'I don't rightly know. Could be your little book will tell you. Don't care. I ain't a Mystrian.' Nathaniel held a hand up. 'Yep, I was born here. Probably die here, too, iffen there's a God who has a lick of sense. But I ain't a part of their society. Don't want nothing to do with it.'
Owen frowned. 'Then why not just live with the Altashee?'
'There's times, Captain Strake, when a man cain't do what he'd like to do. Cain't escape your history.'
Kamiskwa snorted. 'Not without trying.'
'I reckon, Prince Kamiskwa, you've done forgot your original counsel in this matter.'
Owen hadn't a clue as to what they were talking about, and was equally certain that he'd not get an explanation out of either of them. Nathaniel had seldom spoken about himself. Owen guessed that part of the poking and testing he did was to see how much he could trust Owen. Clearly he'd not made a decision one way or the other and, until then, whatever secrets he harbored would remain hidden.
The soldier couldn't help but smile. He'd been in the man's company for over ten days and could have written down all he knew about him on a single page. Catherine would have scolded him for not having learned more. He'd have explained that men don't talk about things the way women do, and she'd have countered that he was just afraid to ask.
Fear, however, had nothing to do with it. It was respect. He respected Nathaniel's right to privacy. Who he was, what he did, had no effect on the expedition. If it did, if Nathaniel was a drunkard, then they would have had words.
More importantly, the act of not asking built trust. Owen trusted Nathaniel to tell him anything that was important. So far Nathaniel had upheld his part of that bargain. Not asking personal questions became a silent vote of confidence in Nathaniel, engendering more trust.
Owen figured part of Nathaniel's attitude came from society's reaction to something he'd done. Just having children by two women-and Shedashee women at that-to whom he was not married would be enough to raise eyebrows and bring down condemnation. He would have been a right devil to men like Bishop Bumble. Many of those who spoke out against him would be hypocrites. Owen had heard countless superior officers lecture common soldiers on the sins of drink and debauchery, all the while themselves being drunk and just having departed a bordello.
Owen went to sleep thinking on that point and managed, unexpectedly, to sleep through to the last watch. Once the sun rose to splash gold over the lake, the men ate, scattered all signs of their camp, and launched their canoe. Owen sat in the middle as the others propelled the small boat across crystal water.
'I can paddle my share.'
'Don't you be worrying about that. You just keep your eyes on the shoreline.'
'We're beyond range for a shot.'
'I reckon, but I want to know if there's folks watching us.'
Owen retrieved his telescope from his pouch. He swept the shoreline but saw nothing aside from a moose grazing in shallow water. The placid surface reflected the blue sky, save near the shore where the trees' reflection rimmed the lake darkly.
'It looks clear.'
Kamiskwa, from the front of the canoe, grunted a single word. ' Tekskog.'
'Do you think, Kamiskwa? Hain't never been one in this lake afore.' Nathaniel laughed. 'Wouldn't do much good if he saw one.'
Owen sighed. 'Should I be looking for something specific?'
'Well, he's a-wanting you to be looking for a lake monster. Like a big snake, horse's head, lots of coils. The Prince probably put it on your list. He thinks it's a big otter. Very big. Get enough coats out of it for your army, I'm thinking.'
'You're serious?'
'Can't honestly say I've seen one, but I've heard tell of plenty who have.'
Owen would have dismissed the idea save for two things. First, he had seen creatures in Mystria he'd never seen before. Second, what they de-scribed-granted without the fur-was a wurm in its early life stage. If there are wurms here and we can find them, we could raise and train them. The balance of Auropean power would forever be shifted.
Over the next three and a half weeks they paddled over countless lakes and ponds, occasionally camping on islands, but only once making their way by canoe from one large body of water to the other. Mostly they stashed their canoe then trekked overland to the next lake to find another canoe and take a lend of it.
The journey thoroughly amazed Owen. Every day led him into territory completely devoid of any sign of man's passage. He knew it wasn't true, since they found canoes and campsites, but he saw no fences, no houses, and no roads. He had to look hard for places where trees had been cleared. More than once the forest had reclaimed a lot his guides said had been carved out twenty or thirty years before.
Owen studied the Prince's list as they went, but the animals proved elusive. He didn't regret not seeing a jeopard. At night wolves called to each other, competing with loons to be the loudest creatures around a lake. The noises had made him uncomfortable at first, but he learned to like them. Still, he never actually saw a wolf.
They took special notice when the forest went quiet. Kamiskwa and Nathaniel would immediately find cover, check their weapons, and wait to see what was in the vicinity. More than once they heard Ryngian trappers crashing through the brush, all the while remaining undetected themselves. At night, Owen made note of the interlopers' presence in his journal.
Finally they crossed over a low ridge that separated the Bounty and Lindenvale watersheds. They followed a chain of lakes and streams north and by noon, they stood on a hilltop looking down into the Hattersburg Valley. The town sat at the convergence of three rivers, the largest being the Tillie. The town began with a palisaded fort on the high ground nearest the confluence, and had grown out from there. Trees had been felled and all around the town small homesteads had been cleared.
Nathaniel slapped Owen on the back. 'Hattersburg. Civilization as far west as allowed by law.' Then he pointed off toward the east. 'Of course, law done stopped back there to catch its breath, so watch your step. This ain't a place you want to be caught dead.'
Chapter Twenty-Four
June 7, 1763
Hattersburg
Lindenvale, Mystria
T hey raced the sun to Hattersburg and barely beat it. On the way in they went past several small farms all connected by a sorry excuse for a road. Cabins had been made from logs and outbuildings from roughly sawn boards. Grass and mud stuffed cracks, and shutters closed over empty openings that passed for windows.
'Glass is expensive out here?'
'A mite delicate to be transported.' Nathaniel spit off to the side. 'Folks born out here have a notion it don't truly exist. Lenses on that telescope of yours is the closest they've ever seen. A window pane is pure fancy.'
'Is there an inn where we can purchase a room? I do have money.'
'Well, I was being honest with you back there, Captain Strake. You'd best be keeping your mouth closed tight. Listen and learn.' Nathaniel smiled and Owen didn't feel all that reassured. 'Got to trod a slender board in Hattersburg to stay out of trouble.'
Hattersburg looked unlike any town Owen had ever seen, and it was not simply the rustic nature of the buildings. Few had proper foundations, so more than one of them sagged. Several had log buttresses shoring them up. A couple had fallen to ruin and then been pilfered for building material and firewood.
The town itself started with the fort and had an irregular greensward to the side and around the front in an oddly angular crescent. Two roads paralleled it from one river and the other crossing it. They extended until they hit the Cool River coming down from the north. More roads ran at angles both irregular and convenient, dividing lots into unconventional shapes. The church stood inland from the fortress, as if balancing it, with houses, shops, and other buildings clustered haphazardly between. Some people had built on the eastern and southern sides of the
