El-Navar bent down on his knees so that he was peering into Kit's eyes. 'How about it, Kitiara?' he asked. 'Why were you following us?'
His tone had softened, but his eyes glittered with a diamond-hard light. The gold hoop swayed as he leaned forward.
'I wanted to join up,' she said vaguely.
'What?' asked Radisson brusquely. Ursa's face was impassive.
'Join up. I wanted to join up,' Kit repeated, this time more strongly.
El-Navar let go of her chin and stood up, shaking his head and chuckling to himself. This seemed to break the tension, and, in spite of himself, Ursa managed a tentative smile. The sad-faced reader, slouched over his book, continued to ignore them. Only Radisson looked confused and irritated.
'What are we then, some kind of volunteer fire brigade?' asked El-Navar.
'No.' Kitiara hesitated. 'I wanted to help take care of Gwathmey's son,' she ventured boldly.
The smiles vanished. Even the reader heard this and looked up anxiously. Ursa stood and drew El-Navar aside, speaking to him in a whisper. Radisson glared at Kit. El-Navar looked over his shoulder, then nodded in agreement to something that Ursa had said. He broke from Ursa, who sat back down.
'How much do you know?' asked El-Navar tersely.
'Too much! Now we've got to kill her!' exclaimed Radisson.
'Try it!' Kit dared. Again, with startling swiftness, Radisson lunged toward her, but El-Navar was quicker this time and blocked his movement, shoving the smaller man aside. Radisson looked daggers at him, but there was nothing he could do against the bigger man whose charismatic presence-if not his actual size-commanded respect.
'Don't be so hasty, Radisson,' admonished El-Navar. 'Think with your head. This girl is no match for you, even though she is your equal in other respects. A ringer in size, for example, which might have its value.'
Although Kit didn't understand why, something that El-Navar said, something about his tone of voice, sent a message to Radisson. Instead of getting angrier, the weaselly one paced over near where Kit sat. He gazed at her, his expression altered and thoughtful.
El-Navar also circled Kit, studying her. 'I say we take her along,' he declared after long moments had passed. 'Let her… as she says, 'join up.' '
Ursa looked at Kitiara and back at El-Navar. Although his face was a tightly controlled mask, he shrugged to indicate his indifference. Still unsmiling, he stared at Kit with his dark, mercurial eyes.
'Maybe,' said Radisson stubbornly.
'Look at her,' El-Navar said to Radisson. 'She's just about your size, isn't she? And she has pluck. It would minimize the risk to us and put you where you're needed most.'
After a long hesitation, Radisson shrugged a reluctant agreement. Kit noticed that nobody bothered to consult the fourth member of the party-Droopface, as she had begun to think of him.
'Is that a good horse you're riding? Can you ride fast, Kitiara?' asked El-Navar.
'Fast enough!' she said excitedly.
He cut her bonds. 'Then you're one of us,' he declared, clapping her on her shoulder.
Kitiara rubbed her wrists ruefully and looked at the four faces staring at her. Although she didn't feel entirely confident, she forced a smile.
'Well…' said the weaselly man.
'C'mon, Radisson!' boomed El-Navar. 'Don't be a jackass. Shake hands with our new partner!'
They continued riding northeast all the next day and the day after that.
Except for Radisson, who maintained his wary demeanor toward her, the others appeared to accept Kit. However, where they were going and exactly what they were going to do remained a mystery. At least Kit could extract no further details, no matter how hard she tried. 'Be patient,' said El-Navar whenever she brought up the subject. 'All in good time.'
El-Navar was most enigmatic. Like the people Gregor had once told Kit about, by day he seemed one person, by night another. When the sun was out, El-Navar disappeared into his cowl; indeed he seemed to disappear from the group. He became sleepy-eyed, almost somnambulant, with little of the extroverted personality that he displayed after dark. He kept up with the other riders, but rode slumped over, saying very little.
Under the sun, Ursa was definitely the leader. But after a long day's ride, after making camp and eating supper, Ursa
was usually so tired that one feared he would not make his watch. At just around that time, the Karnuthian grew exuberant and full of energy. There was obviously some understanding between Ursa and El-Navar, and neither sought the upper hand.
The tall, sad-faced one continued to say very little to anyone. His responsibilities included the horses and the meals, cooking the small game they managed to trap or shoot along the way. Kit had asked him his name and been told. It was Cleverdon, a name she had a hard time remembering in connection with such a strange character. So Kit called him 'Droopface.' The others were so amused by this that the nickname stuck.
Much to Kit's annoyance, Ursa continued to treat her coldly. She decided to be grand about it and tried to bolster their friendship by riding alongside him and drawing him out. On the first day she could barely get him to nod in her direction.
On the second, she had better luck. Ursa smiled when she rode up. Surprised and pleased, Kit decided to ask him about Gregor, who was much on her mind these days, or rather, nights.
'Ursa, that day we first met you said you had heard of my father. Have you heard of him since?'
Ursa looked away. 'No,' he said shortly when he glanced back in her direction.
'I remember you told me that Gregor was in the north, the last you heard,' she persisted. 'Was that anywhere near where we're going? Do you think there's any chance our paths will cross?'
Despite her best efforts to remain in control of her emotions, Kit knew she sounded plaintive.
'Kitiara, that was a long time ago and very far from where we are bound. Let me give you some advice. If Gregor Uth Matar chose to go so far away, either he doesn't want to be found by you-' here Ursa paused '-or he is dead.'
'Dead! Why do you say that?' But Kit's queries only reached Ursa's back as he galloped off to scout what lay ahead.
North by east they rode until they were high in the Eastwall Mountains, surrounded on all sides by rocks and slopes. On the third night they stopped early. Kit picked up a distinct air of anticipation as the others sharpened weapons and checked their equipment. The horses also received special care; Radisson made sure they were amply fed and watered.
Droopface made a haricot stew that they all gulped down hungrily. Afterward, he retreated some distance from the others and read his favorite book, slobbering over the pages until he fell asleep the way he always did, sitting upright. Radisson wrapped himself in his blanket and lay down on the ground near the fire. Ursa and El-Navar were studying a piece of parchment-obviously a map-taken from one of El-Navar's pockets, and carrying on a low debate.
After some time, El-Navar came over to where Kit was sitting. 'Let's get to work. I'm going to cut your hair.' He took his short, double-edged blade out and ran it over a rock, watching her.
'Why?' she asked in surprise, raising her hand protectively to her head. 'Isn't it short enough?'
Kitiara heard Ursa grunt with amusement as he turned to his bedroll. It was the first characteristic laugh out of him in several days, albeit at her expense.
'It has to be shorter yet,' explained El-Navar, 'and I need to collect some for tomorrow. Tomorrow's the day the…
'Gwathmey's son?'
El-Navar didn't answer, but Kit let him come closer and comb her hair.
'Ah,' rhapsodized El-Navar. 'You have beautiful hair, Kitiara. Black as midnight. Pity we must chop some of it
