And Tarma turned back to deal with the corpse as Kethry began mustering her energies for "clean-up."
* * *
Tarma bundled the body into its own cloak, giving Warrl mental congratulations over the relatively clean kill; the kyree had only torn the man's throat out. The man had been relatively small; she figured she could handle the corpse alone. She heaved the bundle over her shoulder with a grunt of effort, trusting to the thick cloak to absorb whatever blood remained to be spilled, and went out into the corridor, picking a room at random. The first one she chose didn't have its own fireplace, so she left that one -- but the second did. It was a matter of moments and a good bit of joint-straining effort to stuff the carcass up the chimney; by the time she returned, a little judicious use of magic had cleaned up every trace of a struggle around Jadrek's quarters, and Kethry and the Archivist were in the little bedroom that lay beyond the closed door in his sitting room. The mage was helping Jadrek to make a pack of his belongings, and Jadrek was far calmer now than Tarma had dared to hope. Warrl was stretched across the doorway, still growling under his breath. He gave her a gentle warn-off as she sent him a thought, his blood-lust was up, and he didn't want her in his mind until he had quieted himself.
Jadrek had lit a half dozen candles and stuck them over every available surface. The bedroom was as sparse as the outer room had been, though smelling a little less of damp. There was just a wardrobe, a chest, and the bed.
"Jadrek, how well do you ride?" Tarma asked, taking over the bundle Kethry was making and freeing her to start a new one.
"Not well," he said shortly, folding packets of herbs into a cloth. "It's not my ability to ride, it's the pain. I used to ride very well; now I can't stand being in a saddle for more than an hour or so."
"And if we drugged you?"
1He shrugged. "Drugged, aren't I likely to fall off? And you'd have to lead my beast, even if you tied me into the saddle; that would slow you considerably."
"Not if I put you on 'Heart. Or -- better yet, Keth, you're light and you don't go armored. How about if I take all the packs and 'Bane carries double?"
Kethry examined the Archivist carefully. "It should be all right. Jadrek doesn't look like he weighs much. Put him up in front of me, and I can hold him on even if he's insensible."
The Archivist managed a quirk of one corner of his mouth. "Hardly the way I had hoped to begin my career of adventuring."
Tarma raised an eyebrow at him.
"You look surprised. Swordlady, I did a great deal of my studying in hopes of one day being able to aid some heroic quester. After all, what better help could a hero have than a loremaster? Then," he held out one hand and shoved the sleeve of his robe up so they could see the swollen wrists, "my body betrayed me and my dreams. So goes life."
Tarma winced in sympathy; her own bones ached in the cold these days, enough that rough camping left her stiff and limping these days for at least an hour after rising, or until she finished her warming exercises. She didn't like to think how much pain swollen joints meant.
"Have you any plan?" the Archivist continued. "Or are we just going to run for it?"
Tarma shook her head. "Don't you think it -- Running off blindly is likely to run us right into a trap. We came out of the south, the Hawks are to the south and west -- I'd bet the King's men'll expect us to run for familiar territory."
"So we go opposite?" Jadrek hazarded. "North?
Then what?"
Tarma folded a shirt into a tight bundle and wedged it into the pack. "North is where Stefansen went. North is where Idra likely went. No? So we'll track them North, and hope to run into one or both of them."
"I know where Stefansen intended to go," Jadrek said slowly, "I did tell Idra before she went missing. But frankly it's some of the worst country to travel in winter in all of Rethwellan."
"All the better to shake off pursuit. Cough it up, man, where are we going?"
"Across the Comb and into Valdemar." He looked seriously worried. "And winter storm season in the Comb is deadly. If we're caught in an ice storm without shelter, well, let me just say that we probably won't be a problem for Raschar anymore."
"This is almost too easy," Tarma muttered, surveying the empty court below Jadrek's window. "Keth, is there anything you can't live without back in the room?"
The mage pursed her lips thoughtfully, then shook her head.
"Good, then we'll leave from here. Nobody's been alerted yet, and evidently Jadrek's in poor enough condition that nobody has even considered he might slip out his window."
"With good reason, Swordlady," Jadrek replied, coming to Tarma's side and looking down into the court himself. "I can't imagine how I could climb down."
"Alone, you couldn't; we'll help you," Kethry told him. "I can actually make you about half your real weight with magic, then we'll manage well enough."
The Archivist looked down again, and shuddered, but to his credit, did not protest.
They'd sent Warrl for a short coil of rope from the stables; there were always lead-ropes and lunges lying around, and any of those would be long enough.
He returned just as Kethry completed her spell-casting; they tied one end around Jadrek's waist, then Kethry scrambled out of the window and down the wall to steady him from below as Tarma lowered him. Before they were finished, Tarma had a high respect for the man's courage; climbing down from the window put him in such pain that when they untied him they found he'd bitten his lip through to keep from crying out.
All their gear was still with the mares. When they'd left Hawksnest, they'd chosen to use a different kind of saddle than they normally chose, one meant for long rides and not pitched battles. Like the saddles Jodi preferred, these were little more than a pad with stirrups, although the pad extended out over the horse's rump. When Tarma carried Warrl pillion, he had a pad behind her battle-saddle to ride on; there was just enough room on the extended body of this saddle for him to do the same. So Kethry had no trouble fitting Jadrek in front of her, which was just as well -- Jadrek had mixed something with the last of his wine and gulped it down before attempting the window. He was fine, although still in pain, when they started saddling up. But by the time the mares were harnessed and all their gear was in place, he was fairly intoxicated and not at all steady.
They did manage to get him into the saddle, but it was obvious he wouldn't be staying there without Kethry's help.
Warrl? Tarma thought tentatively.
:All is well, mindmate,: came the reassuring reply. :There is no one in sight, and I am distracting the gate guards. If you go swiftly, there will be no one to stop or question you.:
"Let's move out now," she told her partner, "while Furface has the guards playing 'catch-me-if-you-can' with him."
Kethry nodded; they rode out of the palace grounds as quietly -- they'd signaled the mares for silence, and now Hellsbane and Ironheart were moving as stealthily as only two Shin'a'in bred-and-trained warsteeds could. They managed to get out unchallenged, and waited outside the palace for Warrl to catch up with them, then put Ironheart and Hellsbane to as fast a pace as they dared, and by dawn were well clear of the city.