly wounded man who won’t last out the night, and so will hardly slow them down. The rest of them are ready for revenge, not just killing. On top of which, they’re heading into worlag hunting grounds. It’s suicide to go after them.”
“So you won’t help me?”
She smiled without humor. “Trust me. In this, I am helping you more than you know.”
He gestured with his chin toward the woods. “Like you did back there?”
When she kicked him near his wound. Her voice was low. “Kettre was dying.”
His expression hardened. “Do you have any idea how many could die in Sidisport, in your own county, because of those letters?”
“I would do it again.”
He stared at her. His voice was soft. “You owe me, Wolfwalker.”
“And you owed me the truth, Tamrani,” she shot back. “You knew there were Harumen in Ariye long before we were attacked, yet you never passed word to the county. You—and Fentris, too—knew the Harumen would try to affect the council, yet you never warned the elders. Instead, you let the cozar—and Payne, and Leanna—bear the brunt of your secrecy.” Her stomach roiled, and she pressed both fists against it.
His voice was quiet. “You saw that Haruman when you questioned him. This is bigger than the cozar, maDione. Bigger than your brother or your cousin, even you. If Ariye ever was wary of Sidisport, they should be doubly wary now.”
She could barely see him now, and she glared at his blurred image. “Why?”
“Because Sidisport is a worlag, biting what it can reach. Right now, it’s reaching into Ariye. I needed those letters, Black Wolf. I needed that proof for your councils.”
She just shook her head. She had proof enough in her scout book, proof in the code she’d taken from the raiders, proof in the two letters she’d stolen. Ariye didn’t need the Tamrani to tell them when threats were on its borders. Not when the Daughter of Dione stood up in council to speak to the Ariyen elders.
Hunter eyed her silently, then turned and stalked away. He was angry, but it was more with himself. He had known innately she would do whatever she had to for her family, for her friends. If it had been her brother under the knife, she probably would have sacrificed Hunter himself to keep Payne alive. He should have guessed she would use him, as he had been trying to use her. It made him pause at the edge of the trees and look back. She was standing tautly, her fists clenched, staring down at the shadows. He almost turned to go back, but the Harumen’s tracker moved over to look down over the rim beside her.
Broziah had moved quietly, and his voice was as mild. “You were lucky.”
She swallowed her nausea. “Aye.”
“They won’t get far tonight.”
“They’ll camp at the base of the cliff, then try to make their way south tomorrow.”
“You’re not worried that they’ll circle around and come back up to hunt you?”
Her voice was low. “There are swamps at the lower ends of the canyons, and it will rain tonight and tomorrow. The swamps will fill, and they’ll be trapped. It will take at least two days to get through those waters, maybe more if it rains hard enough on the ridges.” She swallowed hard. “Once they make it past the swamps, it will still take one more day to reach the lower trail. Another day to get to a town. By then it will be too late.”
Broziah didn’t understand what she meant. “They still know where you are heading. They can send word ahead to Shockton.”
“No. Not them.” She rubbed her wrists as if she could soothe the fire that seemed to burn in her own veins. Her mind was beginning to whirl like her stomach. There was death below, but she hadn’t even considered any other way. Trial block or trial bolt, that’s what Randonnens said, and Nori, she was Randonnen. She forced her voice to be steady. “They won’t make it out of the forest.”
He gave her a sharp look. “You swore you would let them go.”
She stared out at the deepening twilight. “It’s not me that will be the death of them. But it’s me who sent them there.”
The tracker eyed her warily. “What is down there, Wolfwalker? Worlags, bihwadi?”
“Death,” she said harshly. “Fire and death. They are already wading through it.”
She forced herself back from the cliff. Rishte was growling in her head, clawing at the slitted eyes. Yellow snapped back at the grey. Her stomach turned. She clenched her fists harder as if that small pain could cut through them both, and the flesh split beneath her nails. Blood began to trickle. She could smell the trees, she could feel the boulders that stubbed her feet, but her human eyes were blind. Nausea rose and choked her. She couldn’t see the edge of the cliff anymore. She didn’t know her spine stiffened as the slitted gaze cut into her skull. She had never fought back against the creature that claimed her with mother debt, but this time she screamed in her mind. Damn you, she cried out silently. They were not harming us at that moment. Would it have made us any less their kill?
(Old/new) debt, death-debt and fire . . .
She stumbled and went to her knees, and began vomiting into the moss. A moment later, a strong arm slipped around her body and held her as she retched. Rishte snarled a
t the Tamrani, but Hunter ignored the wolf. Instead, his other hand pulled her bloody hair back from her face and tucked it behind her ear. He was murmuring something, but she could hear only the tone of his voice. Later, when Payne asked what he’d said, she could only shake her head. All she knew was that Rishte had accepted him. It was the only explanation for the sense of his voice in her head.
Epilogue
“You’ve already started your Journey, girl.
You just don’t know it yet.”
—Shendren, in Tracking the Moons, by Vergi Vendo
Nori hovered over the village healer like a hungry boy over dinner. “Watch that spot there.” She pointed to the stitches on Kettre’s scalp. “It was the deeper part of the gash.”
The healer hid a sigh. “If you’d step back just a bit, Black Wolf, out of the light?”
“Of course.” She did so, by moving to the healer’s other shoulder. It was late, and they were lucky the tiny village had a healer to wake. She moved the lantern to bring the light closer.
“How does it look?” Kettre asked the healer. “Will I have to part my hair on the side from now on?”
“Hmm.” The grey-haired woman dabbed at the hair that had become clotted into the wound. “It will scar, but lightly. You did a good job,” she said absently to Nori. “Not but what I’d expect from the Daughter of Dione.”
Nori shrugged and pointed. “There was a lot of dirt in there. You might want to irrigate that before putting the dressing back on.”
The healer said mildly, “Aye, I thought the same.” The woman reached for the syringe. Nori already had it and handed it across. Kettre almost swatted Nori’s hand away when the wolfwalker pointed again. “There, and there.”
The healer bit back an acid comment. Black Wolf had her first bar in healing, and so was essentially an intern, someone to be tolerated and taught as well as possible. The healer understood Nori’s worry for her friend, but if the girl didn’t step back or go tend some farmer’s dnu . . .
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