The Hand felt another tug at his sleeve.
“Sir Hugh,” said Bane, pointing, “who’s that?” Startled, the Hand glanced around. “There’s no one there, Your Highness.”
“Yes, there is,” said the child. “Don’t you see him? It’s a Kir monk.” Hugh halted and stared at the boy.
“It’s all right if you don’t see him,” added Bane, shifting his pack to lie more comfortably across his small shoulders. “I see lots of things other people don’t. But I’ve never seen a Kir monk walk with anyone before. Why is he with you?”
“Let me carry it, Your Highness.” Hugh took the pack from the prince and, propelling the child in front of him with a firm grip of his hand, resumed walking.
Damn Trian! The blasted wizard must have let something else slip. The kid had picked up on it and now his imagination was running wild. He might even guess the truth. Well, there was nothing to be done about it now. It only made the assassin’s job that much more difficult—and therefore that much more expensive.
The two spent what was left of the night in a water harvester’s warming shed. The sky was lightening; Hugh could see the faint glimmer of the firmament that presaged dawn. The edges of the Lords of Night glistened a fiery red. Now he could determine the direction in which they were moving and could at last orient himself. Inspecting the contents of his pack before leaving the monastery, he’d ascertained that he had all the proper navigational equipment—his own having been taken from him in Yreni prison. He removed a small leather-bound book and silver baton topped by a quartz sphere. The baton had a spike on the end and Hugh shoved it into the ground.
All such sextants are of elven make—humans possessing no mechanical magic skills. This one was practically new and he guessed it was a trophy of war. Hugh gave the baton a tap with his finger and the sphere rose into the air, much to the delight of Bane, who was watching in wide-eyed fascination. Scarcity of water in the Mid Realm means that much of it must be harvested from plant life. Water farmers raise such water-producing plants; water harvesters go foraging for the liquid.
“What’s it doing?” he demanded.
“Look through it,” Hugh offered.
The prince hesitantly placed his eye level with the sphere. “I just see a bunch of numbers,” he said, disappointed.
“That’s what you’re supposed to see.” Hugh made a mental note of the first number, turned a ring at the bottom of the baton, read off the second, and finally a third. Then he began flipping pages in the book.
“What are you looking for?” Bane squatted down on his haunches to peer over Hugh’s arm.
“Those numbers you saw are the position of the Lords of Night, the five Ladies of Light, and Solarus, all in relation to each other. I find the numbers in this book, match them with the time of year, which tells me where the islands are located at this particular moment, and it should tell me within a few menkas where we are.”
“What funny writing!” Bane turned his head nearly upside-down to see. “What is it?”
“It’s elvish. Their navigators were the ones who figured all this out and came up with the magical device that takes the readings.”
The boy frowned. “Why didn’t we use something like that when we flew on the dragon?”
“Because dragons know instinctively where they are. No one’s sure how, but they use all their senses—sight, hearing, smell, touch—plus some we probably don’t even know exist to guide them. Elf magic won’t work on dragons, so they had to build dragonships and they had to make things like this to tell them where they were. That’s why”—Hugh grinned—“elves consider us barbarians.”
“Well, where are we? Do you know?”
“I know,” said Hugh. “And now it’s time, Your Highness, for a nap.” They were on Pitrin’s Exile, probably about 123 menkas backtrack[8] from Winsher. Hugh felt more relaxed, once this was in his mind. It had been unsettling, not being able to tell up from down, so to speak. Now he knew and he could rest. It wouldn’t be full light for another three hours. Rubbing his eyes, yawning, and stretching, like a man who has traveled far and is bone-tired, Hugh—shoulders slumped and feet dragging—marched the prince into the shed. Seeming half-asleep, the assassin gave the door a push to close it. It didn’t shut all the way, but he was, apparently, too tired to notice. Bane took a blanket from his pack, spread it, and lay down. Hugh did the same, shutting his eyes. When he heard the child’s breathing fall into a slow and steady rhythm, he swiftly twisted, catlike, to his feet and crept silently across the floor of the shed.
The prince was already fast asleep. Hugh looked at him closely, but the boy did not appear to be shamming. Curled up in a ball, lying on top of his blanket, he would freeze in the chill predawn air.
Fishing another blanket out of his pack, Hugh tossed it over the kid, then moved silently back to the opposite side of the shed, the side near the door. He slipped off his tall boots and laid them on the floor, carefully arranging them so that they were turned sideways, one resting on top of the other. He dragged his pack over and laid it just above his boots. Removing the fur cloak, he wrapped it in a ball and placed it next to the pack. A blanket, spread over the cape and pack, left the soles of the boots showing. Anyone looking in from the doorway would see the feet of a blanket-wrapped man fast asleep.
Satisfied, Hugh drew his dagger from his boot and squatted down in a dark corner of the shed. Eyes on the door, he waited.
Half an hour passed. The shadow was giving Hugh ample time to fall into deep sleep.
The Hand waited patiently. It wouldn’t be too long now. Day had dawned fully. The sun was shining. The man must fear they would waken and start on their way again. The assassin watched the thin ribbon of gray light streaming in through the partially shut door. When that ribbon began to widen, Hugh’s hand tightened its grip on the dagger.
Slowly, silently, the door swung open.
A head thrust inside. The man looked long and carefully at the supposedly slumbering figure of Hugh beneath the blanket, then turned the same careful scrutiny to the boy. Hugh held his breath. Apparently satisfied, the man entered the shed.
Hugh expected the man to be armed and to immediately attack the dummy of himself. The assassin was disconcerted to see that the man carried no weapon in his hand and was padding soft-footed over to the boy. It was just to be a rescue, then.
Hugh leapt, wrapped an arm around the man’s neck, and put the dagger to his throat.
“Who sent you? Tell me the truth and I’ll reward you with a quick death.” The body in Hugh’s grasp went limp and the assassin saw, in astonishment, that the man had fainted.
15
“Not exactly the sort of person I’d send out on a mission to rescue my son from the hands of an assassin,” muttered Hugh, stretching out the comatose man on the floor of the shed. “But then, maybe the queen’s having trouble finding bold knights these days. Unless he’s shamming.”
The man’s age was indeterminable. The face appeared careworn and haggard. He was bald on the top of his head; wispy gray hair hung in a long fringe around the sides. But his cheeks were smooth, and the wrinkles around the mouth came from worry, not age. Tall and gangly, he appeared to have been put together by someone who had run out of the correct parts and been forced to substitute. His feet and hands were too big; his head, with its delicate, sensitive features, seemed too small.
Kneeling beside the man, Hugh lifted a finger and bent it back until it almost touched the wrist. The pain was excruciating, and a person feigning unconsciousness would invariably betray himself. The man didn’t even twitch. Hugh gave him a sound smack on the cheek to bring him around, and was about to add another when he heard the boy coming up to his side.
8
Backtrack, trackward, kiratrack, and kanatrack are terms used in the isles to indicate direction. Track refers to the Mean Cluster Track or the path which the cluster takes in its orbit through the sky. To move trackward is to travel in the same direction; backtrack, in the direction precisely opposite. Kiratrack and kanatrack refer to moving at right angles to the track.