By dawn they had reached the northwest foot of Ebrius Ridge and saw spread out before them the farmlands of Chandra. Fields covered the land to the far horizon in a patchwork quilt of rich greens. Here and there, meandering streams, isolated woods, and small villages broke up the pattern, and over it all shone the light from a strong summer sun.
It was mid-morning before Jenrosa made any sound at all, and then it was only a soft murmur. Her eyelids fluttered restlessly but remained closed.
“I think her color’s returning,” Lynan observed hopefully. “She’s definitely looking better.”
“I don’t know how you can tell with all those freckles, but I’d look better, too, if someone had just carried me for ten leagues,” Kumul said dryly.
They were following a narrow dirt track that led between fields of growing crops. Ager was scouting ahead, keeping his single eye out for any strangers or soldiers, as well as a safe site for their next break. Whoever had made the trail had thoughtfully planted tall wideoaks along it to provide shade, and the air was filled with the sound of singing birds and calling crickets.
“On a day like this, it’s hard to believe that anyone would want to kill us,” Lynan said sadly. “In fact, it’s hard to believe that anyone in the world is in trouble.”
“Don’t let your imagination get carried away, your Highness. You’d bleed just as red and die just as easily on a day like this as you would on any other. If you need reminding, look behind you and think how Jenrosa’s probably feeling.”
“Do you think she can hear us?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“She is looking better, you know.”
Kumul only grunted. Ager appeared up ahead at the top of a small rise. He was running toward them in his rolling crookback stoop. When he reached them, he was out of breath and red from exertion. “There’s a troop of mercenaries up ahead. They’re still a league from here, but we haven’t much time. There’s a stream over this rise. We can hide among the vegetation along its banks.”
Ager grabbed the other end of the stretcher and they moved as quickly as possible, Lynan telling his weary muscles to hold out for a while longer. By the time they reached the stream, a narrow ribbon of cool clear water, they were panting heavily and their hearts were beating like drums on a racing galley.
The trail crossed the stream at a narrow ford and continued on the other side of the bank, ascending gently to another rise. On either side of the stream there grew drooping spear trees and busy wideoaks. The companions made their way downstream into the thickest part of the gallery, carefully maneuvering their burden. They had barely enough time to hide themselves behind branches and two fallen rotting trunks before the troop arrived, ten riders, their fine gear jingling as the horses trotted down to the ford. Lynan cursed silently when they stopped at the stream to let their horses drink. The two nearest them were complaining about being taken from their billets at a local village.
“I was getting on fine with that widow who owns the farm by the dairy,” one said. “She needs a good man to help her run the place. Another few weeks and I’d have been cashing in to take up life on the land.”
“I didn’t know you were so keen on dirt and weeds,” said the other.
“Better than war and death.”
“What war? Grenda Lear ain’t been at war for fifteen years or more.”
“I got ears. I heard the sergeant talking to the messenger who came yesterday and Haxus was mentioned often enough. Besides, we’ve got a new king, remember? There’s bound to be trouble now that Usharna’s dead. All the kingdom’s enemies were terrified of her.”
“Berayma will teach them to be terrified all over again, mark me.”
“Aye, and that’s my point—”
“All right, keep the chatter down,” said an authoritative voice from the other side of the ford.
So rapt had he been in the troopers’ conversation that Lynan had completely forgotten about his charge, and he started when Jenrosa let out a low moan of pain. He quickly clamped a hand over her mouth, making sure he left her nose free to breathe, but it was too late. The nearest trooper looked alertly in their direction, then turned to his friend.
“Did you hear something?” he asked.
“No,” the other said, not really interested. He had pulled down his breeches to piss on the bank.
“I said to keep the chatter down!” complained their leader.
“But I heard something, Sergeant!”
“Probably a vixen with cubs,” the sergeant replied gruffly. “And we haven’t time to dawdle. We’re expected in Kendra by nightfall.”
The trooper’s face drooped sourly, and he mounted his horse. “I’m sure it wasn’t a fox.”
His friend pulled up his breeches, mounted and drew along side him. “Perhaps two young lovers, eh? Not everyone’s in a hurry. Just think about your widow and the trail ahead. No point in pissing off the sergeant.”
By now their fellows had already left the stream and the two friends had to spur their horses to catch up.
Lynan was about to move when Ager grabbed him by the arm. “Wait,” he whispered. “The talkative one may double back for another look-see.” A few minutes later, when no one had reappeared, Ager released his grip and nodded. “All right, it looks like we’re safe.”
Lynan took his hand from Jenrosa’s mouth; she mumbled some words, but he could not make them out.
“She’s talking,” he said excitedly.
“She nearly talked us into a grave,” Kumul said tartly.
“If what those troopers was talking about is true and not rumor,” Ager said, “we won’t be able to take the most direct route to the Oceans of Grass. The highways and rivers will be busy with soldiers and supplies pouring into major cities.”
“But there was no talk of war after my mother’s death,” Lynan said, puzzled.
“More likely Areava’s just being cautious,” Kumul said. “She should expect some trouble on her borders, especially with Haxus to the north. So she would call in the nearest soldiers and send them out by sea.”
“Or, just as likely,” Ager added, “start a war to divert attention from the goings-on in Kendra. Three rulers in as many weeks is bound to cause a stir with more than the kingdom’s enemies.”
“Then what route do we take?” Lynan asked.
“That’s going to take some thought,” Ager admitted. “For the moment, I suggest we find a place where Jenrosa and Kumul can recover. We can’t keep on like this, two of us struggling with a stretcher. We’ll finally get caught out in the open. We need a new plan and time to think it through.”
“But where?”
Ager looked around him. “This is as good a place as any. We have fresh water and there’s fish in the stream. The trees will provide cover and shade, and we can keep an eye on troop movements from here.”
Lynan nodded. “All right. I can’t think of anything better.”
Kumul pointed upstream. “We’d better move first. We’re too close to the ford, and we can keep an eye on it just as easily from another hundred paces farther upstream and be in less danger of discovery ourselves.”
They fashioned rough tethers out of green twigs from a spear tree, and even rougher pegs out of wideoak, using them to construct a reasonably waterproof shelter by gathering together branches and pinning their ends to the ground. By using twine unthreaded from his cloak and a thorn from a nearby whip tree, Ager made a clumsy but nonetheless usable fishing line. They risked a fire that afternoon, cooking Ager’s whole catch of small fish in one go. The next day, Lynan and Ager took turns to reconnoiter the area while the other attended Jenrosa. Lynan had dressed the wound on her scalp as best he could and kept it clean, and was relieved when no infection set in. At first, she would eat nothing, drink only what was dribbled between her lips, and made hardly a sound. On three occasions she mumbled more words, but still they made no sense. Around noon, she regained consciousness, to everyone else’s great relief. They made a fuss over her, offering her water and a little fish and some berries Ager had found on one of his explorations; she gratefully ate what she could but fell asleep soon after. Her color was almost normal, however, and Lynan was sure she would be up and ready to move within a few days.