M’Whan shook his head, visibly frustrated. “If he chose merely because he and I are the last of our family, if he chose for love of a son, or pride in his family… ?” An abashed smile turned the corner of his mouth, very briefly. “I doubt my father ever would have spoken of such things to you, as I do now, when he was Nehuelo. That is another difference between us.”
Eddis kept her eyes on the ground before her. Shadow was deep here and the ground uneven.
“All right,” she said finally. “Perhaps he did choose you for family, or for love. But remember, when he and I needed another guard, he asked that I hire you. You’re his son, yes, but if you weren’t skilled enough to take care of yourself, why would he put you in danger that way—or himself, or the clients who hire us? Or me, come to think of it. He’s fond of me—damned if I can think why, but it’s so.”
“If I fail him again…” The outland youth’s voice was overly tight as it faded.
“You haven’t faded him yet, M’Whan,” she replied. “The mere fact you worry that you aren’t good enough is reason to send you. The last person we’d want out there is someone like Jers—someone so full of himself that he’d wind up tripping over his own feet and putting everyone else at risk.”
A familiar voice spoke up just ahead of her. “Someone mention my name?” Jerdren asked. “Just making sure my co-captain is all right,” he added cheerfully.
Eddis rolled her eyes. “Save the sweet concern for your merchants’ women,” she replied crisply. Jerdren laughed and strode off toward the lead again.
M’Whan bit back a chuckle. He still looked tense when she glanced his way but not as bad as he’d been. “Thank you, Eddis,” he said quietly. “If he does ask, I’ll go, and I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will.” She smiled. “You don’t think I’d risk your life, do you? You’re important to me, and I value your skills and your presence. Your sense of humor. Good enough?”
He nodded.
“Good. It looks like we’ve found someplace to stop,” she added as they came into a clearing—this one longer than the previous one, with a shallow creek running along one side. She dropped her pack next to the water and knelt to bathe her face.
M’Whan went in search of his father.
The sun was near setting when M’Baddah led M’Whan, Willow, and two Keep men across the road and into high, frost-crisped grass. The air here was damp, and fog was beginning to pool in low places. They followed the west riverbank for some distance, then struck out due west as the shoreline became mucky and rank. The last of the tussocks behind them, M’Baddah again turned south and met up with the river almost at once, but now the ground was firm, sandy, and smooth and the bank lined with willow trees and bushes. Berry bushes, aspen, and the tall reeds blocked his view of the water, though he could now hear it, very close by.
The outlander signed for his men to stay where they were while he and the elf eased silently through the underbrush, stopping only when they could make out the ruddy light of sun on the water. It moved slowly here, a broad stream but shallow, the pebbly bed clearly visible. Partway across, massive black stones twice his height reared skyward, and the water boiled white around them. Not a good place for a man to walk, M’Baddah knew, unless he wanted the feet swept from under him.
There were two large islands midstream, the larger directly across from him. He couldn’t tell much about the second because it was west, in deep shadow. Smooth water there, and he thought it might be deep.
The sandy bank was marked with prints, but none of them belonged to men or horses: there, the deep, pointed prints of deer, and beyond them a large bear.
The nearest island was nearly flat, and wooded, but not thickly. A long look told him it was uninhabited. From here, he could just make out the far bank of the river, and beyond it, rocks and trees climbing steeply toward the darkening blue sky. If they crossed now, there would be enough light for them to be seen, if there were any watchers, but they would need what light there still was to pick a safe way across and to see any prints on the south shore. M’Baddah thought this over as his eyes searched upstream and down once again. Nothing and no one in sight, and aside from the sound of water moving slowly over stones, he could hear nothing but the distant cry of a hawk. He still withdrew as quietly as possible, Willow right behind him. Once in the open, M’Baddah beckoned his company well away from the water and into brush before he whispered a description of the riverbanks, drawing a map in the soft dirt with his finger.
“I say we all cross to the island, but only two of us go on from there. Whoever has the best eyes among you, I want you on the island to keep watch, with Willow as your leader. That way, if the two meet trouble, someone will be left to carry news back to the camp. With me, I want the best ears among you.
They discussed this briefly and quietly and chose one of the spearmen. M’Baddah turned and led the way back to the riverbank.
Silence, except for the burbling of the river around the standing stones. The wind had died away completely, and the colors of sunset shone on the water’s surface. M’Baddah took up a slender stick about half his height, removed his boots, and tucked them under his arm. He led the way into the shallows, feeling his way with the stick first, the Keep man a few paces behind him.
As he’d hoped, the water was merely cool this late in the season and never deeper than his ankles. The two men reached the small island without incident. There were a few willow trees here and a few thorn bushes covered with bright red berries. The outlander signed his companion to stay where he was, in view of those waiting on the north shore, and crossed the island barefoot, squatting behind low bushes to study what he could see of the far bank.
By the currents, the water was deep to the east but noisily shallow just to his left. He picked out what seemed the best crossing, eyed the opposite bank and the hillside. Still quiet, there. He backed away from the bank before standing and signing to his companion, who turned and waved to the others. The two men waited long enough to be certain the others were safely on the island before stepping into the water once more. Much later and it would be too dark to make out prints.
They crossed as quickly as they dared. M’Baddah emerged between two tall, bushy willows and slid into shadow behind smooth boulders, the Keep man right behind him. He stayed hidden, an arrow loosely held to his bowstring, while the outlander began moving slowly eastward, bent low, so he could study the damp, sandy bank.
Cat tracks here, plenty of deer once again, and what must be a sow bear, with at least one cub. He thought two, more likely. A bare space, where a rock ledge came far in to shore, and beyond that… M’Baddah crouched down and peered at the ground. Horses and horse droppings. Shod horses had come down to the water and gone away again, and there were enough overlaid tracks to show they’d come this way for many days. With them, boot prints—at least three men, possibly more.
They may be other men, and not those we seek, M’Baddah told himself, but it’s not likely. He eased to his feet, but before he could sign to his companion or those across the river, he heard the soft plod of heavy, hooved feet behind and above him—up the steep hillside and still among the trees—and the low voices of at least two men. He slid back along the rock shelf, ran sideways along the harder, drier sand above the waterline, and went down flat in deep shadow under a low bush just as the men came into sight. They were leading three horses each and grumbling.
A splash along the bank, farther to the east—M’Baddah held his breath as both men turned to look. Finally one of them sighed gustily.