Shadow's master

get the horses,” he said. “I'll meet you there after I settle our bill.”

Caim buckled on his knives as the clansmen left the room. A touch of the weakness he'd felt at the storehouse still lingered with him. His balance was slightly off, and a chill had settled into his bones. Maybe he was coming down with something. Just what I need when we've got who-knows-how-many days of travel ahead of us.

The common room was packed. Servers bustled back and forth between the bar and the tables. A faint haze smelling of rotten leaves hung in the air.

“Wow,” Kit said as she appeared beside him. “Too bad we're leaving. This place is full of interesting characters.”

“Nice seeing you again,” he muttered under his breath.

She patted his hurt shoulder. “Poor darling. Good work back there, by the way. I was wondering if you'd be able to pull it off.”

Caim started making his way through the crowd of people. He ground his teeth together when a laughing Northman holding two mugs jostled his shoulder. When he got to the bar, he waved to get the attention of the nearest bartender, but he had to wait a few minutes before someone saw him.

“We're heading out,” he said over the noise. “I need to pay up.”

While she went to find the owner, Caim put his back to the bar and surveyed the crowd. He didn't see any familiar faces.

Kit eased up beside him, mimicking his pose against the counter. “He's not here.”

“Who?”

“Svart. Last I checked in, he was laid up in some woman's shack with snow packed around his jaw. Malig thumped him pretty good.”

The innkeeper shuffled over. “You leaving?”

“Yes. How much for last night?”

The innkeeper put up two thick fingers. “You pay for two night.”

Caim held his gaze. After several heartbeats, he asked, “How much?”

“Two big-heads.”

Caim felt a sigh rise from his chest. A big-head was the northern term for a double-weight golden soldat. It was more than most people in Othir made in a fortnight. Up here, it was a gods-damn fortune. “You want to try again?”

“Eh? You no pay?” The innkeeper glared under thickset eyebrows.

Caim growled to himself. This whole place was a nightmare. He reached into his pouch and plunked down two large gold coins. He started to leave, but the innkeeper said something in the northern tongue that sounded like a curse and started rattling off to the tap-woman while holding up the coins. Caim started to argue that they weren't counterfeit when he saw the markings on the faces. They were Nimean mint. Shit. Those are going to stand out around here.

He turned to go and almost ran into a man blocking his path. Caim started to go around, but the man put up a hand. Caim stopped, his right hand slipping down behind his back. The man was lean, an inch or two shorter than him. He wore a motley collection of scuffed leathers with a pair of rawhide gloves tucked in to one of two belts wrapped around his waist. The only obvious weapon was a long knife on his hip, almost as big as a suete.

Caim waited, his legs tensed. Then Kit floated over. “Oh. You've met Egil.”

“You're Caim?” the man asked.

It took everything Caim had not to reply with the man's name and see how that grabbed him. This guy didn't look like one of Svart's henchmen, but Caim was done with guessing. “I don't know you.”

“Name's Egil.”

“What do you want?”

“It's more what I heard you want. It's a little thick in here. Want to talk outside?”

Caim looked over Egil's shoulder. Aemon and the others were already outside. He felt the shadows stir. Then Kit's hand passed through his arm. “Be good!” she said. “He's a nice guy.”

Another good egg, huh, Kit? Okay. I'll play along.

“All right,” he said. “After you.”

Egil pushed through the press of bodies. Caim watched for covert nods or signals to anyone else in the room, but didn't see anything suspicious.

Kit hovered in front of him, keeping pace as he headed to the door. “Teromich sent him. He's a real guide.”

“Now you care?” Caim whispered, and covered it with a cough as he put on his gloves.

She pouted. “That's not fair. I was trying to find someone like him when you met that Svart. Anyway, I came in time to get you out of that mess.”

He scowled at her description of the fight at the storehouse, and Kit blew him a kiss before she sank into the floor.

The wind hit Caim in the face as he exited. If anything, it felt colder than before. With no sun, he wondered how cold it would get on the wastes, and then he remembered where they were headed. The cold was the least of his problems.

Egil walked a few paces from the door. Light shined from the windows of the surrounding buildings-the brothel next door gave off enough for them to see each other.

“The trader, Teromich, told me you're looking for a guide,” Egil said. “He said I could find you and your men here.”

“How did you know it was me at the bar?”

Egil smiled. He was missing an upper front tooth. “He gave me a description. Not too tall, long scar on the cheek, and the meanest eyes he'd ever seen. You fit the bill.”

The man had a quiet, almost cautious, way about him, but he also sounded confident.

“We're going north.” Caim rolled his shoulders and felt the sutures pull. He didn't know anything about the wastes beyond what little he'd learned from Kas, but he had a suspicion that the farther north they went, the more dangerous it would get.

Egil made a small shrug. “All right.”

“You know these lands pretty well?”

“Been hunting and trapping them all my life. Hunting's slow this season, so I thought taking you all for a walk would be a nice change.”

A smile tugged at Caim's lips. “Okay. There's only one hitch. We're leaving now.”

“If you can wait a bit, I'll get my gear. Or we can stop at my place on the way out. It's not far from here.”

They agreed upon a price, which was less than Caim anticipated, and headed around to the back of the hostel where the Eregoths were leading the horses out of the stable. Caim made introductions as he swung into his saddle.

After shaking Egil's hand, Aemon said, “I wish we could have stayed longer. For the animals' sake. They're still a little thin.”

“That can't be helped,” Caim said.

They left the yard. Ice crackled under their steeds' hooves as they rode through the dark streets. Caim kept a sharp watch as they rode past rows of taverns and flophouses. A dog barked a few blocks away. Egil's house was small, little more than a wooden shack with a peaked roof. Caim and the others waited in the lane while he went inside.

“What's this guy's story?” Malig asked.

“Teromich sent him.” Caim looked over his shoulder. “He knows the Northlands, and we can afford him.”

“I hope he doesn't turn out to be another fucking setup.”

Caim nodded. The shadows were quiet, which he took for a good sign. And there was always Kit. She was probably looking over them. At least, he wanted to think so. She'd certainly been more attentive since they left Liovard, for better and worse.

The door opened, and Egil came out with a pack over his shoulder. A girl wrapped in a woolen housecoat