Kem struck like a snake, bit two of Gull's fingers like a bulldog.
Gull hissed, jabbed at Kem's eyes with his two left fingers. The bodyguard spit out Gull's hand to avoid being blinded. He punched Gull in the chest, the belly, the throat. Gull stopped that assault by whapping Kem's swollen ear. The bodyguard gurgled with pain.
Then Kem lowered his head and rammed Gull hard in the belly, shoving with both feet. Gull fetched up against a wheel. He'd been caught with his own trick, using the wagon as a wall. Kem swiped at Gull's balls, and Gull tried to knee him back, but they were too tangled to do much harm.
Then a noose floated over Gull's head and tightened on his windpipe.
Breathless, Gull's hands flew to his throat. He clawed for the noose, skinned his own throat, but already the cord had sunk deep. He panicked, kicked, thrashed, slammed his butt against the wagon wheel to get free. But he was held fast.
The bully had a partner, his foggy brain screamed.
Now that Gull had stopped fighting, Kem knew he had a partner, too. The scarred man took advantage. Hauling back a fist, he slammed Gull full in the belly. It rocked him, jarred his throat, but there was no way for his air to escape. Gull tried to kick Kem away, but was so close-pressed he couldn't raise his knee or foot.
The firelight dimmed, as if someone had smothered it.
That's my vision, Gull thought. Blacking out. Forever.
He let go his aching throat and lashed backward with his elbow, skinned it on rough wood, grazed the assassin's arm. He heard a guffaw. His next flail was feebler. Kem smashed his jaw, blacked his eye. But Gull had so much pain from his throat and lungs, he barely felt it.
All my troubles will end in a moment, he thought. Who'll look after Greensleeves?
Above the roaring in his ears, he heard a dull thunk. As if bursting from under deep water, he could breathe. The cord had gone slack.
Gull ripped the strangling noose from his neck. He retched, wheezed, gagged. Kem guessed what had happened. He hopped back to get clear.
Not fast enough.
Still retching, Gull lowered his head and charged.
His skull collided with Kem's jaw. A satisfying clack sounded. He butted the man again, grappled his shoulders by his sturdy leather armholes. Grunting, he spun the man.
Kem tumbled into the firepit. The cookware had been moved to one side, so there was only a stone-lined trough full of dying embers. Dying, but still hot. Trying to brace his fall, Kem drove his hands deep into ashes and red coals. He screamed.
Gull hopped up and crashed both knees onto the man's back, driving his hands deeper, buckling his knees. With both fists, Gull clouted the back of his bony skull-once, twice, again.
But when he raised them a fourth time, they proved too heavy. The black night went blacker, and he pitched over backward, thoroughly spent.
A sandaled toe prodded his ribs.
Gull opened one swollen eye. A craggy salt-and-pepper face grinned at him. Morven the sailor. "Enough playtime, children. Time for bed."
Groaning, Gull rolled over, found his feet. Kem was gone from the firepit. But a pair of feet projected from under a wheel. Gull crawled over, recognized another bodyguard, a handsome dark man the cook called Pretty Boy.
"Chad," said Morven. "A friend to Kem. Probably his only one. Quick with a garrotte, a strangling noose."
"What-" Gull coughed, swallowed fire. "What- happened?"
Chuckling, Morven hefted a crossbow. "I was cruising the perimeter, heard a noise by the chuck wagon. Figured some sneak thief was out to hook Felda's pies. Gaffed him with this. Wouldn't you know-one of our own. My blunder." He plucked sticky hairs from the crossbow grip.
Gull rubbed his throat. "Does Towser-approve of assassination-amongst his own people?"
Morven fixed his eye on a distant star. "Towser's got too many worries to bother with ours. We work out our little tiffs."
"They're-working out. I'll kill both-and then they'll be good."
"He'd just hire more bullies. Live with what you got. They'll sheer off from now on." Morven propped the crossbow on the water butt, grabbed Chad and hoisted him like a child, dumped him in the back of the men's wagon. Inside, someone protested, "Hey!"
"Sorry." Morven retrieved his crossbow and returned to guard duty.
Lily drifted out of the shadows to brush dirt off Gull's back. "You're hard to kill."
"As long as-Morven's behind me."
She knelt to brush off his legs, straighten his kilt. "More will stand behind you now. No one likes Kem or Chad."
"I'd like-to get some sleep-for a change."
Lily took his hand, led him under the chuck wagon, knelt and straightened his bedroll. "No, you'd like company. Mine."
Gull started to protest, but she tucked him into his blankets and wriggled alongside. "I know, I know. No loving. Just hugging. And maybe some kissing." She mashed her red lips on his bruised ones, slid her tongue into his mouth.
This time, Gull was too weak to fend her off.
The days that followed were all alike. Break camp, travel, eat, travel, set up camp, sleep. Every seventh day they stayed put to rest, but that meant a full day of repairs. Gull had lived all his life in a sedate farming village, with time for naps and gossip and games. He found the rush unsettling. He wondered why the wizard moved so fast, pushed so hard. What secrets or treasures beckoned that wouldn't wait another day or two?
Gull drove, tended stock, worried about wagons, ate, slept, did it all again in his dreams. Occasionally his father or mother would loom from the mists and replay some old joke or story, and Gull awoke with an aching heart, missing them. But by then he was busy again.
As they neared hill country in the north, the forest floor grew rougher. Gentle dips turned into ravines too steep to cross, so had to be circled. Granite ledges came thicker, not just flat spans, but stepped shelves half the height of the wagons. Sometimes the wagoners had to cut saplings and lever the wagons up breaks. Rocks and rough country meant smaller twisted trees, and occasionally Gull had to lop branches, or squat and saw at ankle height so the wagons could pass over the stump. Their pace slowed to a few miles a day.
The scouts still found passage, but it took longer. Often the wagons waited for them to return, then had to backtrack and try somewhere else. They boxed the compass some days, traveling miles in a circle to make one mile northwest.
Lily rode with Gull when she could. As long as she answered Towser's beck and call, and did her camp chores, no one cared. Greensleeves wandered into the woods and back out, finding flowers and lizards and birds' eggs, yet always staying within eyeshot, as if she knew Gull would worry.
Kem drove the horses with bandaged hands, and Chad suffered dizzy spells. Both stayed clear of the muleskinner. Conversely, others became friendly, including some of dancing girls, the cook Felda and her choreboy Stiggur, the clerk Knoton, and the nurse Haley. They wished each other a hearty good morning, excluding Kem and Chad with silence. Others remained wrapped in their own worlds, including the silent bodyguard, Oles; the bard, Ranon Spiritsinger; the astrologer, old Kakulina.
And of course, Towser.
"What does he do in that wagon all day and night?" asked Gull. "It must be damned rank and cramped. What keeps him busy?"
Lily arched an eyebrow. "Well, I could tell you what he does with us dancing girls, but you wouldn't learn much. His other interests are a secret. I know he has a scrying crystal. He's often so mesmerized by it, he doesn't see me enter."
"What does he see inside that?"
"I don't know. I peeked once but saw nothing."
Gull pondered that. "But what else? A man can't stare at bubbles in a glass all day, can he?"