The girl spoke for the first time when Gathrid started to leave. "What about me? What am I supposed to do?"
He looked into her dark, frightened eyes. He shrugged. "Whatever you want. You're free now."
She understood despite his recalcitrant tongue. "No. I'll never be free. I've been dedicated." She indicated the head. "The thing's masters will compel them. They can't break their bargain with it.
Nor it with them. The one who escaped. He'll bring friends. Powerful men. The high sorcerers. The fathers of the ones you slew."
Gathrid shrugged again. What could he say or do? He had not thought beyond her rescue. "Come on."
His plans had no room for companions, yet he could not abandon a responsibility once assumed.
She hesitated. She was afraid of him. She did not want to remain near a man so deadly. Yet he had saved her from the devils she knew.
Shortly after he shrugged a third time and started off, exchanging unpleasantries with the head, she called for him to wait.
Chapter Nine
Round Dedera The girl's name was Loida Huthsing. "Any relation to Franaker Huthsing?" Gathrid asked.
"My father." She seemed startled because he knew the name.
The demon was Gacioch. The girl was seventeen, the demon ageless. Loida had been part of the plunder the Mindak had sent home from Grevening. Gacioch was the lackey of a demon-lord in the service of high Venti-miglian nobles.
The youths Gathrid had slain belonged to the Mindak's own household. They had been sons of cousins and nephews. Loida told him to expect a cruel death. Gacioch gleefully confirmed her contention.
The demon let up on the cussing and fussing. His game, now, was to describe at length, and in loving detail, the sophistication of the tortures to be found in the Mindak's dungeons. Ahlert's family was sacred, at least by their own decree.
"Don't you ever shut up?" Gathrid demanded. "Right now Theis Rogala is looking good."
The demon grinned and babbled on.
Gathrid shrugged off the threats. "Ahlert can't want me any worse than before. Loida? Your father is really Franaker Huthsing? The infamous Sheriff of Rigdon?"
"Infamous? Look, friend ..."
"He was infamous on our side of the border." He had been afraid his identity would frighten the girl. She grew relaxed instead.
"Heck, we're neighbors. Almost kin. What went on between our fathers doesn't seem very important now, does it?"
"Not when you look at it from a forest in the heart of Ventimiglia, no."
The exchange of identities occurred during their second day together, while they paused at the forest's edge and Gathrid quietly debated going afoot once more. Before, Loida had tagged along in silence while Gacioch had done the chattering. For his part, Gathrid had been too preoccupied to worry about the girl or demon.
By now an alarm would have spread throughout Ventimiglia's ruling class. The hunt would be up.
Could he reach the Library before the pursuit overtook him?
The city Dedera was the obstacle. Daubendiek should see him through the countryside. Out here, sheer distance would keep the enemy from gathering in number. But the city, with its quarter million people, could throw an army across his path.
He saw no way, now, to conceal his presence and destination. He decided to retain the horses and try for speed.
A dozen riders passed through a field a quarter mile away, boredly watching the wood. To Gathrid's surprise, Gacioch kept his mouth shut while they were within hearing.
"Why didn't you yell?" Gathrid demanded.
"I like you, boy. I've gotten attached to you."
"Liar."
"Goodie! You noticed. That'll be a plus mark on my record when I come up for promotion." He snickered evilly. "Actually, I'm just lazy. When they do catch you, they'll catch me, too. Means I'll have to go back to work. You should only know how rare vacations are in- my corner of Hell."
Gathrid gave the head an uncertain look. It was hard to tell when the demon meant what he Said, or was just joking. Then he laughed.
It was the first time he had done so since the Mindak's invasion of Gudermuth. "Then your wickednesses include sloth?"
"My strong point." Gacioch spoke sourly. He had lost interest in conversation.
Gathrid turned to Loida. "It's going to get rough. I'm going to try to outrun them.''
Her fear and awe were evaporating. "I can keep up with any Gudermuther."
"Is that the kind of crack I'm going to have to live with from now on? Maybe I should've left you where I found you. Let's go."
They had ridden less than a mile when they encountered another patrol. Though armed and aware that they had found their quarry, the Ventimiglians refused combat. They drifted off into a field while Gathrid passed.
"Why did they do that?" Loida asked.
"I don't know. I don't like it." He watched the patrol return to the road a respectful distance behind them. "They're showing too much good sense." They were, his more experienced memories assured him, acting according to some prearrangement. There would be big trouble nearer Dedera. "I may have made a mistake."
Gacioch broke into laughter. "That you did, boy. When you were dumb enough to interfere with the girl hunt."
Gathrid glanced at the sun. It was a long way from setting. He had miscalculated. He should have stayed hidden till nightfall. If they guessed his destination ... They would waste no time chasing him. They would wait at the Library.
He recalled the flight from Gudermuth to Bilgoraj. Theis had done all the thinking. ... He was on his own now. The Ventimiglians were in no hurry this time. They were confident. Because he no longer had the dwarf to help outwit them?
He hated admitting it. He missed Rogala.
He would do without! He wasn't stupid. And he had scores of advisers perched on the shoulders of his mind. He had the dead to guide him. He was a necromancer who divined within himself.
His Toal chuckled.
The party trailing him grew stronger. Dust clouds rose on roads paralleling his own. Several times he saw men in dark armor waiting off the highway, forewarned and ready to join his escort. How long before they felt strong enough to close in?
Their plans did not seem to include immediate engagement. The party behind closed up as darkness gathered, but made no threatening move. Gathrid estimated their number at two hundred.
A tidbit of stolen memory bobbed up in his mind. The Hudyma River lay only a few miles ahead. It was one of Ventimiglia's greatest rivers. This road would span it on a narrow, fortified bridge.
The fortification would make a good anvil against which to hammer him.
But there was a tributary to be crossed first, a mile this side of the Hudyma.
It was thoroughly dark when they reached the first stream. Gathrid had galloped ahead of the Ventimiglians. Now he swung off his mount, helped Loida descend, grabbed Daubendiek and Gacioch.
He slapped the horses back into action. He knew they would not run far. They were exhausted. But even a quarter mile would be a help.
They concealed themselves beneath the bridge. The horsemen who poured overhead seemed to form an endless stream. Gacioch again held his tongue.
Gathrid knew he had very little time. Clutching Loida's hand, he ran downstream. "Come on. Hurry."
"I'm tired," she complained, then saved her breath for flight.
They were lucky. Gathrid stumbled onto a boat not far downstream. It was well-hidden and guarded by a quiet but savage dog. "The owner of this thing can't be no solid citizen," Gacioch observed.
"A fisherman would keep his boat pulled up by his hut.'", The dog growled till it got wind of Gathrid. Then it slunk silently away. Gathrid pushed Loida into the boat and shoved off as the Ventimiglians returned to the bridge.
The current kept Gathrid ahead of the pursuit. He reached the sluggish Hudyma within an hour.
Clumsily, he started rowing for the far bank.
"I knew it was too good to last," Loida grumbled as he beached the craft. "I was hoping we'd drift for a while. This river is headed home."