“Bandit scouts often use this road,” Ezu added. “The peasants meant to leave my body where the bandits would find it.” In spite of the grim topic, Ezu managed a grin. “My death was to be a warning to others.”
“Folks here seem made of sterner stuff than you,” Raika mused to Malek.
“They are many, we are few,” the farmer replied defensively.
“All this is fascinating,” Howland said, “but what happened to the lynch mob? How did they end up so stricken?”
Ezu cupped a hand to the back of his head, looking embarrassed. “My doing, I fear.”
“Magic!” declared Carver.
“Not at all. I used Piroquey’s Powder on them.”
“What powder?”
“Piroquey’s Powder,” Ezu explained. “It is a rare substance I picked up in my wanderings. Sprayed in the air and inhaled, it causes a waking paralysis.”
“Why did you use it?” asked Howland.
The genial stranger said, “I thought once I’d stopped the hanging, I could wriggle out of my bonds, but they tied me too well. When you came along, I was wondering if I would get loose before the mob woke up.”
Malek grunted. “I wish you hadn’t used all the powder. A substance like that would have been invaluable against Rakell.”
Carver had ideas of his own about Piroquey’s Powder. “How long will they be asleep?”
“They could awake at any time.”
All the more reason to leave as soon as possible. Howland gathered everyone together and signaled Amergin they were going. The elf set off due east again, skirting the grove of silent vigilantes.
“Begging your pardon,” Ezu said, trotting after Caeta and Khorr. “This one would like to know if he might accompany you? At least to safer surroundings?”
“It’s not at all safe where we’re going,” Caeta replied, “but you’re welcome to join us for as long as you like.”
“Splendid!” Ezu bowed again. He ran back to the grove and returned, bearing an ornate satchel. It was made of strips of shiny black wood, jointed with twine. A woven handle on top allowed him to carry it.
“All my worldly goods,” he said, patting the box. “Couldn’t leave that behind!”
The march continued long after sundown. Time was short, and the farmers pressed Howland to hurry. The old Knight kept the party going until darkness was well upon them then called a halt. They had reached the edge of the high plain. The dull, steamy sky at last dissolved into the deep azure of dusk. Hills were fewer and lower, and trees stood out like isolated sentinels against the darkening sky.
“Cold camp, remember,” Howland said. “No fire.”
Carver shinnied up a chestnut tree for a look around. He slid back down and reported he could see a single campfire in the near distance, glowing against the velvet sky.
“How far?” asked Howland.
“Two miles, maybe.”
“I tire of being chased,” Raika said.
“So do I,” said Hume.
“Want to do something about it?” asked Howland.
The Saifhumi woman nodded.
“Take Amergin with you, and see if you can’t discourage them from following us. Hume and I will stay here. We need to guard our own camp. Just because a fire is burning nearby, that doesn’t mean the fire-builder is beside it.
“It’s an old wilderness trick,” added the Knight. “A fire draws trouble, like moths. While we send a force out to deal with our pursuer, they may choose the same time to attack. We must be vigilant.”
They camped in a shallow ravine lined with windblown leaves. Worn out by the journey, Wilf, Nils, and Caeta were soon asleep. Malek, brooding, could not succumb to slumber. All sorts of awful images crowded his thoughts: his friends and neighbors slaving in a black pit under the whips of cruel overseers. Weak ones, too feeble to work, being given to the ogres … Laila, sleek as a yearling doe, at the mercy of Rakell and his cronies-
The odd stranger, Ezu, loomed over him. “Greetings,” he said. “May this one join you?”
Malek grunted, shifting to one side. Ezu dropped beside him. He opened his satchel and took out a sheaf of waxed paper. Unrolled, Malek saw it held strips of dried fish of some kind. Ezu offered some to him.
He was tempted. Malek had eaten nothing but barley cake and water for days, and now that was running out. He and his comrades had privately agreed all the food would go to the warriors. His belly was like the sky overhead-black and empty.
“Thank you,” he said, warily taking just one strip. The fish jerky was actually quite tender and fiercely salty. Malek’s jaw clenched from the powerful taste.
“So,” said Ezu, “you seek to fight the bandits, all of you?”
Malek tried to look innocent and failed.
The stranger shrugged broadly. “When I see farmers and soldiers traveling together, I wonder … you do not bear their baggage, so you’re not porters. You and Sir Howland-” He held his hands up, palms down and parallel. “He listens to you. You’re his equal, yes?”
Malek bit off more fish. “We hired them to fight for us.”
“I would like to observe your struggle.”
Malek eyed Ezu uncertainly. “Our fight is not a show.”
“This one has been to many lands and seen many battles,” Ezu said. “My knowledge is yours for the asking. It may prove handy.”
The fish strip gone, Malek licked salt from his fingers. He didn’t trust the odd visitor, not at all. Maybe the lynching party was onto something. Maybe Ezu was a spy for Rakell.
“I am not a spy for anyone,” said Ezu, as if listening to Malek’s thoughts. His precision was so great Malek jumped to his feet.
“I’ll have to talk it over with my friends,” he said, unnerved. “Then you’ll have our answer.”
“Right-right.” Ezu rose. “Use this one how you can. You will not regret it.”
Malek already did.
Flat on their bellies, Raika and Amergin crawled toward the flickering fire. Burning windfall branches crackled loudly in the night, silencing nearby crickets and frogs.
“Anybody there?” she whispered. The elf shook his head ever so slightly.
Raika studied the scene. The campfire had been laid in the center of a triangle of oak trees. A single bedroll lay on the ground close by, along with a wicker basket equipped with carrying straps. It looked as though the fire-builder had stepped away, and might return at any moment.
Amergin said softly in Raika’s ear, “Trap. I’ll go round.” His breath, like his manner, was cool. Noiselessly he slid away. The last she saw of him was the blackened soles of his bare feet merging into the shadows.
Something with many legs crawled across her neck. She flicked it off without bothering to look at it.
The longer she studied the camp scene, the more Raika was convinced someone was actually in the bedroll. At casual glance, the blanket appeared open and empty, but staring at the firelight playing over its contours, Raika thought someone was moving under the blanket. There was even a sideways lump where the sleeper’s foot would be, turned outward at the heel.
No sign of Amergin. That meant nothing. The Kagonesti would not be seen unless he wanted to be. How could she let him know her suspicions about the bedroll? There might be other enemies lurking in the night.
Time passed with such slowness Raika felt her fingers and toes tingle. She drew in her hands and slowly pushed up on her knees. No responding movement from the bedroll.
Using her fingers to keep the blade from scraping on the scabbard, Raika drew her sword, one of the ones taken from the Quen guards in Robann. Raising the hilt to eye level, she sprang from the shadows and ran at the sleeping figure. Her long legs covered ground quickly-three, four, five long strides, and she was standing over the bedroll. The only part of the sleeper not covered by the blanket was a short shock of brown hair.
She used both hands to drive her blade into the supine figure. Raika felt fleeting resistance, then the sword point dug into the hard earth.