Part 41 (1/2)

”Her name is Purity, not Sleth Woman,” River corrected. ”And we have no idea what the creature is, much less who it belongs to.”

Talen heaved a sigh. At least there was that. Then something struck him. ”If I couldn't keep a secret yesterday, what has changed so I can keep it today?”

”Nothing,” said River. ”A Seeker would ransack your mind as easily as you would a cupboard. But, as I said, we are leaving. In time you will learn the skill.”

”Leaving? But what about Da?”

River looked down. ”We are bound by an oath,” she said. ”Da-” Her voice faltered. She closed her eyes and regained control of her emotions. When she opened them they were wet with tears. ”Ke has been set to watch him. Once he's a.s.sessed the situation, he will meet us at the refuge where I'm taking you. We'll see what we can do at that time. But you need to prepare yourself because Da might not be coming back.”

Prunes was roused by a sharp dig into his ribs.

”It seems we have ourselves a situation,” said Gid.

Gid had already wakened him twice. Once to inform him that he'd told a pack of Fir-Noy they already had the place under observation. Another time to watch the spectacle of two boys in a wagon pull into the yard. If this was another false alarm, Prunes was going to throw the man off the side of the mountain. And he didn't care about blowing their cover.

Prunes sat up. He was wrapped in his soldier's sleeping sash. ”This had better be good.”

”Oh, it's the tart's delight. They've been busy as bees down there all night. In and out, lamps burning. And someone interesting just went into the barn, but he'll be back out.”

”Who?”

”That girl who told the Bailiff she was from Koramtown. And there's also a boy with her that can't find his way unless she leads him about by the arm.”

”A blind boy?”

”Aye.”

Prunes blinked the sleep out of his eyes. The moon was not large, but it was big enough to see shapes. The door to the house stood wide open, light spilling out into the yard. Someone exited the old sod house and walked toward the wagon in the yard, holding a lamp in front. That had to be the older sister. She made her way around the buildings and entered the house. That's when two figures stepped from behind the barn, walking boldly as you please.

One was a girl. And the other, the smaller one, was a boy she led by the hand. Even from here Talen could see the boy was blind.

Prunes was wide awake now.

”Busy as bees,” said Gid. ”And preparing, in haste it seems, to depart.”

Their duty was to watch, but if they left now, it was likely they'd lead a hunt back to a deserted farmstead.

”I say we don't take any chances,” said Gid and held up his knife. ”We take them one-by-one.”

”This isn't an extermination. The lords will want someone to question.”

”We'll do our best,” said Gid. ”But if things begin to sour, I'm not going to hesitate. Besides, all we need to do is kill one of them as an example and the rest will comply.”

”And who will that be?”

”Who else? The blind one.”

Gid was perhaps too eager, but he made sense. These youth might look like babes; however, a callow youth, given the right opportunity, could kill a man just as easily as a veteran of many battles. In fact, they might need to kill more than the little one. But that didn't matter. They only needed to keep one alive for the Questioners.

Prunes nodded agreement.

”You and I, friend,” said Gid, ”are going to be rich.”

”Not if we don't get you downwind,” said Prunes. He motioned for Gid to lead, and the two began to pick their way quietly downhill.

31.

A Broken Wing HUNGER STOOD AT the edge of the wood. The scent of the burning boy lay in the hollows and ravines here as thick as a fog. He looked over a bend in a river. Beyond it lay a farmstead. That's where the boy would be, waiting liking a fat chicken in his coop.

He began to descend the bank to the water when a woman came out of the house carrying a lamp. He glimpsed her face for a moment in the light as she walked across the yard to the well. The gait of her walk, the angle of her shoulders-it pulled a memory into his mind.

He knew her. He was sure of it . . .

Moments pa.s.sed.

She drew water then returned to the house. Hunger stood in the shadows still as a heron stalking frogs.

Then the name slide into his mind as softly as dew: River.

Yes, that was her name. And with that name a number of strong memories rose in his mind. He followed them, and every one of them ended with this: she'd held his hand once, and he had been unable to speak. Not because he found her so lovely. No, it was not his desire for her that had stolen his words; it was grat.i.tude. He remembered one spring evening in a bower, blindfolded, waiting for River who had worked so hard to make the match, waiting in the moonlight with the lilacs in bloom, their fine scent perfuming the night. Waiting to hear the feet on the path, the rustling of skirts, and then River taking his hand and putting Rosemary's warm, strong hand in it. River removed the blindfold so he could see Rosemary standing there before him, holding the flowered crown that meant she'd accepted his offer of marriage, looking at him with those laughing, moon-sparkled eyes.

Rosemary, the carpenter's daughter, the face of the woman he'd remembered after eating the man who had been humming as he washed himself. The man who was called Larther. And now Hunger had a name to hang that sorrow upon. He stood motionless, contemplating the horror he'd become.

The water ran below him; three deer came to drink and left.

And then he realized that River was the one he needed. Her brother, the burning son, was nothing. He wasn't even part of the Order yet. But River, she was skilled at all sorts of weavings. She would know the workings of the collar. She would fix it. And he would bind the Mother. Bind her and destroy her.

River had been a beauty to him, then a friend, and finally a sister. She would not run away; she would see though his rough form. He was sure of it. River would help him.

He took a step toward the water, and something moved downwind of the house.

He peered closer. Two men crept along in the gra.s.s, their helmets and knives s.h.i.+ning in the moonlight.

Whatever their intent, they would flush River like untrained dogs flush quail from the brush. Except once River ran, you did not catch her.

Those two would have to go. Silently, but they would have to go. Hunger waited to see if there were more of them, and when he saw they came alone, he descended the riverbank and quietly entered the dark waters.

Prunes stood in the shadow of a tree. Across the yard, Gid peered between the cracks of a shutter on that side of the house just to make sure there were only five of them. Prunes scratched his neck, and when he looked back at Gid something monstrous and dark had risen, it seemed, from the very earth.

It was bigger than a man. Hairy in patches. No, not hair. Gra.s.s. Then Prunes recognized it from the stories of the creature at Whitecliff.

”Gid!” he shouted.