“I suppose so. I was hoping they were going south and wouldn’t be back.”
“Unlikely, unless they’re messengers. I expect they were after supplies, or information.”
“Now that we’ve found the road, shouldn’t one of us try to find out what’s happening at the fort?” asked Saben. “At least we can find out how big the Honeycat’s force is.”
Canna shook her head. “No—I’d agree if we had a few more. But as it is, we can’t take the chance of losing even one.”
“But if they take the prisoners away by a different route—”
“How can they?” asked Paks. “North is only that track over the mountains—why would they go there? This is the only road south; they’ll have to use it.”
“Unless they go across country.”
“With wagons? I saw fresh wheelruts, deep ones. They’ll have to stay on a road.”
“How far is the crossroads?” asked Saben.
Paks looked at Canna. “Do you remember? I think it was a day’s march—we got here at midafternoon, and the fork was where we halted the day before, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. That’s the road that goes to Merinath, east of us, and to Valdaire if you go far enough west. But they won’t turn there for Rotengre. They’d stay on this road through two crossings—no—southeast at the second. The way we came, anyway. But they could go through Sorellin, or even around it to the west, for some reason.”
Paks had been sketching in the dirt with a stick. “So—a crossroad here, where they could turn, and another here? Right. And then Sorellin, and then—how far is Rotengre? It’s east as well as south, isn’t it?”
Canna peered at the furrowed dirt. “Yes. Let me think. We’re about two days from Sorellin, I think, and it’s— oh, call it four days
“Six or seven days altogether—about what I remembered. But we could go ahead of them this far,” said Paks, pointing to the first crossroad. “They have to take this road that far, and they might not expect us to be ahead of them.”
“But we don’t know how long they’re going to stay here,” said Saben. “We could wait a month for them, and the Duke none the wiser.”
Canna shook her head. “No. Siniava has a name for moving fast. I think he won’t try the fort more than a day or so; if they don’t break, he’ll leave someone behind and take the rest of his force south. I can’t see him tying up his whole army for one little fort.”
“And I thought,” said Paks, “that if we got ahead of them, we could get some food, too, before they came along to buy it up.”
“Yes, but then we’ve been seen. They’ll ask questions. If they find out that someone in Duke Phelan’s colors has been buying food, they’ll come looking for us.”
Paks frowned. She was very conscious of her empty belly. A few berries and hazelnuts were not going to be enough—and they wouldn’t have time to gather many.
“Well, Canna,” said Saben, “do we have to stay in the Duke’s colors?”
“Yes—or be taken for bandits or spies. With our scars, we can’t pass as farmers. But Paks has a good idea: we can move south along this road to the first crossing, and wait a day or so. If they don’t come, we can decide then who will go straight to the Duke, and who will keep watch.”
“Let’s go, then.” Paks rose with the others. Although the fog had cleared, the light was already waning under an overcast sky. She led them downslope again, across a narrow trail, and up the next gentle rise. She tried to stay just close enough to the road to be aware of the gap in the trees. They saw no one, and heard nothing on the road.
Paks had just begun to wonder if they were nearing the farm when she smelled woodsmoke, and saw more light off to the right. She recalled the four or five huts and a barn, a rail-fenced enclosure for stock, and long narrow strips of plowed and fallow ground. Her mouth watered at the smell of the woodsmoke. She looked at Canna and Saben; they looked as hungry as she felt.
“I might be able to steal something,” she said.
Saben nodded, but Canna shook her head. “No. Remember the horsemen.” Paks had forgotten, in her hunger. “It would help, though, to find out if that’s where they are. We haven’t heard them on the road: I hope they aren’t sweeping the woods.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Paks.
“I didn’t think you had. We’re not out of the net yet; we need to think of everything—because they will. Saben, why don’t you slip up to the road this time. Just like Paks—stay down, no matter what.”
“Right away. Oh—is my face dirty enough?”
“Not quite.” Paks smeared leafmold across his cheek. “There.”
“And I’ll do as much for you next time,” he said, grinning. Paks and Canna sat down to watch as he crept toward the road.
“That’s hard on the arms,” said Paks as she watched.
“Yes. I don’t think we should talk.” Canna’s face was grim. Paks shot her a glance and went back to watching Saben. He looked very slow, but she knew how hard it was. She thought about the chance of a mounted sweep in the woods and shivered. No fog to hide them—not enough underbrush here. We ought to be farther apart, she thought. Then they might find only one—or that might make them look harder for more. Her belly growled loudly. Canna looked at her, and Paks shrugged. No way to stop that without food.
Saben was out of sight now, among the bushes by the road. Paks slipped her knife out and looked at it. If she hadn’t given her parole, she would not have a knife—would not have been out berrying, most likely. She would have been in the fort, maybe in a cell. But then, she’d have a sword by now, because the Halverics had armed the Phelani. But besieged by such a force—she shook her head, and returned to thoughts of the route south. A day to the crossroads and wait. They could do that, even without food. Her belly growled again, louder. Except for Canna, she thought. Canna’s been hurt; she has to have food. And if I can find food for one, I can find it for three. She cheered up a bit. There was Saben, creeping back toward them. The smell of smoke came stronger as the wind veered a moment. Saben came nearer. When she met his eyes, he signalled them to move farther away from the road. Saben followed them. When they stopped in a thicket, Paks saw that his face was pale under the leafmold.
“What is it?” asked Canna.
“They’re there,” he said in a strange choked voice. “I counted twelve horses tethered along that fence—you remember. They’ve—they’ve killed the farmers—and their families. The—the bodies are just—lying around. Like— like old rags, or—” His voice broke, and he stopped, choking back sobs. Paks had a sudden vision of an army in Three Firs. She had never thought of that, of armed men coming onto her father’s farm—her brothers and sisters —
“Saben!” Canna shook his arm. “Saben, stop it. You’ve seen dead before. It’s terrible, yes, but we don’t want to be next—”
He looked up, eyes wet. “But we’re fighters, Canna—that’s what we’re for. Those weren’t soldiers; they didn’t have a chance.”
“Saben, it’s only your second year—and we don’t do things like that—but surely you know that some armies do.”
“If only we’d come faster, we might have stopped them,” he said.
“Three of us? With daggers? Remember what you said last night, Saben.”
“But our people,” said Paks. “What about our people? If they’d kill farmers like that, what will they do to soldiers?”
“Paks, don’t think about it. All we can do is get help: tell the Duke. Whatever can be done, he’ll do. You know that.” Canna turned back to Saben. “Do they look like they’ll be there long?”
Saben took a shaky breath, then another. “Yes. They—they were cooking. One of the cattle, I think. They’re all around the fire.”
“Then we can slip past, probably, and we’d better—” She broke off as a rattle of hooves rang out on the road.
“One horse,” said Paks. “Messenger?”
“Could be.”
