“No broken, burned-out wagons, anyway. Whoever they are, they might have shoveled some loose dirt over the mess they left.” She shivered as a gust of wind billowed her cloak. “I thought our novice there was going to faint.” She sighed angrily. “Wretched horse. I could’ve broken my neck!”
“It takes time to bury such a mess, my Eddis. You know that. Perhaps those folk had no choice but to flee the area at once. I think we will learn what happened at the Keep.”
“No doubt,” the woman said dryly. “In other words, we should get moving, right?”
M’Baddah shrugged, a wide and graceful gesture of his hands. She glanced over at the priests. The novice stood with his head bent as the elder held out a cloth-wrapped bundle and murmured a prayer over it or to it—she couldn’t tell which. Each day at this hour, he’d broken the thing out for prayers, and it took time. Just now, she was cold and cross and ready to reach the gates up there and be done with riding for the time being.
“I’m ready. How much longer is he gonna take?” she growled.
“He is paying us extra to make stops for his rites,” M’Baddah reminded her quietly.
The priest lowered the bundle, checked its wrappings, and handed it to the novice to restore to the box on the packhorse’s back. The youth brought all three mounts back with him.
“There. An hour or less, and we deliver the clients safely, and all is well. I sell Feather for you, or we trade him—”
“Blessed right we do,” she replied shortly. “In case you forget, M’Baddah, the brute has thrown me the last two mornings in a row.”
The foreigner smiled. His eyes glinted. “Then, I shall kill and cook him for you, as payment for his crimes. And, how does my Eddis like her roast horse—hot through only, or dark and dry?”
Eddis turned to stare at him, her jaw slack. He raised an eyebrow and waited.
Her lips twisted. She finally laughed, and the tension went from her body and her eyes. “All right, M’Baddah, you win! They’re ready. Let’s get these two safely inside the Keep.”
He patted her shoulder and moved onto the road to signal the guard in.
“Anything, M’Whan?” he asked as the rider drew close.
“No, Father.”
He also wore red and black painted armor and carried a shortbow at the ready. M’Baddah’s son, M’Whan, was a paler, younger copy of his father, at least physically. He had only joined them two journeys before, and to Eddis he still seemed shy or unsure whether he belonged with them. For a while, she hadn’t been sure of that either, but it was a small enough favor to grant M’Baddah. The older man had traveled with her from the first and had proven himself invaluable. M’Whan was still quiet, but he was an accurate archer, a skilled swordsman, a good hunter, and nearly as keen-eyed a tracker as his father.
The priest and his novice were waiting quietly where the Keep road branched. Eddis and M’Baddah mounted and got the company on the move once again. At her gesture, M’Whan took the lead, and she and the older guard dropped back behind the clients. The swordswoman chuckled quietly.
“Thank you, M’Baddah.”
He smiled and sketched a bow.
“You know,” she added thoughtfully, “when I first hired you, I knew I was getting a good tracker and fighter—and, I hoped, an all-right cook. I didn’t realize how useful you’d be at breaking bad moods. Mine especially.”
He raised one eyebrow—a trick Eddis found mildly annoying since she couldn’t do it. “Bad—? Oh, I see. This temper, you mean. But, you could easily learn to do a shift-mood yourself, if you chose, my Eddis. You breathe deeply, from the gut, and with each breath, the four words—”
“No,” she said firmly. “Thank you, but I am not ready for your religion, M’Baddah—or whatever it is. Not yours, not theirs, not anyone’s.”
They were quiet for some moments. Eddis laid a hand on his forearm. “Sorry, my friend. Everything I’ve said to you today has been rude or angry or both. I’m grateful you’ve stayed with me.”
“It pleases me to stay with you.” M’Baddah loosened his grip on the reins as the road began to climb.
M’Whan slowed the pace to a walk, partly for the comfort of the clients, but mostly so he could keep a sharp eye out as the rock walls closed in and the road began to twist its way up the steep cliff. A few turns on, there wasn’t much chance of an ambush because the Keep guards could see just about everything, though Eddis made sure her guards stayed alert all the way to the gates. Including herself. I haven’t gained my reputation as a good caravan guard by taking fool’s chances, she reminded herself.
The way was narrow here, just wide enough for a cart and a rider, and there were massive boulders and rock piles everywhere. She shoved her boots deeper into the stirrups and drew back on the reins as the wretched Feather began easing to the right—and the drop-off. The road was at its steepest here, and she didn’t like it much at the best of times.
“We are nearly out of this,” M’Baddah reminded her. “This switchback and the next, and then it is nothing. And I will switch sides with you now, if you like.”
She nodded and drew a relieved breath when he and his placid mare settled in next to her again. Heights weren’t the problem, but the horse…
She ducked and threw up an arm to shield her head as a hail of small stones clattered down the slope, bouncing off the road, her head, and her forearm. Startled, Feather plunged sideways and tried to rear, but M’Baddah hauled him down before turning his own mount and urging it a few paces downhill where he could look for the source of the slide. M’Whan’s startled, wordless cry brought him back around and stopped him cold.
Two large men had come from between piles of stone and stood mid-road a few paces ahead of him, effectively cutting off their progress. One held a crossbow, the other a heavy, two-handed battle-axe. The young guard froze as the crossbow veered his way. The priest and novice eased left, against the cliff face, dragging the packhorse with them.
From somewhere above Eddis, a third man called down, “That’s right, all of ye! Stay nice and still—and quiet!—and no one’ll die! No tricks, any of you, or y’all die!”
M’Baddah held out a warning hand as Eddis glanced his way and felt for her sword.
“You! Skinny lad in the rear, I see that! Hand away from the blade, mow.”
Eddis scowled, hand still hovering, but M’Baddah said, “He is almost straight above you, my Eddis, and he has a stone in his hands—a large one.”
She spread one hand across her leg, signaling “Stay ready.” The brute high above her rumbled a threat, and Eddis spread her hands as wide as she dared without letting go the reins. The horse was acting up, tight as she held him.
“You settle that horse down there, boy!” the man overhead snapped. “No tricks, I said!”
“Come steady him yourself!” Eddis snarled and looked up. Three man-lengths above her, a bear of a man in rusty armor straddled a slab of rock, easily hefting a boulder that would crush her, if he dropped it. His eyes went wide.
“You’re no lad!”
“Bright man,” Eddis replied steadily. “Except you’ve picked the wrong place to rob people.”
“Would be,” the man with the crossbow said, “if we planned on taking our time.” He stepped forward, eyes shifting to the priest. “We won’t. You—priest. Just hand over that box and your pouch, and we’ll be gone.”
The priest eyed him coldly.
“Or we’ll kill you all and take it anyway.”
The bandit gasped in pain, one of M’Whan’s hidden daggers deep in his forearm. The crossbow twanged loudly. Eddis tightened her grip on the reins and threw herself flat on Feather’s neck as the quarrel sang through the air unnervingly close.
M’Baddah caught his breath sharply, came up behind Eddis, and slapped her horse on the rump, sending it jerking forward. The crossbowman’s weapon fell from suddenly limp hands, as he staggered back, M’Whan’s second dagger buried to the hilt in his throat.