Moonrise

holds.

'You are slowing us,' the Made-girl said, and had lisped the us, though not the slowing.

'I am not.'

As if she were angry with him, though Baj couldn't recall being impolite – and she'd been kind to him before – the girl immediately went faster. She whisked up the rise to leave all of them behind, her dark leather pack bobbing, the sheathed scimitar snug at her waist… and disappeared over an outcrop of weather-splintered stone.

Baj climbed faster, though it cost him, and managed to catch Richard and labor along beside him. The big Person, his double-ax strapped to his heavy, furred pack, seemed to flow over the stone… flow between the slender young trees where it seemed he was too large to go. He apparently was trying to whistle as he traveled along – his lips, black as a dog's, were pursed – though, perhaps because the mouth was odd, only breathy near notes came out.

At the ridge, Baj was greatly relieved when Richard stopped to look out over rolling hilltops, the deepening valleys to the north and east. Shrugging his shoulders to settle his pack, quiver, and strung bow, Baj tried to take deep breaths quietly. A breeze, almost warm, drifted with new-summer odors across the ridge. Little insects, mayflies, ghosted with it, translucent wings glinting in the sun.

Errol came sidling up behind them. A small strangled cony was tucked dangling at his belt.

'When it becomes later,' Richard said – and though no whistler, pronounced book-English as well as Baj had ever heard, and in a fine deep voice. '- When it becomes later, we'll find water in one of those hollows. As we do, so will animals.'

'Yes…?'

'You have a bow. Then get us fresh meat to travel on. Horse meat's gone.'

'All right,' Baj said, '- I can do that,' and hoped he'd be able to. He was fair with the bow, a little better than fair, but so much of his hunting had been on horseback, and behind hounds… It seemed the comfort of company brought responsibility with it.

The boy, Errol, made a cricking sound with tongue – and as if that had been a signal, Richard was off again in a hulking bound down the wooded reverse. Baj galloped after him through whipping branches – running full out to keep from falling on his face and rolling down the mountain.

In the hollow below, Nancy was nowhere in sight, and Baj – exhilaration fading as he scrambled to keep the Persons' pace – began to yearn for the end of this day, as he'd yearned for the ends of the previous two.

But the after-noon seemed to stretch and stretch, as if the sun had slowed its run to match his weariness. There was only trotting through dark leaf mold and tangling vine, then climbing outcrops of rock to haul himself up through brush and saplings – bruised ribs still troubling him a little – then, over a crest, skidding down through more undergrowth, more saplings. His pack, sword and dagger, the quiver and bow all began to seem unfair, unnecessary, only foolish burdens.

… When it appeared there would come no evening, no night, but only day eternal, with sweat running into his eyes, and bleeding fingers – where the fuck were his gloves? He'd left them at the lodge more than a Warm-time week ago… When effort seemed forever, unless he called to beg Richard for a halt, then at last the first of sunset's long shadows came sliding across the slopes, promising him twilight at last, and rest.

Deep into the next hollow, Nancy stepped from such a shadow, startling Baj so he shied away and put his hand to his sword-hilt like a festival fool. In woods and under woods, by softening light, her sharp face seemed suited and less strange. 'Water,' she said, '- and winter-broken branches for a fire.'

'Meat?' Richard.

'No animals, no sign now – though coyotes have come through.'

'Shit,' Richard said, a perfect use of the copybook word. 'We were spoiled, coming south as the deer and all animals were coming south with Lord Winter at their backs.'

'A thrown hatchet,' Nancy said, '- would find a deer.'

Richard sighed. 'Not in summer season. Unstring your bow, Who-was-a-prince, and let it rest.'

… The bow, its limbs eased, soon leaned against a maple tree. The same tree where Baj also sat resting, his limbs eased in evening air.

The boy, Errol, lay dozing beside him, while the cony, skinned – and looking very small, a blistered lump – rode a slender peeled branch over a little fire of fallen hardwood, chosen for thorough burning and little smoke.

'We're between Sparrow country and Thrush country.' Richard fed the fire a light ration, huge dark fingers deft with twigs and splinters. '- almost up into Map-Kentucky. And if the Sparrows owe us something, the Thrushes owe us less. The Robins, farther north, will owe us nothing.'

'Why stay in these tribesmen's hills at all?' Baj said. 'Why not go east, into lower country and easier traveling, where there are farms – then north to the ice?'

'One of us makes too much noise traveling, anyway.' Nancy, sitting across the fire, smiled at Baj as she said it, apparently no longer angered by whatever had angered her. – Proof, it seemed to him, that no mixture of fox's blood, or any blood, could dilute a woman's to anything but a woman's.

'I know I'm noisy through the woods – and I'm slow, and get tired. But I'll become quieter, and quicker, and soon I won't tire so easily.'

'You do well enough.' Richard leaned forward to prod the roasting cony with a huge forefinger. 'We stay in the hills, at least for a Warm-time week or two, for good reason. Boston finds information in the villages, and from farmers… ranchers in the lowlands, east and farther east to the Ocean Atlantic.' He leaned forward, sniffed at the cooking meat. 'Boston finds friends there, too, since the Guard is their only protection when the tribes come raiding down… Though there are villages that the tribesmen leave alone. That all leave alone.'

'We'd prefer no pigeons flew to Cambridge to mention where we are,' Nancy said. 'Sylvia Wolf-General already knows where to meet us.'

'Wolf-General?'

'She commands the First Regiment of the Guard,' Richard

said. '- Or did, when I served in it.'

'And has some wolf mixed in her? No offense____________________'

Richard smiled his disturbing smile. 'Better say she has some human mixed in her.'

'It's the Guard we seek,' Nancy said. 'But only those – so, carefully.'

'Boston-Patience to deal with the Shrikes,' Richard said, '- and we, the Guard.'

'To bring harm to Boston.'

'Oh, yes, Baj. A final harm.'

'And if neither is persuaded to be with us – not those tribesmen, not the Guard?'

Richard shook his head. 'Then, Baj, the Shrikes will do to us… much the same as the Guard will do to us.'

'But if they agree – then to harm Boston how?'

'How,' Richard said, 'is secret, and will be as sailing Patience advised us. She sews all together.' He leaned to poke the cooking cony again, and Baj saw he was drooling – clear saliva running down a half-furred jaw in glistening strands, making an odd contrast with the rich voice, its excellent book-English… Considering that contrast, it occurred to Baj that traveling with fanged companions had its dubious side, best dealt with by frequent feedings.

'There must be deer in these mountains. I'll try for one, tommorow.'

Richard rumbled an 'Ummm…' of appetite.

'If not a deer,' Baj said, '- something.' And looked up to see a look of gleeful amusement on the Made-girl's face.

'He thinks -' Nancy giggled like a child.

'I think what?' Baj said.

'Nothing…' More giggles.

'What?' Richard stopped poking the meager meat, sucked his finger for the juices.

Baj gave the girl a let-it-go look – but she instantly betrayed him. 'He thinks we'll eat him.' Giggles grew to laughing, her sharp white teeth reflecting firelight.

Beside Baj, Errol woke smiling at the sound of her laughter, and Richard's booming 'Certainly a possibility…'

Later, the big Person dug into his pack, set a small book aside, and brought out a little folding peg-chess set.