ornamented thicket scraped his neck and back, branches catching in his hair.
'That's far enough!' barked one of the guards.
Her ghost shimmered up to him, child's face working in a distorted grimace as insubstantial tears sparked on white cheeks. He staggered away to heave, afterward made the mistake of wiping his mouth with a bloodstained hand, and the metallic taste made him retch again. His throat burned. He tried to wipe his hands on leaves, on dirt, but her blood wouldn't come off.
'Come on now.' The guard poked him with a spear.
He took a slow step sideways, thinking to bolt. Even if the ghost followed him, they could not see it.
The haft of a spear cracked across his back, pitching him to his knees, and thwacked again, catching him at the base of the neck. Ears ringing, he stumbled up, too dazed to run, and they herded him at spearpoint back into camp. His face and hands and arms were scratched up by thorns, his head was pounding, and blinking made him dizzy. Once he grasped at the ghost, thinking to steady himself, but his hand passed right through her and he reeled to his left, brought up short by a soldier shoving him back.
'Aui! You reek!'
It started to rain.
'Heya! Get the big oaf over here to hold up the canvas what's coming down. Sergeant don't want to get wet while he's doing his business.'
He caught his foot on a root and went down, his weight jarring up through the knee. Another soldier prodded him up, and he staggered to where a length of canvas tied up to form a lean-to was indeed caving in as rainwater pooled in a sag in the cloth. The watchful boy was already yanking on the cloth but he wasn't strong
enough to keep it taut, so Shai grasped the cloth and tugged hard, making water splash onto the ground.
The side was wide open. It was too dark to see clearly, but he heard panting, a release, and a sigh. Rain poured. Another man slid under the canvas.
'Heya. My turn. Get out.'
'Eiya! It's wet out there! Just go ahead.'
'Get out!'
And so on, one grumbling as he slid out into the rain and another ducking under to take his turn, and then another, and another, men too wet to sleep or perhaps he had truly fallen into one of the hells where the rains, like lust and fear, could never slacken. The watchful boy swayed with exhaustion, and Shai took on more and more of the weight, sure that if the boy dropped he would be murdered right there for slacking his duty. His thoughts turned numb, the night blurred, but at length the rain eased and no more men came. The sergeant returned to chase out a girl.
'Eh! I want a dry cover for my head. Here, you, filthy slave. Get out. I'm going to sleep.'
She crawled out and lay curled in a ball off to one side with drizzle spitting over her. She'd been wearing a taloos — women's garb — but the cloth was bunched up. The soles of her feet showed pale in the darkness. Shai eased the ache in his back by shifting. Wasn't there a way to hook the canvas up so the water didn't pool? He stretched, stood tiptoe, found a way to loop the guide-rope once around the stub of a broken branch. Carefully, he loosened his hold. Nodded to the boy who, waking from a standing doze, cautiously released his hold on his corner.
The lean-to held. Within, the sergeant snored peacefully.
The air had a thick texture, heavy enough to spoon; he'd never tasted so much moisture on the wind in his life. Kartu was desert country, the town alive because of its miraculous spring, which was said to rise from the heel print of the Merciful One walking the path of enlightenment, whatever that meant.
The ghost drifted in front of him, gesturing with open palms, trying to get him to listen to her, although her voice was a thread so fine he could not distinguish words. Had the blows to his head and back damaged his hearing?
'Uh, uh.' The girl who had been used under the shelter started crawling.
He wasn't sure where she meant to go, but he leaned down to grasp her shoulders. Feeling her go rigid when he touched her was worse than being kicked.
'Here, now,' he whispered. 'I'm just helping you.'
He eased her to her feet. She would have fallen without his arm braced around her back. He moved her toward the other captives, hoping he didn't trip over anyone in the dark.
'Uh, uh, uh.' Her grunts were soft, a palliative against the pain, and he heard them only because she was pressed against him. He glanced back. Where had the watchful boy gone?
But it was all dark. They were lost in night. He had fallen into one of the hells, among demons.
Before dawn, soldiers whipped the captives into line. Shai helped the shuddering girl to her feet. She was young, fifteen or sixteen, although it was hard to tell with her body made slight by lack of food. She flinched at everything, even his efforts to help her. Her hair was matted, her fingernails caked with dirt as though she had been digging with her hands. She could barely walk.
Once the captives stood in marching order, the soldiers led pack-horses and mounts into line. The lord appeared from out of the forest cover, the watchful boy following three paces behind him with head bowed.
'We must move quickly through the Aua Gap.' The lord had to work to make his voice carry; he did not have natural authority, but it was evident by the averted gazes and cringing stances that everyone there was frightened of him. 'The Horn militia will have an eye open for armed companies traveling out of Olo'osson. They'll fight any small groups they see, like ours. So we make haste. Show no mercy to those who could talk about us if they fell into the hands of our enemies. Kill anyone who falls behind.'
He walked into the trees as the watchful boy sidled into the line of captives. Ignored by the other prisoners, he stood beside Shai.
'Where did you go?' Shai asked him. 'You just vanished last night. Did he — uh — hurt you?'
'Neh. There's two of us, that he likes to braid our hair.' Indeed,
the boy's hair was neatly combed and braided, not a strand out of place; his braid fell to his lower back, glossy hair cleaner than the rest of him. 'The rest don't like me and Dena because of the attention he gives us, not that we asked for it! Maybe you'll scorn me now, too.' He squared his shoulders, ready to move away.
'Can you help me with her?' Shai asked. 'What's your name? I'm Shai.'
'Vali.' With a pleased smile, the boy slipped an arm around the girl's back. The order was called down the line and the ranks moved along a path cut through woodland. It was slow going, them in a narrow file never more than two abreast, but the pace remained steady and any captive who, by faltering, made the person behind cut their steps, got a whip slash across the back to chivvy her on. As dawn brightened into day, the ghost, her face set in a determined grimace, appeared as a wisp walking alongside a young lad who did not see her.
Under the cover of trees the light had a hazy glamour, and the smells seemed as thick as the muggy heat. Pockets of mud slurped under Shai's bare feet. Water dripped from leaves, and if he tilted his head back, he caught drops to moisten his parched mouth. Now and again the canopy opened into a clearing. Clouds glowed overhead, as if the sun was about to break through. Once, he saw a noble mountain blocking half of the northern sky, but the path twisted and trees rose, and the mountain vanished from view.
He got a better look at his companions. The youngest seemed to be ten or eleven — small enough! — and Shai was the only one with the heft of full growth. Vali slogged along in front of Shai, but soon enough one of the younger ones began to lag, so Vali put his arm around the littler girl's waist and kept her moving. Captives helped each other as well as they could. Even the ghost tried to aid that boy, maybe her kin, whenever he stumbled. But of course, she had no substance.
Shai was still dizzy from the blow to the head, and he was beginning to get truly hungry. Soldiers walked in groups of four, several always in view. Hard to sneak off into the forest cover with them so watchful. Anyway, if he let the girl go in order to save himself, she'd be killed.
'What's your name?' he whispered.
After a long time, she said, 'Yudit.' Nothing more.
They walked.
Rain washed through. Yudit stumbled more frequently. The path crossed a stream at a ford. The captives fell to their knees to scoop water in cupped palms. The soldiers led the horses upstream, muddying the water where the captives drank. Was it thoughtlessness, or cruelty?
