'He's not going anywhere. He's scared shitless. The ratshit little quirk is huddled into a ball, that's what.' 'Yen Olass… it might be a girl.' 'What? What's that?' 'It might be a girl.' 'No, it's a man.' 'How can you tell?’
'Of course it's a man. Raping around in the night without any clothes on. Crawling straight for my-’
'Oh, come on, Yen Olass. It's probably a mother hedgehog. A mother hedgehog with little baby hedgehogs back at her house, all little ones with white spines, really cute and soft, waiting for her to come back with lots of yums.’
'Hedgehogs don't have houses.’
'They do. They build houses so they can be all warm and cosy when they have their babies.’
'Hedgehogs don't have babies. They lay eggs.’
'They don't!' said Resbit, outraged at this slander.
'They do too, and the men eat them half the time, so this one should get put down.’
'It's a she,' said Resbit, positively.
'How do you know?’
'I know.’
'All right then,' said Yen Olass, 'we'll wait till it's daylight. Then we'll see.' Silence. Then a giggle. 'What is it now?’
'How do you sex a hedgehog?' said Resbit. 'With something sharp, I suspect,' said Yen Olass grimly. Silence. Then:
'It's probably got fleas,' said Resbit. 'What?’
'You know. Fleas. They probably think you're very nice and warm. You are nice and warm, Yen Olass. If I was a flea, I'd… I'd find a warm place.’
Out in the night, there was a piercing shriek.
'What was that?' said Resbit, in alarm.
'An owl,' said Yen Olass wearily.
'Oh… I wonder what it was doing
'Hunting,' said Yen Olass.
'Yes. Fleas, probably. Big ones with twenty legs and sharp biting things. Have they started to migrate yet?' 'Shut up.’
'I think there's one right now, crawling up your
Yen Olass thunked Resbit a couple of times with the back of her head. Resbit giggled, then was quiet. They sat there back to back. Yen Olass… began to itch. Surely it was imagination.
'Shit,' said Yen Olass, softly.
She spread her legs.
For a while, nothing happened. Then there was a snort, a tentative scrabble of feet. Then suddenly the hedgehog was blundering away through the night, making a staggering amount of noise in the darkness, which amplifies every fearsome sound stalking beneath the stars.
Resbit started to giggle again. Surrendering her anger, Yen Olass joined her. Soon, they sobered up. They eased themselves, this way and that, trying to soothe out the tensions in the muscles of their arms. Staggering a little, they braced against each other and forced themselves into a standing position. They took a few clumsy double-backed steps, kicked their feet, moved their hips, stretched their spines, and found sufficient freedom to work their arms a little.
Then they sat down again.
And now, warmed a little by their exercise, and weakened by the fatigue that follows episodes of absolute terror, they
found themselves drifting off to sleep again. Yen Olass, who had thought herself condemned to wakefulness for the rest of the night, was so surprised at this that she almost became wide awake again. However, conjuring up a soothing image… a bed with a cat sleeping on it… she eased herself into the territory of dreams.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Daylight.
Bright and harsh.
The sun was well up.
What had awakened them?
The answer, in a word: Chonjara.
He stood by the riverbank, surveying them in silence. Then he blinked, and looked around, scanning the trees. With curt, emphatic gestures, he pointed men into the trees. Swiftly, they swept forward, weapons at the ready, attacking the forest in battle formation. But there was no ambush, no lurking party of pirates or Melski. The men regrouped. All this in silence, without a word having been spoken: Chonjara was an efficient commander.
With the sweep completed, Chonjara pointed a man at the two captives. The man laid a knife against Resbit's throat.
'No, stupid,' said Chonjara. 'Cut them loose.’
With the rope cut away, the two women started to ease the crinks out of their bodies.
'Been enjoying yourselves?' said Chonjara.
'We had a busy ngiht,' said Yen Olass. 'Seducing hedgehogs.’
'But Draven.’
'Gone north. You'll catch him.’
'I would if I wanted him.’
'Of course you want him, he's-’
'He's not important,' said Chonjara.
Lord Alagrace was dead. And now, Chonjara held Yen Olass prisoner: he had a dralkosh he could produce for the satisfaction of the army once he got back to Lorford.
'What took you so long?' said Yen Olass. 'We've been waiting here all night.’
Chonjara did not answer, but turned away. In fact, he had spent all the night in a defensive position just south of the narrow gorge. He knew there were Melski in this area, so he had declined to push on in failing light. That decision might have allowed Draven to escape with Jalamex, but Chonjara did not regret it. He gave orders for his men to begin the march south. They would make for Lake Armansis with all possible speed.
'Hey,' said Yen Olass, 'what about breakfast?’
'We've eaten already,' said Chonjara.
'In the name of the Lord Emperor Khmar,' said Yen Olass, 'I charge you to see to my rations. I carry within me the child of the Red Emperor, the heir to the throne of Tameran.’
Chonjara snorted, and set off downstream. Resbit and Yen Olass followed, on empty stomachs.
As his people began the march downriver, Chonjara reviewed the events of the last few days. He had lost an ear, but he was not unhappy. He had avenged his father's death by killing Haveros. Lord Alagrace was dead, leaving him with absolute control of the army. The Lord Emperor Khmar was dead; the future offered power and glory to those prepared to seize it.
And Chonjara was ready to seize whatever was going.
When they reached the gorge, Chonjara called a halt, to give his men a breather. He sent scouts ahead to climb to the heights of the gorge, to make sure no Melski were waiting there in ambush. He was at least half-hoping to clash with the Melski. Cutting their way through some of that green muck would sharpen up his men and test their mettle.
Resting, Chonjara looked across the river. On the far side, on his left, a stream flowing from out of the east spilled its water into the river. It was a small stream; across the width of the river he could scarcely hear the low murmur of diplomacy as the water negotiated its-way over the last few rocks. But something about it had attracted his attention. What?
Listening intently, he heard… a rumbling. Like… almost like distant thunder. But thunder fades and dies away. This, on the other hand…
