Before he could suggest anything, one of his servants reappeared and whispered something into his ear. His face became serious. His servant made to leave, but Kayakun called him back. “Bring food for our guests.” The servant bowed and left.
Kumul’s stomach growled at the mention of food. He looked apologetically at their host. “I have not eaten properly for a long time. None of us have.”
“That will be taken care of,” Kayakun assured him. “But now something even more important than food has come up. My servant reports that Rendle and his company are moving out, and they heard from some of the merchants that his men were talking about heading north, to Haxus.” He turned to Gudon. “As soon as they have left, you must go tonight, in case Rendle changes his mind.”
Rendle followed his men out of the sooq. At the first rise he halted with Eder and Prado and looked back. “How sure are you that the boy you saw was Prince Lynan?” he asked Prado.
“Your five men never returned. That should answer your question.”
“One day I will come back to this place,” Rendle said. “I will come back with a thousand troops and raze it to the ground.”
Prado sneered. “You really think the Chetts will let you live that long?”
Rendle ignored him.
“I had best go,” Eder suggested.
“You have your men ready?”
“Yes, exactly as you instructed. Twenty-five riders.”
“When you have finished your business, come straight to Kolbee.”
Eder nodded and left.
“All you need now is for Lynan and his friends to do exactly as you want,” Prado said mockingly.
Rendle caught Prado’s gaze and held it until the other flinched and looked away. “Lynan will flee the sooq. Whatever friends he has left know there is no true safety for him down there. Every day Lynan stays increases his chances of being assassinated, or stolen away again. Only out there on the Oceans of Grass will he truly be safe.” Rendle smiled tightly. “At least, that is what they think, and that mistake will be their undoing.”
Chapter 27
Lynan felt whole for the first time since being taken by Jes Prado. Around him were his friends, including Gudon. They were all fed, all mounted on fresh horses—six mares, all sisters—and all equipped with saddle packs filled with food and water, as well as a felt gorytos for Gudon, holding a reflex bow and a quiver of arrows. Lynan had his sword back, carried all the way to the Strangers’ Sooq for him by Ager. Well, not his sword, he reminded himself, remembering how he had won it in the encounter at the ford with Kumul, but a good weapon at least. And best of all he was rid of his clothes, worn thin and encrusted with grime, dirt, blood, and sweat. Kayakun had dressed them all in Chett garb, with linen trousers and shirts, heavy ponchos and wide-brimmed sun hats made from boiled leather. The only garment he had kept, stored in one of his saddlebags, was the green coat given him by the forester Roheth and carried all this way by Ager. Lynan had to admit they must have looked a strange sight getting ready to ride out of the Strangers Sooq in the middle of the night, with Kumul’s poncho barely covering his shoulders and Ager’s looking as lopsided as a drooping flower.
The moon overhead was nearly full and cast enough light to read by, so when Lynan took Kayakun’s hand and thanked him for all his help, he could easily see the lines of concern creasing the Chett’s face. Kayakun gave the full bow the Chetts seemed so fond of. “Travel well, your Majesty.”
Kayakun said brief farewells to the rest of the group, lingering only with Gudon, who leaned over his saddle so they could talk privately.
When they were finished, Gudon turned in his saddle to face the others. “We go now, my friends. Quickly as we can for the first hour. The farther away we are from the sooq, the safer we will be.” He waved to Kayakun and spurred his horse to a trot, the others following close behind.
As they left the sooq, Gudon picked up the pace. The horses fell into a ground-eating canter, their manes fluttering like pennants.
Lynan felt he was entering a dream world. If the Oceans of Grass had captured his imagination under the light of the sun, under the light of the moon they captured his soul. It no longer seemed like a vast plain covered in grass, but a real ocean with real waves. It seemed to him they rode godlike across water, and underneath he sensed the heartbeats of great creatures, solitary and somnolent, never disturbed by the goings-on of lesser creatures. Above him, the dark sky seemed like smoked glass embedded with glittering gems. Like the ocean, the plains had surges and troughs. Gentle hills rose and disappeared as they rode by.
At last, Gudon reined back the pace and the mares happily continued at a quick walk. As both riders and mounts recaptured their breath, Lynan started to hear the sounds of the plain. There were so many crickets chirruping that the sound became a single melody; above them, he could hear the occasional hooting of an owl and the flapping, skittering wings of bats. And then the call of a kestrel. For a moment that seemed perfectly normal. Kestrels flew above all the world’s oceans.
He pulled up his horse. For a moment the others rode on, unaware he had stopped; when they noticed he was no longer with them, they halted.
“What is it?” Gudon called back to Lynan.
Lynan motioned for them all to keep silent.
And there it was again. The call of a kestrel. He had not imagined it.
“I have never heard that sound before,” Gudon said. Using his left leg to support his weight, he stood in the stirrups to survey the sky and land around them.
“And you never will away from the sea,” Jenrosa added.
Lynan caught up with them. “Rendle?” he asked.
Gudon ignored the question and kneed his horse closer to Jenrosa. “Lynan tells me you are a magicker.”
“A student magicker.”
He put his hand in one of his saddlebags and retrieved what looked like slivers of diamond. “Can you cast?”
“I know the theory,” Jenrosa said warily.
He gave the slivers to Jenrosa. “These will help, but hurry. We have not much time.”
The urgency in his voice discouraged any more questions. She held up her palm to see better what Gudon had given her. Silvery translucent wafers shone softly with moonlight. She dredged from her memory the incantation for casting; it was one of the more ludicrous series of phrases, but she closed her hand around the wafers, shut her eyes, and recited the lines. Her hand tingled, but there was no finish, that relief that flooded through her when a magic was performed properly. She breathed deeply and tried again, but with no more success. She opened her eyes and found Gudon staring straight into them.
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Wait,” he ordered. He drew his short, bone knife from its sleeve behind his neck and used it to cut a long line in the palm of his hand. He placed his hand over her fist. “Now, try again.”
Jenrosa nodded, closed her eyes and started the incantation a third time. She felt the Chett’s warm blood creep over her fingers. As she recited the words they seemed to vibrate in her mind, grow in size. She opened her mouth and the words poured out like a river of water. She felt the wafers in her hand writhe and move, and would have let them go if Gudon’s own hand was not wrapped tightly around hers.
For the others, watching, nothing at all seemed to happen at first, but as the incantation grew in power and Jenrosa’s voice grew stronger, the air above her seemed to distort and waver. For an instant, Lynan thought he saw the shape of a huge wolf twist in the sky, but then the image was gone as quickly as it had formed and he convinced himself it was his imagination.
Jenrosa finished, the last word almost a shout, and a wave of exultation and exhaustion washed through her. She slumped in the saddle. Gudon held her up and forced open her palm. The wafers were all gone.