Sheepfarmer's Dauther

he want to come up here and take a bunch of mercenary prisoners for?”

“I don’t know. One of his schemes, I suppose. You know how he hates ’em. I don’t doubt this Duke Whoever, the Red Duke, will be angry enough at the green ones when he finds his men where they’ll be. And Tollen told me the Red Duke’s at the siege.”

“Is he? That’s a bit clearer. My lord Siniava will be up to his usual tricks, no doubt.” The voices had moved past, and now faded into foggy silence.

The three in the hollow looked long at each other. “They’re taking the prisoners somewhere,” said Saben softly. “I wonder where?”

“But what about the fort?” asked Paks.

“Siniava—Siniava. I should know that name. Yellow and black—and Siniava. Oh!” said Canna.

“What is it?”

“We can hope I’m wrong, but I think I know who that is: Siniava. I think it’s the Honeycat. You’ve heard —?”

Paks shivered. “Yes. Too much. Now what are we going to do?”

“Tell the Duke. Now more than ever. I wish I knew where they were taking the prisoners. He’ll want to know.”

“And if they’re trying to break the fort to get more,” said Saben.

“Yes. There’s a lot we need to know—where they’re going, and when, and by what road—”

“We—I—could try to get close to them and find out,” suggested Paks.

“First we need to get Canna outside their skirmish lines,” said Saben. “She can’t travel as fast. But this fog’s a big help; they can’t see us.”

“Do you know which way is which?” asked Canna.

Saben’s face fell. “No. I didn’t think of that.”

“I do,” said Paks. “At least I’m fairly sure. Let’s go south a bit more, and then cut west to the road.”

She helped Canna stand; the dark woman was steadier than Paks had expected. Then she led the way from tree to tree, with a pause behind each to look and listen. The woods were silent, except for the drip-drip of fog from every twig. They went on. It could have been hours; the light grew only slightly, and the fog was just as thick. At one pause, Saben asked, “How do you know this is south?”

“Remember the view from the wall—beyond the biggest brambles, and running south, was a belt of fir trees. I remember wondering if it had been planted there for some reason.”

“Fir trees. How do you know fir trees from pines or anything else?”

“I’m from Three Firs, remember? Fir trees I know.”

“Hunh. And I thought you were smart or something.” Saben gave her a quick grin before going on.

They had come up a long slope, and now they felt an open quality to the silence that meant a ridgetop. When they started down the far side, the firs disappeared.

“Now what?” asked Saben.

“Now we stop for a bit,” said Paks, eyeing Canna, whose face was pinched with pain or cold. She found a spot below a rock ledge, and they settled their backs against it. “We can have those berries now. Do you have a tinderbox, Saben?”

“No, worse luck. But we couldn’t start a fire here, could we? So close?”

“No, but later. I don’t have anything. Canna?”

“I don’t know. I can’t remember. There was no reason to bring it out, but I’ll look in my pouch. Yes. There it is.”

Paks grinned at the other two. “We’re in good shape, really. We’ve got something to make a fire, and something to cook in—”

“And nothing to cook,” Saben reminded her.

“Don’t ill-wish,” she retorted. “We could be dead, or prisoners, and we’re not. If only Canna hadn’t been hit —”

“If never filled the pot,” said Canna. “I’m doing well—it hurts when I move that arm, just what you’d expect.” Despite her words, Paks noticed that she sagged against the rock.

“Well, I need a rest, if you don’t,” said Paks.

“Now I know how you knew which way was south,” said Saben. “But how are you going to find west? I don’t remember any convenient belts of trees in that direction.”

“This ridge runs west, more or less,” said Paks, who had finally thought of that only a few minutes before, when she too wondered how she’d find west without the sun.

“Umm. You’re right again. But I don’t think following it will be as easy.”

“No. I don’t either. It would be nice to find someone’s path going the right way.”

“If we can find a path, so can their men.”

“Yes. I should have thought of that. Well, we’ll just have to try. If we do get lost, the sun will come out someday.”

“Let’s go on and share out the berries,” said Canna. The berries seemed to have shrunk overnight, and did little to fill their empty bellies.

“The next time we do this sort of thing,” said Saben, “let’s be sure to carry three days’ rations in our pouches, and tinderboxes, and bandages, and—let’s see—how about mules and saddles, too.”

Paks and Canna both chuckled. “In a pouch—of course,” said Canna. “To be honest, I don’t plan to do this again, if I can help it.”

“Come now,” said Saben. “We’re going to be heroes in this tale. Escaping the villain, bringing word to our Duke, rescuing our friends—” Paks nodded; she had already imagined them freeing the prisoners on the road, and returning to the Duke in triumph. Of course, it wouldn’t be easy, but—

“If we come out of this heroes,” Canna said soberly, “we’ll earn it. Every step of the way. You two—you’ve done well, so far, but you don’t understand. There are too many things that can go wrong, too many miles. This is no fireside tale, no adventure for a hero out of songs: this is real. We aren’t likely to make it as far as the Duke, though we’ll try—”

“I know that,” Saben broke in. “We aren’t veteran scouts. But still—it’s easier to think about if we think of it as an adventure—at least I think so. The bad will come soon enough without looking for it—beyond being careful, of course.”

“As long as you don’t think we’ll go dancing down the road and find the Duke as easy as finding those berries—” Canna sounded doubtful.

Paks shook her head. “We know, Canna. A lot can go wrong; we need you to keep us from making stupid mistakes that will get us all killed. One of us has to get through.” She still thought they could do it; Canna was just worried because of her wound. She took a drink from her flask, then shook it. “I wonder how far downslope water is. Canna, how’s your water?”

“About half. We probably should look for more.”

“You stay here,” said Saben. “I can’t get lost if I go down and back up. I’ll hoot like that owl last night when I think I’m near again.” He took their flasks and disappeared into the fog.

“If they are marching to Rotengre,” said Paks,.” do you think they’ll go through Sorellin, or around it?”

“Not through, even if they control the city—it’d be risky. I expect they’d take the fork we came up by.”

“I hope so. That will be—a week on the march, at least, and more likely eight or nine days with that crowd. We’ll have to get food somewhere. We can march two days on water alone, but not a week. D’you think we could buy food somewhere? I’ve got a silver—a nis—and some coppers—”

“It depends. If we’re seen, we can be talked about. If we’re far enough behind to be safe, we could lose them. Probably we’d best stick to what we can find—or steal.”

“Steal!” said Paks. “But we’re not supposed to—”

“I know. But it’s better than capture. We can tell the Duke, when we get to Rotengre, and he’ll make it good.”

Paks sighed. It was beginning to seem more complicated. “If we stay close enough to know where they are, we’ll be close enough for their scouts to find, won’t we?”

“Yes. If we knew their route, we could go ahead of them—that would be best—but we don’t.” They sat in silence awhile. Canna shifted her back against the rock. Paks looked at her.