Tarma considered that for a moment. “In that case, I’d better get on my way. And young Lordan isn’t getting any better for you standing there.”
When Kethry didn’t move, Tarma frowned. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
The sorceress grimaced. “I think Rathgar was betrayed. I told Kero that whoever hired the mage and the bandits to pull this raid was probably one of Rathgar’s enemies, but I lied to her. I think it was Dierna’s uncle. That Reichert bastard.”
Tarma blinked—and swore an oath strong enough to make the witch-lights dim for a moment. “It all makes sense, doesn’t it—the fact that the raiders knew about the feast tonight and that almost everyone would be unarmed. That they knew where everything was. And that bastard has wanted the Keep since I can’t remember when. I didn’t like Rathgar, but he deserved better than that.”
“ ‘That bastard’ probably wouldn’t be too upset if Dierna’s father happened to die and the collateral lands came to him either,” Kethry pointed out grimly. “Basically, I think you’d better stay alert for other surprises—and if you can find anything linking him to this massacre, bring it back.”
Tarma nodded. “I’ll keep my nose to the ground.”
Kethry’s troubled eyes cleared, and she urged her horse down the tunnel. “That takes a lot of worry off my mind. I’ll go do what I can for Lordan.”
“And I’ll keep our young swordbearer in one piece.” Tarma mounted up, much to the displeasure of her horse, and followed her out into the night. “And may the gods ride with all of us.”
The moon was down, but Tarma had no problem following Warrl. Any time she lost him, he’d be sure to set her right with acidic delight. She was far more concerned with her mare’s footing in the uncertain light. One false step and the rescue could be ended with a broken foreleg. Shin’a’in-bred horses were damned canny, but accidents could still happen to anyone.
She was glad now she’d left her old mare back with the Clan two years ago, and had taken a younger beast. This was the fourth warsteed to carry the name “Hellsbane,” but she was the best so far. Though lazier by nature than the other three, she had keener senses, a superior level of good sense, and an uncanny knack for path-finding.
Warrl was up to his usual high standards; despite a confused trail, he had picked up Kero’s track with very little problem. He might be as old as Tarma, but there was nothing wrong with his nose.
I can’t imagine how that girl is finding the bandits’ trail, though. That had her sorely puzzled. She’s a good enough hunter, but not that good, and not by night—
:The sword?: Warrl suggested absently. :Kethry said that we don’t know all it can do. We’ve never seen it in the hands of someone entirely untrained.:
Tarma snarled a little at the thought of the blade that had caused her and her she’enedra so much trouble, and agreed. I’ll tell you, Furface, I’ve never been entirely happy about that blade. It has too much of a mind of its own. Damn thing came awfully close to getting Keth killed a time or two.
:The Hawkbrothers call it a “spirit-sword,”: Warrl reminded her, as he stopped at a crossroads to cast around for the scent. :I have often thought it to be more than a geas-blade. But your Star-Eyed bound you two, despite Kethry’s previous link to it, so I presume it isn’t inimical, only—hmm—stubborn?:
Tarma grimaced at the kyree’s choice of words. Maybe. Whatever, I’m glad now that the damn thing does have a mind of its own. The only two females in peril for leagues around are Kero and her brother’s bride. There’re no women in that bandit group, right?
:I have not scented any,: the kyree confirmed, loping off on the fork to the west.
Tarma urged her horse to follow. Then the goal and the target are clear. There’s nothing to confuse the issue. And Kero is going to need all the help she can get.
:We two are not precisely useless.: The path was leading off into the hills, and presently vanished. Warrl continued to follow with his nose along the bare ground, swiftly and silently.
It was as dark as the inside of a cat with the moon down. Tarma relaxed, rested, trusting to the senses of her mount and Warrl.
:Halt.:
Tarma reacted instantly, and so did her mare. She peered into the darkness ahead of her, and could barely make out a moving blot against the lighter expanse of scrub grass and dirt ahead.
What’s up? she thought at him. She could not speak mind-to-mind, but he could and did read her thoughts. They’d used that little talent of his on more than one scouting foray.
:Interesting. She dismounted here.: Tarma eased herself down out of her saddle, and winced a little when she put weight on her bad leg. She led the mare up to Warrl as quietly as she could to keep from distracting him. He raised his head and sniffed the breeze just as she got there.
:Fascinating. We are somewhere near the bandits’ camp. I can scent smoke and many humans, and weary horses. And old blood, and I think, Dierna. Which means the girl Kerowyn somehow knew they were nearby... :
He put nose to ground again. :The sword, I presume, alerted her. Or possibly is guiding her.:
Or controlling her, Tarma thought sardonically, thinking of times past.
:Perhaps. I think she led her horse off—there—:
Tarma dropped Hellsbane’s reins, ground-tethering her, and carefully moved off in the direction Warrl’s nose pointed. Within a few feet of the trail, behind a low rise, she found a creekbed with a trickle of water running through it, trees on both sides of it. Where the trees were thickest, she found Kero’s mare tethered with enough rein that she could eat and drink.
Satisfied—and pleased that the girl had thought to provide for her horse—she tethered Hellsbane there beside the girl’s riding mare, and returned to Warrl.
If it’s controlling her, she’s at least holding her own. Now what? she asked him.
He moved forward a few feet at a time. :Ah. Here she dropped to hands and knees. A crawling stalk.: He raised his head to look at her. :I would advise the same, based on the strength of the scents :
Tarma shook her head in admiration. Brightest Goddess—the damned blade is finally doing something right. All right, Furface, let’s see what you and I can do about cutting around to the other side of the camp.
Kerowyn halted her horse; she could just barely make out the dirt road ahead, and the fact that this was a crossroads. She stared at the trail and tried to remember what the stories she’d heard had said about her grandmother’s geas-blade. There was something about Kethry fighting as if she were a master swordswoman even though she was entirely untrained—which might mean the thing gave her unusual abilities. Could it make one a master tracker, perhaps?