"I say, Tip, I don't know what's gotten into you, raging at Gara as you did. I mean-"
Tip threw up a hand. "You're right, Beau. I was over the line, but something in me snapped. I mean, the thought of maggot-folk going unpunished, well…"
"I know, Tip. I know. With what they did to Rynna and Wink and the others… -But listen, are we the ones, or rather, are you the one, to set the scales to right? I mean, is it yours to gain vengeance for all?"
"Perhaps not for all, Beau, but for Rynna, yes: I am the one who will make them pay."
"Well then, tell me this, bucco: just how many will you have to kill before the balance is struck?"
A stricken looked came over Tipperton's features, and Beau turned and walked onward, saying, "Just as I thought."
"I was in the council, Tip, because Ruar said that healers would need to ride with the vanguard, and Melor was chosen to do so, and he chose me in turn. And we joined in on the planning."
"Oh, Beau, by riding in the vanguard, you'll be in the thick of things. I should think you'd be much safer if you stuck with the wagons instea-"
"And I suppose you aren't in any danger?" interrupted Beau. "I mean, out there nearly all alone, just you and Vail, out where the Rucks and such can spring ambushes or run you down or what have you. At least I'll have an army surrounding me."
"Oh, Beau, let's not argue. I mean, we'll both be in the thick of it shortly. Just promise me two things: first is for you to keep safe, and second, if I should not make it through, find me and take the coin and deliver it to Agron, eh?"
"Oh, my, don't say that, Tip. I mean, we'll both make it through."
They curried in silence a moment longer, combs scritch-ing through pony hair, then Beau added, "'But if I shouldn 't make it through, promise me you'll deliver the coin in the end. I mean, that's what we set out to do, and surely if we don't, well then, the whole trip is wasted."
Tip nodded, then held out a little finger and said, "I promise."
Beau hooked his own little finger through Tip's and said, "I promise, too."
In that moment up and down the line mess triangles rang. Tip put away the curry combs while Beau packed the nosebags, and then they snatched up their kits and set off for the nearest cook wagon, where a short line of big men shuffled forward, tin plates and cups and spoons in hand.
Beau sniffed the air, then turned to Tip. "Ah, beans and biscuits: my favorite."
Three days later in the afternoon light, Tipperton crept toward the southern marge of the thicket, Lyra trailing after, and even with her keen Elven hearing she could detect but a faint rustle as the buccan moved ahead, sounding no more than a minor stir of a handful of leaves in a gentle zephyr, if that. Finally he paused, and Lyra came up alongside him.
Out from the screen of the copse they peered and down a gentle slope, and finally Tipperton pointed. In the near distance and partly concealed in the shadows of an outcropping lounged a Rucken lookout.
"Dost thou see the signal horn?" breathed Lyra.
"From here I can't tell." Tip gestured leftward. "But if we move…"
Up and to the left they crept, and finally Tipperton stopped again.
"See the baldric?" asked Lyra. "Over his left shoulder."
Tipperton saw the leather strap, and now at the Ruck's hip he could see- "Yes, he has a horn."
"As expected," said Lyra.
Beyond the warder and far downslope, Tip could see the town of Braeton, or what remained of the town. And there, too, he could see a great stir of movement as Foul Folk yet looted and razed. But even though the destruction was great, they had not put the town to torch.
The two remained silent and motionless for long moments, and then Tip looked at the sentry once more and murmured, "It's as you and Elon said: he stands where he has good view of the road to the west as well as the town below."
Lyra nodded, then whispered, "Aye, 'tis the highest of the two high sentries along this western slope. There are two others who stand watch on the eastern approach, though they are of no moment."
"Where is the sentry Vail and Elon go after?"
Lyra pointed. "Downslope and left. There by the crag."
Tip peered long. At last he saw the lower sentry shift about. "And these are the two who can best see westward?"
"Aye."
They watched a moment more, then Lyra added, " 'Tis as we said in counciclass="underline" judging by placement of the sentries- these two as well as the others-they do not expect a force to emerge from north within the darda and advance south through these hills, for they fear those woods and would not come that way themselves. Instead they believe if any come from the darda it will be eastward along the road."
"Ah, I see. And so this warder and the one below scan the commonplace approach."
"Aye," replied Lyra, "as do the sentries on the far side of town; they watch the road yon as well. Yet watching the road or not, the sentry below and his comrade just beyond will alert the others if we do nought but watch them watching, for after sunset the vanguard will arrive, and they will not come creeping on catspaws as did we, but on the hammer of iron-shod hooves instead."
They waited moments more, and the sun crept down and down, to finally slide below the horizon.
Twilight stole over the land 'neath a waxing half-moon.
Tip glanced at Lyra.
"Aye. 'tis time," she said. "Elon and Vail are surely in position now and await our signal." She set an arrow to her string, and hastily Tip did the same. "We will loose together," she murmured, "for 'tis unlikely both shall miss."
Tip nodded.
"Thou shalt count off, and we loose on three," Lyra added.
Again Tip nodded, and Lyra drew and aimed, Tip doing likewise.
And of a sudden he realized that he was to slay an unsuspecting foe -whereas before it had been kill or be killed -shoot him in the back -yet the Ruck below Come on, bucco, you can do this.
– didn't know.
Shakily Tipperton lowered his bow.
Lyra looked at him inquiringly, then lowered her own bow.
"He doesn't even know we are here," hissed Tip.
Lyra nodded and then whispered, "Think of all who have been slain by his ilk. Too, think of the folk in Brae-ton, for surely they lie dead. Think as well on those slain at Stede and Annory and at Caer Lindor betrayed: Baeron, Elves, Waerlinga, thine own Rynna and-"
Tipperton threw out a hand to stop her words, an echo of his own said but three days past. He gritted his teeth and raised his bow once again, as did Lyra after.
Inhale full, exhale half, aim…
"One… two… three-"
Th-thnn strummed two bowstrings, ssss… two arrows whispered through the air to th-thnk! into the Rucken ward, cruel iron points punching in through back and out through chest, and with a grunt he toppled forward to lie in a sodden heap alongside the outcropping.
"Come now," said Lyra. "We must take him from that place and conceal the evidence of his slaying."
"But-"
"Nay, Tipperton. No buts, for I need the garments. Too, others may come to relieve him, and we would not have them sound an alarm."
And so, staying low, they scurried down the hill in the twilight and took up the slain warder, the Ruck's eyes wide in surprise, yet seeming to stare accusingly at Tipperton as he carried the dead sentry by the feet while Lyra carried him by the shoulders.
Back to the thicket they went, the Ruck's horn dangling from a leather strap and clanking and chinging against rocks as it dragged on the ground. They dropped the corpse in the woods, and then down to the outcropping they scuttled once more, this time to take up a scimitar and a half-full canteen and a small bag holding meat dark and stringy, and to kick soil over the small amount of blood spilled.