They made camp that third day under overhanging branches which dripped an unpleasant waxy sap from their newly budded scarlet sporecones. A small stream trickled along one side, allowing the horses and ge-wolves to drink. That night they sent their ge-eagles roving around the peaks and swooping through the valleys. The big birds had a trait Edeard had never known of before, a near-perfect night-sight. There were no colours to the vision he received from them, the world they flew over was drawn in shades of grey, but still the features were sharp and true. Edeard could see small creatures scuttling along oblivious to the birds gliding silently overhead.
'You're still young, you can still become an apprentice to the Blue Tower yet, Topar taunted when Edeard remarked upon the trait. Like the Weapons Guild, the Masters of the Blue Tower kept secrets that might work to their advantage.
The ge-eagles found nothing that night. Topar and Edeard called them back in the early hours to rest before breaking camp early the next day.
Edeard woke to the sound of Dinlay cursing heavily, hopping about on one foot as he held his other boot high. His glasses were still on the roll he used as a pillow, so his face was screwed up as he squinted at the boot. 'Ladydamnit!
Everyone else was lifting their heads, using farsight to scan round, anxious they'd been discovered. Everyone apart from Macsen who was on watch. He was unperturbed, just sitting on an old fallen trunk watching Dinlay with cool amusement.
'Bloody Honious! Dinlay took a bad hop backwards, and tripped on a small rock. He landed hard on his arse and let out a distressed grunt. Edeard winced in sympathy as the flare of pain burst out of his friend's mind.
'What? What? Dinlay spluttered.
'You okay back there? Macsen called in a voice that was far too calm. It triggered a suspicious grin on Edeard's face. When he pushed his farsight into Dinlay's boot he found a mush in the toe that had been a utog beetle, a native insect with a particularly prickly carapace.
'Did you…? an outraged Dinlay gasped. 'Was that you…?
'Me what? Macsen replied innocently.
The others were chuckling now as Dinlay started shivering, partly from the bruise on his buttocks and partly from the cold; he was dressed only in a thin shirt and cotton under-trousers.
'May the Lady crap on you from a great height, Dinlay muttered darkly. His third hand pulled his glasses on to his face, then began scraping the squashed remains of the beetle out of his boot.
'Children, children, Fresage said with a shake of his head. He pushed his blanket back and rose ponderously, flexing his arms to work out the knots earned from sleeping on rough ground.
Edeard pulled on a thick sweater of his own and clambered to his feet. He never could get comfortable just lying on the ground. A careful farsight examination of his own boots revealed they were unused by nesting insects, and he pulled them on.
Topar had snatched up a pistol as soon as he'd woken. Now he gave Macsen a disapproving glance and clicked the safety catch back on.
Boloton and Larby started rolling up their sleeping blankets. Now his boot was clean, Dinlay transferred his attention to his toe. Several utog spikes were sticking through his woollen socks. He removed them one at a time.
'Well done, Edeard said to Macsen. 'Just how I envisaged a District Master would behave.
Verini was grinning along with the rest of them. 'How did you three ever clear the city of gangs? he mused quietly.
Macsen flashed Edeard a profoundly guilty smirk.
'You're so pathetic, Dinlay grumbled.
'Got to do something to stay awake, Macsen murmured. He pulled a kettle off the little stove that burned Jamolar oil. "lea anyone?
'You do have a use, Fresage mocked.
'Few and far between, but those I have I excel at.
Edeard and Dinlay exchanged a look. 'Not what Kanseen says, Dinlay said smugly, and pulled his boot on.
Edeard took his cup over to Macsen. 'You're an arse, he said, grinning as his friend poured out the boiling water.
'Yep, and that's just on the plus side.
Edeard stirred in one of the hand-tied linen tea packets which the tenth floor housekeeper had made up for him. The others had ribbed him mercilessly about those, but they wound up 'borrowing' them at every meal.
'How much longer is this going to take? Dinlay asked as he held his cup out.
'For all this is empty land, there aren't that many places the bandits can hide out in, Topar said, drinking down his own tea. 'Shepherds use the high pastures for grazing, and it's turning cold up here now.
'They will have found themselves half a dozen remote camp sites, Fresage said. 'And they'll shift between them.
Edeard gave the valley to the south a shrewd gaze. The Donsori Mountains weren't the highest range on Querencia, yet the snowcaps were creeping downwards again as the last weeks of summer passed away. And the forests that smothered the mid-slopes were changing colour, the fronds on the dominant kalkand trees were shading towards beige as they began to contract. Below the treeline, the gentler lower slopes had a yellow tinge. Grass deprived of water during the dry summer months was just starting to taste rain again. Clumps chewed down by terrestrial sheep and cattle along with the roaming flocks of native chamalans were putting up their last wispy sprouts before the snows came once more. The soil on these remote lands wasn't rich enough to support farms. There were a few isolated cattle stations but that was all. Though with the peaks fencing away clouds the air was beautifully clear. Visibility stretched for miles.
'If they're to move round unnoticed it will have to be through the trees, Larby said.
'And the camps will have to be within range of villages, Topar agreed. He pointed at the summit of Mount Alvice at the south-eastern end of the valley. 'There's a plateau beyond the crest, with several villages. Sandmarket is a day's ride beyond that.
'That kind of area is a possible for them, Boloton agreed. 'Secluded but in range of Regentfleet.
Edeard thought they were right, but didn't say anything. He was content with someone else making all the decisions for once. Topar hadn't said how long he was prepared to stay out here trying to track down the bandits, but they were carrying enough food for a fortnight.
Once they were back in the saddle, Topar led them onwards towards Mount Alvice. As before, they clung to the treeline to avoid being spotted. They were assuming the bandits would be using ge-eagles, and probably dogs. All of them had listened intently to Edeard on the first day when he told them about the tamed fastfoxes he'd encountered back in Rulan province.
By midday they were half way round the mountain's slopes, when Topar stopped them. Their ge-eagles came flashing down to settle among the treetops. Verini, who was using the ge-eagle with ordinary vision had spied two similar ge-eagles in the air above the shallow pass into the plateau country. The pair of them were orbiting high above the stony track, soaring round in a huge circle.
'Definitely keeping watch, Topar said after they'd watched the ge-eagles for over half an hour. 'We'll have to go through the trees to get past them.
Everyone dismounted and began to lead their ge-horses into the trees. Edeard went last, sweeping his farsight along the track through the pass to see if he could locate the bandits instructing the ge-eagles. There was no sign of them, not even if he used the counter to concealment — though that wasn't reliable at any distance. They were either on the other side of the pass, or hidden behind some thick rock.
Their ge-wolves prowled through the forest of kalkand trees, using natural senses to scent anyone hidden amid the undergrowth. It was dank and cold under the boughs, as if the tall leaden trunks were somehow caging a winter's mist. The cold soon wormed its way through their jackets and trousers to chill their limbs. Everyone had to use their third hand to ward off low branches and clinging damp fronds. The undergrowth of straggly bushes stunted by the lack of light tore at their legs, slowing them further. An endless canopy of scarlet sporecones dripped sap on to their hats which then dribbled in sluggish rivulets down on to their shoulders.