"Keep moving," whispered Valmir. "We don't want to get separated from the others."
"Spiders bother you?"
No grin from Valmir this time. In fact, his face was downright grim. "There's worse than spiders in the Khopet-Dag these days," he said. "Now move. We're out in the open."
Berun quickened his pace until they were just behind the next man in line. When they descended the opposite side of the hill and were once again beneath the trees, Berun turned to Val and said, "Sentinelspire is east. Why are we walking west?"
"Sentinelspire's two hundred miles east," said Val. "You really want to walk all that way?"
"Beats all these damned spiders," Kerlis muttered.
"We aren't walking?" asked Berun.
For once, Val seemed annoyed at the chatter, his scowl deepening. "There's a portal in the foothills," he said. "I never knew of a portal in the Khopet-Dag." "There's lots of things you don't know," said Val. "Meaning what?"
"Meaning you've been away a long time. Things have changed at the Fortress. Lots of things."
Night hit the woods fast. Though it was still dusk above the tree canopy, the thick leaves blocked out what little light bled down from the sky. Wind from the south had picked up, thunder rumbled in the distance, and Berun could smell the storm coming. Sauk stopped and ordered them to camp at the first sizeable stream they found-a small rivulet that cut its way through steep banks and over the black rocks of the hill before them.
The men set to work, building a few fires and preparing their meager meals. No tents. Each man carried blankets, and they would sleep beside the fires. Berun was thankful for his oilskin cloak. By the sound of the thunder and the smell of the wind, they would have a significant rain before midnight.
Seeing the work well underway, Sauk called out to a man to whom Berun had not yet spoken. Tall and swarthy, he had the build and complexion of a Thayan, but he wore the fine clothes of a westerner. Although he was in need of washing, it was evident he took pride in his appearance; his beard was well trimmed, and his hair was just growing out of what was obviously a carefully chosen cut.
"Merzan," said Sauk. "Me and Benjar and Hama are going out to scout. You're in charge." He looked at Lewan and Berun. "You two just sit by the fire and rest. No talking. Merzan, take appropriate action if they try to speak to each other."
"As you say, Sauk," said Merzan. He gave Lewan and Berun a look of complete indifference. That bothered Berun. A grin might have shown overconfidence-something Berun could use. A bluster or boast might have meant he was dealing with someone too keen on who was in charge-something else Berun could use. But the complete lack of emotion likely meant that Merzan was an iron-cold killer, who didn't care one way or the other whether Lewan and Berun lived or died. That meant trouble.
Berun settled himself beside the fire that Benjar and Hama-Vaasans, by the looks of them-had left. His shoulder felt better. Perhaps all the walking had helped to stretch it. But his side where Sauk had kicked him still throbbed with pain.
Valmir sat across from him. The blond man looked tired, but the easy grin was back. "Hungry?" "A little," said Berun.
Val rummaged through a heavy canvas pack. "No servants out here. We'll have to make our own." — "Sauk took my pack." "No worries," said Val. "I got you." "Very kind."
"You haven't tasted my cooking yet. May not think me so kind after."
Berun shrugged out of his cloak and loosened his belt a notch. He winced at the pain in his ribs. "Still hurting?" asked Val. "I'm fine."
"Have it your way. Tea'll be ready soon." Berun watched Val set a small iron kettle near the fire and rummage through his foodstuffs.
"What kind of changes?" asked Berun. "What?"
"Back on the hill. You said there've been lots of changes at Sentinelspire. What kind of changes?"
Val's smile widened. "So you admit that you used to live there?"
"I never denied it."
"Never admitted it, either."
"Why give you answers you already know?"
Valmir nodded. "Fair enough, I suppose. Let's just say the Old Man's been busy all these years. And not always in good ways. That man could give Sauk lessons in cunning."
"Then won't he know we're coming?"
"Don't you worry about that," said Val. "Sauk is still as much a cunning hunter as he ever was, and the Old Man still trusts him. We might have to disguise you a bit, though I'd wager that you look nothing like you used to. Am I right?"
"I'm… not the man I used to be."
Val laughed. "Who is?"
Berun glanced to the other side of the camp. Lewan was sitting beside a fire. He accepted a bit of food and a small tin cup of water from one of the men. It bothered Berun that the boy seemed so at ease.
"Don't underestimate your old friend Sauk," Val continued. "He could get King Haedrak into Sentinelspire if he wanted to."
"But you said the Old Man was even smarter. 'Could give Sauk lessons in cunning,' you said."
"True enough," said Val as he continued to prepare the tea. "But I also said that the Old Man still trusts him-and we aren't on our own. We got us some… what you might call 'inside help.' "
"You mean Talieth."
Valmir's movements suddenly became very careful and precise. Very intentional. "What do you know about Talieth?"
"Another one of those questions to which you already know the answer?"
Val's grin didn't falter, but the good humor left his eyes. He shrugged and said, "People talk."
Berun knew that was enough on this subject. Kheil and Talieth… to say they had a history together would be only the beginning of a long tale, and it was not a happy one. And this was obviously a sensitive point for Val. That intrigued Berun.
"How long have you been at the Mountain?" said Berun.
"A few years."
"Where before that?"
"Why are you so interested in talking all of a sudden? Couldn't get a damned word out of you all day."
Berun shrugged. "When I walk, I walk. But fireside is good for talk."
The glint of mischief lit Val's eyes again. "And there's one thing you don't like to talk about. Am I right?"
"That's true of everyone," said Berun. "You don't want to tell me where you're from, then?"
"Not much to tell," said Val as he inspected the insides of two tin cups. Apparently satisfied, he took the kettle from the coals and poured the tea. He looked at Berun through the steam rising from the cup as he handed it to him. "I was a thief in Darromar. A moderately successful one. Enough that I began to get a bit of a reputation. I had an… incident with the local guild and had to ply my skills elsewhere. Went to Tethyr, where I took in with a fellow who started teaching me a bit of the Art."
"Magic?"
"Nothing special. Just a few spells here and there that help in my line of work. But that line of work proved a bit too successful again. I was hiding from a local noble's hired men when worse trouble came knocking at the noble's door. Turns out he'd angered some of the wrong people, and the Old Man was hired to take care of the problem. One thing led to another, and I ended up impressing Merzan, who offered me… what you might call an audition."
"One thing led to another?" said Berun. "What's that mean?"
"It means things got ugly with the nobleman, and Merzan was impressed with how I handled the situation." "Care to elaborate?"
"Care to talk about Talieth?" said Val as he took a careful sip of the tea.
Berun sipped the tea and scowled.
Valmir chuckled, but Berun didn't hear much humor in it.
The dregs of Berun's thin soup were just beginning to cool when Sauk and the scouts returned. One glance at the eagerness in the half-orc's gaze and the confidence in his gait told Berun that something was happening.