Kumul shrugged. “We reach Daavis and make inquiries there about the barge he was taken on. If it did not stop there, then we follow the Barda upriver until we discover some clue to his whereabouts.”
“What if they backtrack?”
“There is nothing we can do about it,” Kumul said gruffly. “We do what we can.”
“I think Prado was in too much of a hurry to get to his destination to try anything so clever,” Ager said. “My bet is he’s heading for Daavis, either to meet someone or as a staging post for a ride north into Hume.”
“This just gets stranger and stranger,” Jenrosa said. “They are taking Lynan farther away from anyone who cares if he is alive or dead.”
“Queen Charion would probably appreciate having him,” Ager said, thinking aloud. “If she turned him over to Areava, she could not help but gain leverage in the court in her trade disputes with Chandra.”
“Then all is lost,” Jenrosa said gloomily. “They will get to Daavis before us, and that is Charion’s capital.”
Kumul looked up suddenly, and said carefully: “Or Prado is taking him to Haxus.”
“To King Salokan?” Ager looked dumbfounded. “What would Salokan do with the son of his worst enemy?”
“Slay him!” Jenrosa said, horrified.
Kumul shook his head. “No. Ager said it before, and I should have seen it then. Lynan may not be simply a hostage, but a symbol.”
“What are you talking about?” Jenrosa asked.
“King Salokan’s no fool, and he has his spies in Kendra, as we do in his court at Kolbee, so will know what has happened over the last few weeks. He will use Lynan as a weapon against Grenda Lear, set him up as a pretender and invade the kingdom. Many will flock to Salokan’s banner then, or at least offer only halfhearted resistance.”
“That is not so different from what we intended,” Ager said.
“Of course it is different!” Kumul said vehemently. “Our intentions were to bring the kingdom to its senses, to see Lynan reinstated and Berayma’s real murderers caught and punished. Salokan wishes the kingdom harm, and would not hesitate to use Lynan to bring it about. He cares nothing for what is right, or for the justice in this matter. We do!”
Jenrosa was taken aback by Kumul’s fierceness, and could not help wondering if he had been speaking as much in his own defense as that of Lynan’s cause, and in turn it made her think about the conflict going on inside his heart. Kumul was—still was, in his mind, she was sure—Constable of Grenda Lear, and it was his duty to put things right in the kingdom. She wished she could have some of his nobility of purpose, but for her the goals were more immediate: to rescue Lynan. It occurred to her then that she and Kumul had more in common than she would have thought possible. She studied the giant more carefully, and for a moment thought she could see the man beneath the constable’s livery and responsibilities. His regard for Lynan was due more than his loyalty to the youth or to the memory of the general. He was more like a father to Lynan than a guardian, and he was fighting for his son’s life That insight made her understand at last how she regarded Lynan. He seemed like a brother to her, and not a lover. Did that make Kumul her father, then? The thought made her smile. No, not a father. Something more perhaps, something she could not yet describe nor properly give voice to. She blushed involuntarily and turned her gaze out over the river. These were the stirring of feelings she did not ever properly understand herself.
Ager lay down on the deck and shaded his eyes from the sun. “Well, there’s no point in worrying about what to do next until we reach Daavis. I’m going to get some sleep.”
Kumul grunted, and looked in no mood to sleep. Jenrosa left them to stand at the stern and looked down into the river’s brown water. For a moment she wished she was a fish down there, gliding along in life without a care in the world.
No you don’t, she told herself. For the first time ever you’re actually starting to enjoy your life.
The thought made her smile for the second time.
Chapter 23
Until they reached the base of the wooded crest, both Lynan and Gudon rode on the horse, but Lynan dismounted as the slope increased to reduce the animal’s load and to guide it over jutting roots. Gudon hung on as best he could, not once complaining about his badly wounded leg. About midday, they came across a small stream, and Lynan called a halt. He eased Gudon off the saddle and made him comfortable before applying more of the Chett’s haethu.
“I should bandage it,” Lynan told him.
Gudon shook his head. “It has stopped bleeding. Truth, air is the best thing for it.”
“It will go bad.”
Gudon held up the bottle of haethu. “Not with this on it, little master.” He offered the bottle to Lynan. “Put some on your wound. It will heal more quickly.”
Lynan dabbed some on experimentally. The wound and the tips of his fingers became numb almost instantly. He handed the bottle back with thanks.
“Will you be all right by yourself? I have to find us something to eat.”
“We should have taken some of the dead jaizru with us. They make a good stew.”
Lynan’s face wrinkled in disgust. “After what happened this morning, I could never eat one.”
“But they were prepared to eat you; it is only just to eat them in turn.”
Lynan did not have to search far for food. He found berries and nuts and a colony of mushrooms, and on his way back discovered the white flowers of honey tubes. The pair ate quickly, then drank their fill from the stream.
“This crest is near the middle of the Ufero Mountains,” Gudon told Lynan. “I came east this way many, many years ago. If we continue northwest, we will stay under cover and find plenty of streams and food until we get to the other side of the range.”
“And then what?”
“From there, you must decide what to do next. I must go to the Oceans of Grass. It is time for me to go back to my people. But you can head north to Haxus or back south, if you wish.”
“I was taken from friends. They will be looking for me.”
“Where were you headed?”
“The Oceans of Grass.”
Gudon looked surprised. “It is rare for people from the south to go there.”
“We had our reasons,” Lynan said darkly.
“I do not doubt it.” Gudon slapped Lynan’s shoulder. “Then we must go on together. Your friends will come and look for you there.”
“Not if they think I’m dead.”
“If they truly are your friends, they will know you are still alive, little master.”
“Please, Gudon, stop calling me that. I am not your master.”
Before Lynan could react, Gudon reached out and put his hand under Lynan’s shirt and brought out the Key of Union. “Forgive me, but you are wrong.”
Lynan grabbed it back and hid it again. “How did you know… ?”
“When the beneficent master brought you aboard my barge, the Key was hanging loose from your neck. I recognized it, of course. What Chett wouldn’t? It is the symbol of your family’s rule over us. I must have looked too hard, for Prado struck me down.”
Lynan retreated from Gudon. “What will you do about it?” he asked suspiciously.
“What I am doing now. Helping you get to safety.”
Lynan swallowed. “I’m sorry. I have learned to trust very few.”
“Then if you learn to trust me, I will count it as an honor… your Majesty.”
Lynan shook his head. “No. I am not king. My sister, Areava, rules in Kendra.”
“So we on the river had heard,” Gudon said carefully. “I will not apologize for calling you what I did, but best I take you to my people. There are those there who will grant you refuge, and perhaps more.”
“More?” Lynan asked, his heart skipping a beat.
“I cannot say. You must go and see for yourself.”