Part 34 (1/2)

He looked up at the bodies slowly twisting. A trio of magpies stood on the shoulders of one carca.s.s that had a rope punched through its ribs. The birds jostled each other, flapped about, and pecked at the old flesh on the head.

Hunger knew this place, but the name slipped away.

He walked to the road. The scent lay here like a river. It took him a few moments walking up and back to discover the direction the boy had traveled.

He tried to guess how far behind he was. Not far. Perhaps no more than an hour.

The smell of horses and men drew his attention. Hunger looked up the road. He couldn't see them, but he could see the haze of dust they kicked up. Riders were coming fast.

He did not want to draw attention, did not want to delay reaching the boy, so he slipped off the trail and squatted behind a thick clump of brush.

The riders soon crested the hill. Six of them wearing Shoka colors, two wearing Fir-Noy. He watched them gallop by, watched them fade in the distance.

Hunger stepped out of his hiding place and suddenly knew where he was: this was Gallow's Grove. A piece of the map in his mind locked into place. He knew where this road led, knew it would take him back to the hills where the boy lived.

Hunger checked once more in both directions then began to lope down the road after his prey.

27.

The Gla.s.s Master's Daughters WHEN THEY ARRIVED at the crossroads, Talen decided he'd jogged far enough. His legs didn't feel tired, but Talen's thirst had steadily grown since the run in with the riders, and it felt like the back of his throat was going to cleave to the font.

He dipped the water ladle into the small barrel lashed to the side of the wagon and drank. He'd drawn this fresh from the well this morning. It was warm and clean and tasted of the oak barrel, but it did not quench his thirst. He took another drink and then a third.

This was an unnatural thirst. ”That baker should be hung,” he said. ”These come-backs are killing me.”

Nettle gave him a look that said they both knew this wasn't come-backs. ”I'm worried about more search parties,” said Nettle. ”If Shoka were looking for us, then you know the Fir-Noy are. They've probably sent riders to search the roads from Whitecliff to your farmstead.”

”Fabbis,” Talen said with disgust. He pointed at the crossroads. ”So which path do we risk?”

The crossroads sat at the juncture of five roads. It was a large oval that often was the place for gatherings or a small market. Usually a Shoka tinsmith camped here. His rat dog would lie in the shade under the wagon while he sat with his tin goods and tools under a blue awning that folded out of the side. Today there was nothing here but gra.s.shoppers and the rutted and dry roads stretching out from the place like spidery fingers.

”Why risk any of them?” asked Nettle. ”We should leave the wagon and set out on foot through the woods.”

”That's reasonable,” said Talen. ”Except the woods are most likely already full of sleth hunters who have set a mult.i.tude of snares and traps. Besides, we can't leave Iron Boy tied to a post, which means we'll have him clomping along with us. I'd dare say the woods are more dangerous than the roads. Besides, it makes us look guilty.”

”It makes you look guilty. I'm just along for the ride.”

”Thanks,” said Talen, ”you're always such a tremendous pillar of support.”

Nettle sighed with exaggerated humility. ”I suppose I am. Especially when I've been promised a throttling.”

Talen waved Nettle off. ”Look, I've got a better idea-what we need is an escort.”

Nettle looked at Talen as if he'd just sprouted a cabbage out his ear. ”An escort?” Nettle asked. He motioned at the empty field. ”Who are you going to get? The gra.s.shoppers?”

”If we were close to your home, we'd get a number of your father's men to go with us. But we're not. So we get someone who is a friend of your father's.”

”And who would that be? I say we go through the woods. If we run into anyone, we tell them we were hunting sleth. We just don't tell them we've found them already.”

”We don't have any black cloth for armbands. And even if we did, we have no tokens. Anybody we came across would spot us in a minute. And Da will kill me if I leave the wagon and all the good are pilfered.” Talen pointed to the road at the far end of the crossroads. ”We're going to the gla.s.s master's.” A powerful man with many men in his employ.

Talen would not have considered this, but Uncle Argoth had recommended Talen to a number of respectable Mokaddian families, including Bartem the gla.s.s master. Furthermore, the gla.s.s master had expressed some interest should Talen get his Shoka clan wrist.

Uncle Argoth had once told Talen that his mother's Shoka blood would eventually overpower the Koramite blood he'd gotten from Da. This, of course, had incited Da, but then that's why Uncle Argoth had said it in the first place. The two of them liked to dig each other as much as he and Nettle did. But lately, Da had come around to Uncle Argoth's arguments that what Koramites needed was some binding to the Clans. Talen was almost too old to apprentice himself out, but there were other ways Uncle Argoth might find a place for him among the Shoka. It wouldn't be a powerful position, but it would be better than being an unconnected Koramite.

Just at that moment, a Shoka boy of about ten emerged from one of the roads into the clearing. He was holding a throwing stick in one hand and two dead ducks in the other. He was a little short and wide for his age.

”Lords,” said Talen. All they needed was someone to see them.

”Keep calm,” Nettle said and hailed the boy.

The boy acknowledged them by waving his throwing stick then headed towards them. When he came close, he said, ”There are men looking for you. Hunters.”

”Oh?” Nettle asked.

”A group of about ten Fir-Noy,” said the boy. He pointed up one of the roads. ”They accosted me. Asked me what I'd seen.”

”What did you tell them?”

”I told them I hadn't seen nothing but ducks.”

”You keep telling them that,” said Nettle.

”They accused you of slethery, but I spoke up, told them Captain Argoth was worth all ten of them.”

Talen doubted the boy had said any such thing. He was currying favor, which meant he might be thinking the exact opposite.

”Fir-Noy rot,” said Nettle. ”Always blaming their troubles on someone else. This whole sleth madness started in one of their own villages. Not ours.”

”Aye,” said the boy. ”They may start it, but we'll finish it. My Da and I, we've got ourselves half-a-dozen traps set in the woods. We're going to catch those hatchlings. The Shoka will win the day as we always do.”

”You're a brave one,” said Nettle, ”walking out here on your own.”

The boy puffed up a bit.

”If enough Shoka take the initiative like you and your da,” Nettle said, ”we'll have the sleth for sure. And if any other Fir-Noy come by, you've seen nothing but ducks.”

”Aye,” said the boy and raised the end of his throwing stick to the side of his nose.

Nettle flicked the reins and directed Iron Boy toward the gla.s.s master's road.

Talen considered his cousin: he'd handled that situation well. Of course, the boy was still a risk. He could be planning to run to the Fir-Noy or Shoka as soon and he and Nettle were out of sight.

When the boy was out of earshot, Nettle said, ”I hope your gla.s.s master is willing.”