a bodyguard. He was followed by most of Amdi, his beaded cloaks sparkling in the spotlights. After Amdi’s six came Jefri, not so gaudy, though the lamps did strange interference-fringy things with his clothing. Ravna, no doubt invisible in the glare, walked near the back of the wagon. Everybody but her was a fine target.
Amdi was bumptiously loud now, piping the equivalent of cheerful humming. “Just wanna make sure they don’t start shooting out of surprise.”
“Not much chance of surprise,” said Jefri, looking up into the trees around them. The wide, low-set limbs should be easy to climb, even for Tines. “I’ll bet they’re tracking us with nocked arrows.”
As if to prove the point, something member-sized dropped from a low branch and ran forward around the rightmost of Amdi, and then out in front of Screwfloss. That pack started to give chase, then brought itself back.
The newcomer was Ritl. Maybe it
But the singleton did not keep running. About ten meters beyond Screwfloss, it settled into a sedate promenade and started to blabber on its own. It sounded like doors crashing shut.
“
“I think she’s trying to announce us.” Amdi dithered a moment, stopping the wagon. “She’s playing something like royal pomp, but with her own nonsense lyrics.” On the ground, Amdi spread out a little, and Ravna guessed he was focusing audio on Ritl. The singleton stumbled, and briefly looked back at Amdiranifani. Then the creature executed an indignant flounce and pranced on, its cacophony louder than ever.
The lights on their wagon showed trees thick on both sides of the path, the remaining twilight a dim patch of gray overhead. The sound of the waterfall was clear and loud ahead. They were truly committed. Forcibly retrieving Ritl and starting over was not an option.
Amdi must have concluded the same. The six resumed their walk, while the two on the wagon cautiously eased the kherhogs into the descent. Ravna caught her first glimpse of what Amdi called the “winch station.” It looked like a small ferry mooring—except that it hung from the side of a cliff. Next to it was what seemed to be a large waterwheel, an arc of shadow biting into the river. Their own path led down to a building close by the waterwheel.
“See the arrow slits?” said Jefri, but he wasn’t talking about the view below. He pointed to the side of the road just ahead, to pitch-dark slots cut in a timber barricade. “We didn’t see that this afternoon.”
The wagon’s lights would be blinding to anyone that close. “Amdi,” said Ravna, “dim the lights.” Sometimes, intimidating the other side just got you killed.
“Okay.” One of him on the wagon glanced back at her. Amdi’s sound effects ceased, leaving just Ritl’s flourishes banging away up ahead. The lights stayed bright.
“Well?” said Ravna.
“Urk. I’m thinking what to do!” Then he was speaking Tinish, fast and unintelligible.
Maybe there was a sound behind her; maybe it was Amdi’s sudden weirdness. Ravna looked behind her. She was not alone. The closest pack held a crossbow with an enormous quarrel—the point of which was less than ten centimeters from her nose.
Chapter 27
Humans and kherhogs were forced down the hill, into a large shed that was smelly and filled with hay. A few tendays ago, Ravna Bergsndot would have thought this was serious mistreatment. But indoors, with the kherhogs, it was warm enough. And the hay had no fermenter stench.
“Maybe we still have a chance with the godling scam,” said Jefri. He was tied to a pillar at the far side of the barn from Ravna.
“Yes, and we rate heavy weapons.” Two packs, each with a huge crossbow.
“Yeah, what foolish—”
The pack nearest to him hissed loudly and crashed its weapon against the side of Jefri’s head. He went down without a sound.
“Jefri!” Ravna pulled against her tether. The pack guarding her pushed its weapon into her midsection, knocking her back. She lay quiet for a moment, then rolled slightly forward and looked across the floor. A small mantle lamp hung from a rafter above Jefri. It must have been very dim to Tinish eyes, but for her it was more than adequate. She saw Jefri’s hand move in an “I’m okay” gesture. She signalled “okay” back. The guards didn’t react. Jefri’s hand moved slowly into other gestures.
It was the sign language the Children had invented in their first few years on Tines World. By nature, Tines had an enormous advantage when it came to covert communication. The Children used their signing as a counter strategy. Some of their Tinish friends had learned to understand the signing, but in semidarkness, the packs couldn’t even see it. Ravna remembered the kids chortling over their secret “message channel.” It had been endearing and silly … and Ravna had never bothered to learn much of it.
After a moment, Jefri seemed to realize she couldn’t understand. He gave her another “okay” sign and settled back. She watched him for a long while. There were different degrees of “okay.”
Remnant Screwfloss showed up an hour later, herded in by another guard. Screwfloss didn’t rate a permanent guard, but he was a prisoner. He paced around at the limits of his tethers, more talkative than she had seen him since his partial death. He seemed to be arguing with the guards. They didn’t beat him up, though after a bit of chitchat, one guard flicked a long whip at him. The remnant retreated, looking more surly than intimidated. He settled down in apparent silence, peering around at Jefri and Ravna. Jef had rolled onto his side to look back, but didn’t try to communicate.
Ravna drifted uncomfortably in and out of sleep, vaguely aware of the kherhogs shuffling around their big manger. She had dreams, and thought she heard Tinish music. What had become of poor Amdi?
The new day was leaking gray light under the eaves when someone pounded on the barn door. Two members from one guard slid the door open. Ravna squinted into the brightness, which in fact was no more than drizzly morning twilight. Something—Ritl—came bounding in, loud and argumentative. Behind the singleton came Amdi, and a sociable distance behind him there was another pack. Amdi looked in all directions. “Jefri? Ravna?”
“Over here.” Jefri’s voice was a groan.
“And here,” said Ravna.
“You’re hurt!” Amdi surrounded Jefri, patting him, touching his face.
“Hei, not there! It’s just a bruise, Amdi.”
“Okay. But they were supposed to treat you well.” Two of him looked back at the stranger, hissing at him in Tinish. Ravna had never seen Amdi complain to another so firmly.
Maybe … “So what about the god scam?” she asked.
“I—I blew it. The locals are nervous about humans, but many of them don’t believe you can think at all. Even so, I might have had a chance except that this stupid,
Ritl was circling Amdi, crowding into his personal space and chording all the while. Amdiranifani turned all his heads on Ritl and blasted her with a focused hiss of annoyance. The singleton gave a whistle of pain and retreated to a far corner of the barn.
“Sorry, sorry. I don’t mean to hurt anyone, not even that silly idiot, but she came close to getting us all killed—” He said something Tinish to the guards and the third pack, and they all honked raucous laughter. Evidently, he was carrying on two very different conversations.
Jefri came to his knees. His eyes were on the nearest guard and its crossbow-cum-club. “So what is the deal, Amdi? It looks like you have something going with these guys.”
“I do, I do. At least it’s better than nothing. Look, I’ll explain on the way down okay? The Winchmaster wants us on our way while the storm runoff is still manageable. If we hustle, there’s time for you to get some hot food first. I negotiated—”
Now Ravna could smell it. One of the guard packs was rolling in two steaming wheelbarrows of … slop? No,
