Part 8 (1/2)

”Vidon, did you see that?” the young woman guard said excitedly, wheeling her dnu around.

”They're not bihwadi,” the first youth returned eagerly. ”They're wolves.” He yanked his dnu carelessly back to the center of the road and twisted to peer back at the Grey Ones.

Nori glanced at the two city guards, and almost slid from the dnu as she did so. She was straddling the edge of the saddle's f.l.a.n.g.e, just in front of the dnu's belly segment. She scooted closer to the older man, but it didn't help. Her balance was off, precarious, as if she were unsuited for riding. She grabbed the guard's belt to steady herself and cursed at her undisciplined mind. Again, it wasn't her; it was Rishte.

Four legs, not two. Low balance, not tall. Ruthlessly, she clamped down on the fragile bond. There was instant relief for her body. She ignored the frustrated howl that rang through her mind. Now her muscles knew what to do, and she slid easily into the riding beast's rhythm.

The first youth wrenched his dnu around so that he could see the creatures behind them. ”It's an escort,”

he guessed, forgetting to keep his voice low. At a hard glance from Nori's rider, the youth reined back into position, but he was unfazed by the discipline. ”I'm Vidon neBerum,” he introduced excitedly.

”Subrank student to Gankira and Lee, Tamrani Ser, of the Third House, Liegtha. She's Gariala maStura, subrank student to Gankira and Lee, Flint-dau and Gla.s.s-dau. You're riding behind neLivek.”

With her mind caught in the wolves, the t.i.tles washed over her without meaning. She recognized only the sense of the words, that the woman was high guild, and the young man Tamrani, and that both were out of Sidisport. They were anathema to Ariye, then. She nodded a tense acknowledgment and searched her memory for the more familiar name, neLivek. He was perhaps eighty or ninety, thick with aged muscle, but not yet showing the thin white hair of someone well over a hundred. She'd felt the twisted scar on the palm of his hand when he'd taken her wrist. Along with that, he wore a southern-style harness with a double rack-quiver.

”NeLivek of the Two Seeds?” she asked over the man's shoulder. Her voice was hoa.r.s.e and dry from running and too much snarling at Rishte.

”Aye.” He was surprised, and he spat the seeds he'd been sucking to the side of the road. ”Though it's been a while since anyone called me that. I go by Tysil neLivek in the trade lanes.” He'd gotten the other rep-name forty years ago as an outrider with a Diton caravan. It was a wry reminder that the cozar remembered a man's reputation long after he himself had misplaced it.

NeLivek glanced over his shoulder, then lost the beginnings of his grin. Up close, the blood streaks were clear. He made a subtle signal at the man who was cantering back from the front, but kept his voice casual as he untied his bota bag and pa.s.sed it to Nori. ”This is Hunter,” he introduced. He ignored Vidon's look when he didn't bother with the formalities. ”He's in charge of this spit-poor excuse for an escort. We're outriding the cozar family of Rocknight Styne. They broke a wheel and fell behind the train.”

She nodded as she uncapped the bota bag. That explained the number of outriders. An Ell wouldn't usually hold up an entire caravan for one disabled wagon, but he would dispatch as many guards as he could to escort a fallback till it rejoined the safety of the line.

The taller man, Hunter, judged the way her legs kept twitching as if she were still racing the black road.

She was jumpy as a Grey One. He half expected her to startle back into the dark at the sound of his voice. ”Warm night for running,” he commented.

Nori jerked another nod. Her breathing was still hard, and she did not trust her voice.

Hunter scowled as he realized just why Vidon was staring so blatantly. That sling barely covered her.

”Vidon, Gariala, ride forward,” he ordered curtly. With an arch look from Gariala, the two reluctantly obeyed, leaving the rear guard to neLivek. The tall man stripped off his overvest. ”We'll stop in ten or fifteen minutes at the Clever Springs wayside.” He held out the garment. ”This should do for now, unless you need a s.h.i.+rt before you wash.”

Nori glanced down and wanted to roll her eyes. As casual as scouts had to be with each other, one still had to make allowances for teens. ”I'll wait,” she said shortly. She shrugged the proffered vest on over the sling.

Hunter nodded his approval. As with most experienced ring-runners, she didn't put prudishness ahead of safety. Besides, the treated leather wiped off like chancloth, although-and Hunter hid a grin at the thought-his mother would swoon if she knew how her expensive gift had been baptized. Considering the state of this ring-runner's skin, had the woman asked for a s.h.i.+rt, it would have been stained beyond saving. ”Raiders or worlags?” he asked.

”Aye,” Nori answered obliquely.

”Both?” He was startled in spite of himself.

She nodded and drew the vest in more closely. It was body-warm and well softened, and it smelled of man and dnu. It wasn't standardchovas gear, not with that fancy edging and tooling as fine as any she'd seen. Her family was well off, but even they didn't wear things like this on the trail. This vest would cost two months of scouting wages. Rich, then, she thought, but riding guard for a fallback wagon? She slanted Hunter a look.

He knew what she saw: a man maybe five, six years older than herself, with the typical broad shoulders and muscular build of a southern Ariyen. His hair was so dark it was nearly black, and long enough in the Ariyen style that he braided it back and tied it with a leather thong for travel. It wasn't an affectation, as it would have been on Fentris the Fop. He just hated the bother of getting it cut.

In the sunlight, there would be hints of red and gold in his hair, and his eyes would be a sharp, clear green. In the moonlight, his face looked angled and planed, cold, perhaps even harsh. His mother had told him more than once that he could have been as handsome as his brothers, except that his chin was too square, his eyebrows too thick, and his nose too arrogant to appeal to any woman. When he'd escorted his sisters to events, he made them look as delicate as three-thread lace. His face hardened at the thought of his sister, and he fingered his layered belt again. Jianan had almost paid with her life for the notes that Hunter now carried.

Nori's eyes flicked to the fingers that tapped the thick belt, and Hunter's hand stopped abruptly. His green eyes narrowed at Nori. Only four hours ago, Fentris Shae had caught up to him and handed over Jianan's notes. Now this woman came out of the night with a tale of outrunning worlags? Fentris knew the city like the back of his hand, but knew nothing about the forest. The fop would never have noticed if he'd been followed. That left Hunter here, late in the night, with seven untried city youths at his side, two years of reports on his person, a possible murderer at his back, and all of them kays from the caravan.

Nori caught the sudden sharpness in his gaze and went still.

From behind, Rishte bristled.Danger. He watches. Bare your fangs.

Hunter started to speak, then stopped himself. She was poised not for the kill, but to flee. She had reacted as if he was a threat to her, not she a danger to him. He said softly, ”We mean no harm to you.”

Nori tried to smile, but her lips curled ferally instead. Rishte's instincts were too close.

Someone called back from the front, and Hunter didn't look away from her as he ordered sharply, ”Hold position. We'll stop at the wayside.”

Nori forced herself to sit back. He had an unconscious authority that rea.s.sured her more than his words ever could. Her father had the same manner, as did her uncles. Great, she thought. He was one of the perfect ones, like Payne. Tall, skilled, confident, strong-his arm muscles were corded like twistwood.

He probably couldn't even spellfear. Even his clothes were perfect: full-cut for easy movement, dull colors, and varied patterns to deceive the eye in the forest. His riding boots were tesselskin. Tough, light, breathable, and with just enough give that they never seemed to bind. Expensive as oldEarth fox, and not usually worn on rough trails. He was either too ignorant to realize just how badly they could be gouged up, or too wealthy to care what they would cost to replace.

Hunter watched the emotions flicker across her face, and the way she s.h.i.+fted to protect the sling. ”It's usually riders, not trail-runners, who carry bulk,” he prodded casually.

The grey growled in the back of her mind. Protect. Defend.

Nori tried not to snarl back.I will not let him harm them, she answered. But she adjusted the borrowed vest carefully so she could slip the papers out of the sling and into the vest pocket before showing him what she carried.

Hunter leaned to look and sucked in a breath. ”Wolf cubs,” he breathed. He'd never seen any before.

He resisted the urge to reach out and run his finger along one of the blind b.a.l.l.s of fur. Somehow, he knew the Grey Ones who slunk behind would not have allowed that contact. No wonder she was so defensive.

”How old?”

”Four days. Birthed over near Stone Ridge.” Her breath was still shaky, but she grinned suddenly. ”And s.n.a.t.c.hed from the jaws of a worlag pack with all the luck of the moons.”

With the smile, her face was transformed. From a smudged, shadowed visage, she suddenly seemed to glow. Hunter felt his jaw drop. He closed it with a snap. Up on the wagon box was Rocknight Styne's niece, a shapely girl who would become a sultry woman. This lean creature would never be called something as simple as beautiful. Her chin was too strong to be piquant. Her eyes were dark and slightly slanted, as if she were more wolf than human. The scratch that marred her left cheek made him want to lean in and lick that thin line of blood, taste the salt and heat of her. His loins tightened. It wasn't her features that arrested his gaze. It was the way her eyes danced when she smiled. There was an intensity about her that made the other girls in his group seem pale and fatigued. A moonmaid, he thought with an odd bit of whimsy. His thoughts crystallized abruptly. Dark eyes, black hair, strong chin, and high cheekbones. Moonlight and night, and wolves on her heels?

She was the image of the Wolfwalker Dione, if one imagined Dione without scars, and if Dione were thirty years younger. Competent as a ten-year scout, though, if she'd run up on neLivek without the man even knowing until she was right beside him. Experienced, yes, and brave-or stupid-enough to run trail alone under worlag moons with a wolf pack at her heels. He could think of no wolfwalker other than Dione who could come close to this girl's description. Then again, when wolves Called, men Answered.

Dione had had a daughter.

He kept his voice casual. ”Wolf cubs, s.n.a.t.c.hed from a pack of worlags? They must have been right on the den.”

She didn't notice his expression. ”We got the cubs out of the den site, but the worlags didn't give up.

They cut us off before we could reach the Chimneys.”

He nodded in turn. The Chimneys weren't really channels in the stone, but rather an ancient facade of fractured basalt that led to a mesalike ridge. There was speculation that the caves that once riddled the ridge might have been home to Aiueven before worlags-and humans-came to the world. Now its shallow, collapsed depressions were a safe haven for anyone who could scramble high enough to be out of the beetle-beasts' reach. ”How in the name of the First House did you stay ahead of them?”

Her voice tightened. ”I didn't. I tried blackthorn thickets, Ironjaw Creek.” She had to talk now, had to get some of the adrenaline out of her system. ”Nothing worked. They had my blood-scent. They wouldn't give up the chase. So we led them to some raiders camped out at Bell Rocks.”

”How did you know they were rai-”

She cut in flatly, ”I found the bodies before I got there. The kill-trail led to the camp.”

NeLivek frowned over his shoulder. ”Moonworms, girl. Let me get this straight. You outran a worlag pack for thirty kays-”