“Do you want to lie down?”
“Better not. Let me think—if they march like others I’ve seen, they’ll have two waves of forward scouts, mounted, and a patrol on each flank. The flankers usually stay in sight of the column; the forward scouts may not. And a rearguard. The first day will be hardest, until we find out their order of march.”
“I don’t know whether to hope for rain, to slow them down, or dry weather to make it easy for us.”
“Either way we’ll have our problems; so will they. Best be ready to take what comes. One thing, Paks—”
“Yes?”
“We need to agree on who’s in command.”
Paks stared. “Why—you are, surely. You’re senior.”
“Yes—but I’m not even a file leader. And I’m injured; I couldn’t
“Hooo—hooo—hoo hoo.”
“Saben’s coming.
“There’s a good spring not far down,” said Saben. “And I found these growing around it.” He dumped out a pouchful of small shiny red berries and a few hazelnuts. “I don’t know what those berries are, but they taste good.”
Paks tried one. It was tart and juicy, very different from the luscious sweet bramble-berries. She and Canna ate while Saben cracked the hazelnut husks and piled the meats.
“I can take the pail down there,” said Saben, “and gather more.”
“I don’t think so,” said Canna. “Look at the fog.” A light wind had come up, and the fog was beginning to blow through the trees in streamers. “We should be heading for the road. Saben, I was telling Paks that we need to agree on who’s in command—”
“You’re senior, Canna. Whatever you say—”
“All right. Paks agreed too. But if I’m disabled, one of you will have to take over, and—”
“Oh. Paks, of course—don’t you think?” He popped a hazelnut into his mouth.
“That’s what I thought.” Canna sounded relieved. “I wanted to be sure you’d agree, though. I’m not a corporal or anything.”
“That’s all right. It’s no time to worry about
“Good. Let me tell you what I think is next; if I miss anything, bring it up.” They both nodded, and she went on. “We need to be close enough to know where they’re going, without getting caught. That means staying out of their sight. If they head for Rotengre, we can stay together; if they don’t, we’ll have to separate: one goes straight to the Duke, and the others follow Siniava.”
“But Canna,” said Paks, “can’t we do something about the prisoners? To free them, or something?”
Canna shook her head. “No—I don’t think we can. The most important thing is to tell the Duke what’s happened. If we try to free them and fail—and think, Paks: just the three of us, with daggers; we would fail—then we’d be caught or killed, and the Duke still wouldn’t know. I don’t like it either, but we won’t help that way.” She waited, looking from one to another. Paks finally gave a reluctant nod. Saben grunted. Canna went on. “Another thing—if one of us is caught, or killed, or—or whatever—the others must go on. Someone has to get to the Duke, no matter what, or the whole thing is wasted. Clear?”
Paks had found the other hard enough to accept; this was impossible. She and Saben spoke together. “No! We can’t—” Saben stopped and Paks continued. “Canna, you’re hurt now—we can’t leave you. What if they found you? We’re—we’re friends; we’ve fought together, and—”
“We’re warriors first,” said Canna firmly. “That’s what we’re here for. If you accept my command, you must accept this. We’re warriors, and our duty is to our Duke. He’s the only one who can help the rest, anyway. I’d leave you—I wouldn’t want to, but I would. And you’ll leave me, if it comes to that, rather than let the whole cohort be lost, and the Company after it.”
“Well—all right. But I hope it doesn’t.” Paks stood up and stretched.
“So do I,” said Canna. Saben gave her a hand up. “Now—remember to use hand signals as much as you can; sound carries, as we heard.” They nodded. “Paks, if you think you can find the way west, lead off. Whatever you do, don’t veer north.”
“I’ll be careful.” Paks looked around. The fog had thinned; she could see a short way through the trees. At the top of the ridge she followed the crest of it west—or what she hoped was west. In the dampness the leaves underfoot made little noise. They could hear nothing nearby, but from time to time they heard a distant drum.
Chapter Fifteen
Paks tried to think where they were as they walked. They’d been south of the southeast corner of the fort— then they’d gone south, and a little east, with the firs. Now she hoped they were walking west; the road lay west of the fort. But how far west—she remembered several turns before it got to the bridge—where were the turns?
This was going to be trickier than she’d thought. Where the trees were open—on the ridge—she could see better, but so could any enemy. She heard a horn call off to the right, and froze. It came again. She looked at Saben and Canna behind her. Canna shrugged. Paks gestured to the thicker growth downslope, and Canna nodded. They eased their way into it, and rested for a few minutes. Paks explained her concern—noisy progress through the thick growth, or visible progress through the thinner woods. After some discussion, they decided to stay in the heavier downslope woods, moving more slowly for silence.
It was harder going, but Paks felt safer. They stopped at intervals to listen, and kept a nervous eye on the rise above them. A patrol could come very close before they saw it. Suddenly she stopped. She thought she saw a lighter area ahead—a clearing, perhaps, or the road. She gestured, and the others lay down. When she looked back at them, their white faces showed clear against the dark wet leaves. She dug into the leaf-mold with her fingers and smeared it on her face, then looked back again and pointed to show what she’d done. They nodded, and began doing the same. Paks gestured again, for them to stay in place, and began to creep forward, keeping to such cover as she could find. From her position, she could see very little. After a few damp, tiring yards of creeping, she was tempted to stand and look. But when she glanced back to see how far she’d come, Canna’s hand signal was emphatic: down. Stay down. Paks nodded and went on.
She was sure she was near the opening, whatever it was, when she heard the beat of many horses coming rapidly. She started to leap up and run, but controlled herself. They were on the road, by the sound: it must be the road. They wouldn’t see her unless she moved. She told herself that again and again, forcing herself to stare at the layers of leaves on the ground lest her eyes be visible. The horses came from her right: at least ten, she thought. She would have sworn that they trotted right over her. The hoof-beats passed and died away. Paks breathed again, and lifted her head. She could see a gap, and trees beyond it. She crept forward until she could see the road itself, scarred with hoofmarks and fresh wheelruts. If the enemy had wagons, that would slow them. She looked along the road as far as she could without getting out in the open. Nothing.
It was much harder creeping back to Saben and Canna with her back to the road. She was sure that someone was there, watching her, perhaps drawing a bow to shoot. She wanted to jump up and run forward. Her shoulders ached. The wet leafmold tickled her nose; she wanted to sneeze. She kept crawling, muttering silently in her head, and almost bumped into Canna.
“The road,” she said unnecessarily, in Canna’s ear.
Canna was pale. “I was afraid you’d jump up and bolt. Those horses—”
“I almost did,” said Paks. “Let’s move farther back—”
They crawled back, then turned downslope again and went deeper in the hollow, squatting under a clump of cedar. “I didn’t see any sentries,” said Paks. “I looked both ways. I don’t know where the horsemen were going.”
“Did you get a good look at them?” asked Canna.
“No. I was afraid they’d see my face, so I stared at the ground. It sounded like ten or more.”
“I thought about a dozen,” said Canna. “They might have been going to that farm, the one where we got the ox that time.”
