He stood and brushed the loose grass from his robe. "I will be retiring," he announced. "I hope you sleep well."
The others bid him good night.
Celeste looked up at Tristan again. "I'm also tired, my love" she said. She stood with difficulty. "Are you coming?"
"In a little while," he answered. "It's a beautiful night. I'd like to sit by the fire with Ox for a while longer."
Celeste smiled. "I had almost forgotten how much you love being outdoors," she said. She looked over at Ox. "Goodnight," she said.
The warrior gave her a short smile. "Ox say goodnight, too," he answered.
Tristan watched her enter their tent, then turned back to the fire. Silence reigned between him and the warrior for a time.
"The wizard be very worried," Ox said. "Ox worried, too. We reach Well tomorrow, Ox hope. I no want see Wigg's daughter die."
Ever since the episode at the Gates of Dawn, Ox had considered Tristan his personal charge. During their first conflict with Wulfgar, he had come to feel the same way about Celeste and Shailiha. When he had learned that Tristan and Celeste had married, in his happiness he had consumed an entire jug of akulee by himself. Despite his great size, his head had hurt for the next two days.
"I know, my friend," Tristan answered. "I know."
Ox handed the akulee jug to the prince. As the tree frogs sang and the fire snapped, Tristan took another slow, welcome drink. nestled securely in the branch of a tree, a figure dressed in black leather watched the campsite. Satine had been forced to slither toward the tree very slowly. More than once, Minion patrols had nearly spotted her.
She took up the small spyglass that hung from a leather cord at her hip. Before she had begun the night's surveillance, she had carefully rubbed the instrument with dirt so that it would not shine in the moonlight. She had done the same to her face and hands. She lifted the glass to one eye, extended it, and twisted it.
The magnifying lenses brought everything into sharp relief. This was the second time tonight that she had viewed the campsite through the glass. The first time, she had watched her targets eating. Now she watched as the prince, the wizard, and his daughter finally retired, leaving a giant Minion guard alone by the dwindling fire.
Shifting her position in the tree, Satine stretched her back and lowered the glass. It would be a long night, but if she could just catch one of them away from the campsite, she would be that much closer to completing her sanctions. If the warriors continued to fly over the road tomorrow, she could sleep briefly in her saddle.
She looked up at the three moons. It occurred to her that they beamed down upon not only her and her targets, but also upon Aeolus, Shamus, and Evelyn. The three moons bind us together in a way, she thought.
She was also reminded of Wigg comforting his daughter, and of Tristan perhaps holding her close as he lay by her side. She thought of Shamus and Evelyn in their bed together, and of what the consul had told her, as well as what Aeolus had said just before she left Tammerland. Their contradictory messages ate at her, feeding the growing seeds of doubt.
She pushed her thoughts away and turned her dark eyes back toward the campsite. Tristan started from a fitful sleep. it took him a few moments to recognize his surroundings, then he relaxed.
Rising on one elbow, he looked over at Celeste. She slept peacefully. Given his restlessness, he knew that it would do little good to try to go back to sleep. What he needed was a walk. He kissed his wife on the cheek, then slipped from beneath the blanket, quietly took up his weapons, and stepped from the tent.
The night was crisp, the moons bright. Ox lay asleep by the fire, his snoring as loud as ever. Tristan smiled. One could have far worse friends, he thought.
He stretched his sleepy muscles, then strapped both the dreggan and his throwing knives into place across his back. He walked to the other tents and talked with some of the warriors just back from patrol. They were glad to see him and happily shared their akulee.
On the way back to his tent, Tristan suddenly remembered what it was that had been scratching at the back of his mind. He had been worried about Shadow. Late in the day, as they had neared the place where they were to make camp, the horse had suddenly developed a limp. Tristan could tell that it was nothing serious, but he had made a mental note to check the horse later, after the Minions had bedded him down. Now was as good a time as any.
He thought for a moment about asking a patrol to accompany him, but then decided against it. He would feel foolish about taking them on so short and simple an errand-and besides, he wanted some time to himself. Leaving the relative safety of the camp behind, he starting walking to where the horses were tied. watching through the spyglass, Satine couldn't believe her luck. At last, she thought. She easily recognized the figure leaving the campsite. She even thought she knew where he was headed.
After securing her glass in her cloak, she looked around carefully. She could see no Minion patrols nearby. She descended from the tree. The grass beneath her feet was wet with dew, the better to muffle her footsteps.
As she moved toward her quarry, she reached behind her back and took up the tools of her trade. The horses had been tied to a line that stretched between two large trees in the center of an open meadow. At the edge of the meadow, Tristan called softly to the lone Minion guard to alert him to his approach.
As he neared, the horses came to their feet, whinnying. Shadow's black coat shimmered in the moonlight as he turned his large, dark eyes toward his master. The prince gave him an affectionate rub on the neck.
Tristan had long thought that his former mount, Pilgrim, would never have an equal. But over the course of the last three days he had learned that in terms of sheer speed and endurance, Shadow had no match. A bond was growing between them that might soon eclipse even the one he had shared with Pilgrim. As he rubbed the horse's ears, Shadow snorted and shook his mane.
Tristan looked at the guard. "All is well here?"
The guard nodded. "Yes, Jin'Sai."
Tristan smiled. "Now then," he said to Shadow. "Let's take a look at that foot, shall we, boy?"
Bending over, he coaxed the stallion's right front hoof from the ground and placed it on his bended knee. It was difficult to perform an examination in the moonlight, but he eventually found the problem. There was a long bramble-bush thorn lodged between the horse's shoe and the frog of his foot.
Tristan took out one of his throwing knives. It wasn't a proper tool, but it would have to do. He bent down again.
There was an unexpected breeze, and he heard a dull thud. He coiled up and snapped his head around to see an arrow, its shaft still quivering, buried in the Minion guard's forehead. The warrior's face registered surprise, and then he collapsed to the ground, dead. In shock, Tristan realized that had he not bent over when he had, the arrow would have gone straight through his neck.
He ducked under Shadow's legs and rolled to the other side of the horse, where he stood again, using his horse and the bay mare next to him as cover. The sudden action startled the other two horses, and they danced about nervously, shaking their heads.
Tristan peered over the bay's back. He saw nothing unusual. The horses settled down, and everything was quiet once more. The meadow stretched innocently before him, its dewy grass shimmering in the moonlight. The only cover he could see was the woods that bordered the opposite side of the clearing. It would have been a very long shot with a bow from there, and only an expert archer could have accomplished it.
Hunching down behind the middle horse once more, he caught his breath and tried to decide what to do. His decision was made for him as another arrow sliced through the air and went through the horse's eye.