Torgan gave him a sour look. "Come along then. We're going around this one."
He snapped his reins and Trili started forward. After only a few seconds, however, he realized that Jasha wasn't following. He turned to look at the merchant and saw that he was staring southward, his face ashen in the bright sunlight. He swiveled in his seat, following the direction of Jasha's gaze. What he saw made his breath catch in his throat.
From this distance it appeared to be no more than a cloud of dust, a wisp of brown against the golden grasses and blue sky. It could have been kicked up by a sudden gust of wind, or a small herd of rilda. But even without Jasha's keen sight, even without asking the lad what he saw, Torgan knew that it was neither the breeze nor the wild beasts.
Riders. Fal'Borna riders.
"Have they seen us yet?" he managed to ask, his mouth abruptly so dry he could barely make himself understood.
"I don't think so."
Torgan looked around, much as Jasha had done moments before, and with much the same result. There was nowhere to hide out here. He snapped the reins again, fiercely this time, and he yelled at Trili to run. To the beast's credit, she leaped forward, straining against the harness, yanking the wagon into motion. Torgan was nearly thrown to the ground, and the cart shuddered and bounced mercilessly as they rushed over the grasses and rocky soil. But at least for a few precious moments he could fool himself into believing that they were getting away.
Then Jasha shouted to him to stop. At first Torgan ignored him, but within moments the lad had caught up to him with his cart.
"Torgan, stop!" he said again. "This is folly! We can't outrun Fal'Borna riders!"
"We can try!" he shot back, though he knew Jasha was right.
"If they see you running, they'll kill you! You know they will! Your one chance is to confront them, convince them that you've done nothing wrong!"
"I've been with you for days and I haven't managed that! How am I supposed to convince the white-hairs?"
"I don't know!"
Strangely, it was this candid answer that reached Torgan and made him slow his horse.
"I don't know," the lad said a second time, slowing as well. "But you can't escape them, and if they see you making the attempt, they'll never believe anything you say."
"So you're saying I should just surrender to them."
"What choice do you really have?"
"They'll kill me."
"Chances are they'll kill both of us."
Torgan hadn't even considered the idea that Jasha might be in danger, too. But of course he was. "Do you really believe that?"
"I'm an Eandi merchant riding with another Eandi whom they consider an enemy. I'd be surprised if they didn't."
"Then why don't you run? Your horse is faster than mine." He glanced to the south again. The dust cloud had grown, and he could make out a lengthy column of riders headed in their general direction. He couldn't tell if the Fal'Borna had spotted them yet. "You can unhitch her from your cart. You might be able to outrun them. It's me they want." He'd never been one for heroism, and he wasn't quite certain why he was choosing this moment to start. Jasha had been nothing but a bother since they started traveling together, and knowing now that the lad thought him a liar and murderer, Torgan should have damned him to whatever doom the Qirsi had in mind for them.
He couldn't do it, though. He'd had nothing to do with Y'Farl's death or the tragedy that befell the people of the Neck, and whatever harm he'd brought to S'Plaed's sept had been unintentional. Still, he'd been carrying the weight of those deaths for days now. Perhaps one more shouldn't have bothered him, but it did.
"Maybe we have time to hitch your wagon to the back of mine. The Fal'Borna need never know that we were together."
Jasha actually smiled, looking older and wiser than Torgan had seen him. "They'd know, Torgan. They can track a single rilda over rock and water. They can track me on this plain. No," he said, shaking his head and facing south again. "We'll face them together. It's really all we can do."
So they sat atop their carts, watching the horsemen approach, noting the slight shift in their direction as they finally spotted the two merchants. Torgan had never been any braver than he was heroic, and as he waited for the Fal'Borna to reach him, he felt himself succumbing to a debilitating fear. He grew sweaty, his hands trembled, and his teeth chattered as if they were in the midst of the Snows rather than the Harvest. His innards turned to water, so that long before the Qirsi got there, he had to climb off of his cart, walk behind it, and relieve himself. Even after he was back on his wagon again, the stink clung to him, hanging in the air around them. Jasha, who could not help but notice, was kind enough not to say anything.
The Fal'Borna continued their advance. Torgan could make out their white hair now, tied back in tails that streamed behind them like battle flags.
"I'd be grateful if you didn't tell them that you think I've been lying," he said. "If they choose not to believe that the woman is real, so be it. But they don't need any prodding from you in that regard."
Jasha smirked, his eyes never leaving that approaching column. "I won't say a thing."
"They may ask you."
"I'll tell them that I never saw the woman, but I did see her baskets. Will that do?"
Torgan exhaled heavily. "Probably not, but perhaps it won't make matters any worse."
As the Qirsi drew nearer, Torgan thought he recognized one of the leaders. He couldn't remember the man's name, but that was far less important than his sept, and the merchant racked his brain trying to attach an a'laq's name to the face before him.
"There are so many of them!" Jasha muttered. "Eight fours at least. Maybe ten. Do you think they sent out that many for us?"
Torgan concentrated on that face, saying nothing. He was so close to remembering.
"Torgan?"
He raised a hand, to keep the lad from saying more. It was right there, at the edge of his memory…
"E'Menua!" he whispered at last.
"What?"
Torgan closed his eyes. "Demons and fire," he said. "It's E'Menua's sept."
"Who's E'Menua?" Jasha asked.
He just shook his head.
"Talk to me, Torgan. They're getting close."
Any hope he might have had left was gone now. He could hardly bring himself to speak. "E'Menua is the a'laq of a large sept that often keeps to the central plains. I should have known these riders were his."
"You've had dealings with him before?"
"Some, none that was particularly unpleasant. But he has little affection for any Eandi, be they warriors or merchants, and he's said to be a fearsome warlord." Torgan looked at the lad. "You should have run when you had the chance."
Before Jasha could respond, one of the warriors just behind the two lead riders hurled a spear toward them so that it rose in a high arc and then plunged to earth, stabbing into the ground just in front of them, exactly between the two carts. Torgan's horse reared, as did Jasha's, and both merchants fought to control their beasts.
"Damn them!" Torgan muttered. This was part of what made the Fal'Borna so dangerous. They were as skilled with weapons as any Eandi army, and yet they also wielded Qirsi magic. They were said to be fearless in battle, and merciless as well. Torgan could only assume that he had but moments left to live.
The riders came to a halt just a few fourspans from where Torgan and Jasha waited for them, stirring the dust, so that a dun haze drifted over the merchants.
"Both of you, throw down your blades!" one of the leaders said, hefting a spear of his own.
The merchants exchanged puzzled looks. Forty Fal'Borna warriors were worried about their daggers?
"Our blades?" Jasha said.
"You heard me! Throw them down now, or we'll kill you both!" There could be no mistaking the man's tone: He meant what he said. Torgan glanced at his companion again and shrugged. He pulled his old dagger from his belt and tossed it on the ground by his cart. Jasha did the same.
One of the Fal'Borna ran forward and retrieved the blades. "Now, down off your cart, Torgan Plye!"