He circled the hoard again, then slipped a throwing axe out from its oily wrapping. The oaken haft felt slick in his grip, but he wasn't going to need it long or do any precision cutting. Wordless, he struck the keg, splintering the wood and loosing the liquor in gurgling flow. The goblin sighed. Demlin and Lathal shared a mirthless grin.
Turning on his heel, Kethrenan left the others to follow. He took the stone stairs upward two at a time. Still clutching the hem of his wife's cloak, he strode out into the bitter brightness of the day. His sight dazzled, he saw only shapes and shadows. No matter, he knew them, his warriors.
"Prince?" said Lindenlea, the word a question.
He held up the strip of bloodstained green cloth, waving it like a pennon.
"She's been here!" he cried, not to her but to all. His words echoed from the dark stone of Hammer Rock. "Our princess has been here, but now she's gone. They are all gone, but here is the bloody hem of her cloak to say that she left this stinking hole alive!"
Their voices rose in rage, elven men and women clashing swords against shields and shaking their lances at the sky. One, a woman with eyes as fierce as a wolf's, shouted above the rage and the roar, "We will find her, my prince!" and others took up her cry. "We will find her! In the name of every god, we will take her back! We will bring home the princess!"
The force of their vows ran like fire in Kethrenan, and he would not kindle to it. He could not. This was not a season for fight. This was a hunter's season. He had seen what the goblin wanted to show him, and he knew Ithk was not going to lead him to Brand's doorstep. Ithk didn't know which of the hiding holes kept the outlaw now.
A slow grin tugged his lips. It was the hunting season, and he could be a hunter.
"Lea," he said, "take the warriors and find a clean place to camp, out of the wind. We have some planning to do."
By the light of a high, hot fire, they looked at the small map. It was roughly made; goblins aren't skilled at that craft. Drawn on the back of a scribe-made map from Kethrenan’s broad leather wallet, no ink to define but only soot from the fire, it showed six caches, each marked by a wavering triangle. They all pointed generally south, as Ithk had said. They didn't make a straight line. Brand had stowed his war gear in places that, when connected, made a triangle. The broad base of it lay in the northernmost part of the goblin’s map, where the largest part of the load of stolen weapons had been stored. The narrow head of the triangle lay farthest south.
Almost, Kethrenan thought, pointing at Pax Tharkas.
"That," said the prince, laying his finger on the point. "That was the last cache he made."
Lindenlea said she didn't know how Keth could know that. Demlin, maimed Demlin, said the answer was obvious.
"They had two wagons to unload and not so many men to do the work. They stashed most of it along that line-" He traced the base of the triangle, smearing it a little. "And they took the rest as far as they could go."
Lea considered, and she nodded. "Likely they've been living within that triangle all winter, close to their weapons. Smart."
"Wolf cunning," Demlin said, unwilling to give the outlaw more than that.
Keth let them bat it back and forth, his cousin and his servant. He listened a little, but he had his eye on the mark indicating the farthest cache. Wolf cunning, indeed. He sat back, feeling as he did when he knew exactly what must be done to bring the prey to earth.
He explained it to them, quietly and clearly, while the high wind moaned around the hills and the voices of his warriors played quiet counterpoint. Lindenlea didn't like the plan. She listened respectfully, but she didn't doubt that her cousin knew what she was thinking.
"My lord prince," she said, her voice stiff with disapproval, "this isn't how I would manage it."
He nodded. "I know. You would fly in with troops and burn down the mountains with your And you wouldn't find them that way, Lea."
She shook her head, careful not to speak as she would have were they alone. Alone she'd have said, Cousin, you're not thinking! Keth, you're a fool to trust this goblin!
She had said it before, in Qualinost. She believed it now, and, she supposed, there was no need to shout it.
He knew. Here in this cold camp, they were commander and warrior, not cousins. She did not speak her frustration; she spoke her warning.
"My prince, I don't know why you trust the goblin. You can't really believe that story about how much he hates Brand and what a coward Gnash is. Gnash is no coward, Keth."
"I know. I've seen Gnash in action, and I've seen what he leaves behind in the wake of his ambition. Gnash is blood-hungry. If he's not going after Brand, it's because he considers him small fry, something to be dealt with later. Me, I don't consider him that."
Kethrenan looked past her and past Demlin, who was rolling up the map. He looked at the goblin, guarded and pretending to sleep. It was a strange thing-something he wouldn't say to Lea or to Demlin-but he believed the goblin. He believed he wanted revenge on Brand. He knew what that looked like, the hunger.
"And him? I'll trust him till I can't. Then I'll kill him."
Lea frowned. "Remember what we saw in the temple, Keth. We heard him howling when the Stone went red. He's hiding something, and I don't trust him."
"Aye, well, it's not you who has to. You, cousin, are going to clean out this weapons cache, then you'll take this troop back to Qualinost. You're going to commission a better map than the one the goblin has made. While that is being made, you will take warriors and put them thickly on the borders, because I don't like all the goblin activity I'm seeing here. After that, you will send troops out to the other caches and empty them. I don't care what you do with the weapons. Break them if you can't carry them back. Just be sure to leave nothing for Brand."
"And you?"
The prince sat back, smiling for the first time in a long time. It was no cheerful smile, nor was it warm. He sat that way, still, for a long moment. When he looked up, Lea thought his eyes were frightening: cold and without the softer quality that might lead a person to think him capable of mercy.
"Demlin and I-and Ithk to be sure-are going hunting. I know the outlaw’s territory now. It used to be all this wild borderland. It's been shrunk a little now. Wherever it is he's gone to ground, he won't be far from one of those caches, and from time to time, he's going to have to put his head up for food. When he does-" He slammed his fist into his palm, startling Lea, startling the horses. "When he does, I'm going to take that head off."
Chapter 9
"Tianna said, "It’s a good day when you see the sun."
Just those words, no more, and Elansa couldn't have said the half-elf sounded wistful or wore any trace of sun-longing in her expression. She simply stood at the mouth of the cave, bent her bow to string it, and settled a full fat quiver on her hip.
"I'm not going alone," she'd said to Brand when it was decided it was her tum to go above and hunt. "And I'm not taking any of those damn men with me."
Over this dark season she'd grown a dislike for most of them, hungry-handed men who now and then tried their luck with her. Luckless hungry-handed men, but Elansa saw that the half-elf was getting tired of making her point. Tianna was, Elansa thought, getting tired of them all. It had been a while since she'd shared the sleeping furs with Brand. She spoke to no one but her father, sometimes to Char, but only if she was of a mind to flatter him for a drink. She looked beyond the fire a lot, like someone who was thinking about moving on.
Brand had said he didn't care who Tianna hunted with. All he cared about was that she come back with supper. And so she'd looked around for Dell, who could not be found. Neither could Arawn be found, and that answered that. Tianna announced she was taking Elansa and no one was to worry about her escaping.