The others were lying on the other side of the fading fire. They merged into the darkness, transformed into mere dark silhouettes, and it was impossible to make out who was sleeping where. Eel walked by several times, keeping watch. But then, convinced that all was quiet, he sat down not far away.
Eel was probably the only one of my human companions about whom I had not yet formed a definite opinion. Always taciturn and as erect as a pikestaff, the dark-complexioned Garrakan rarely got involved in conversation. Sometimes he threw in a few sparse words, but only in cases when he thought it was worth sharing his opinion with the others.
He was well respected in the unit, that was clear straightaway, but I couldn’t see that Eel had any friends among the Wild Hearts. To him we were all campaign comrades, the companions who would fight beside him, if necessary, against the common enemy, but not at all the kind of friends with whom he could enjoy drinking a glass of beer on some fine spring day. He kept his distance; he didn’t poke his nose into the others’ business and didn’t let them into his confidence. None of the soldiers took offense and they accepted the Garrakan’s character at face value. Once I asked Lamplighter how a man like that had come to be with them.
“I don’t know, he’s not much inclined to talk about his past life,” Mumr said with a shrug. “And we don’t try to force him. The past is every man’s personal business. Take Ash, now—he’s the commander of the Thorns at the Giant—he used to be a petty thief. He wound up in the Wild Hearts when he was still a boy. And now we’d follow him to the Needles of Ice and beyond if need be. And I couldn’t give a damn what he used to do before—thieving, killing, or kidnapping old women. It’s the same thing with Eel. He doesn’t want to talk about anything before he joined up—and that’s his right. I’ve known him for almost ten years, and none of our lads have ever had any reason to doubt his courage. I heard a rumor once that he came from some noble family in Garrak. And I don’t think myself that he’s any kind of simple lad. Just look at the way he handles those swords, like he was born with them. In a word, a nobleman.”
The night bird called again. The brief sound lingered and rippled across the fields, making Eel turn his head sharply in that direction. But the very creature that had made those howls seemed to have taken fright at its own voice.
Sleep still would not come. I was too worried by the fact that Tomcat and Egrassa had been away for so long. The goblin was right when he said something nasty was on the way. What could detain two warriors on a seemingly safe and peaceful road?
Hmm . . .
Was it really that safe? Really that peaceful? It might be only just over a week to Avendoom on horseback, but that didn’t mean everything was peaceful and quiet on the highway. Anything at all could happen. What had Tomcat been so dour and upset about? A whole day before I was introduced to the key, he was already quite obviously concerned, frequently glancing round behind him without any need, staring down the empty road, stroking his cat’s whiskers far too nervously, and muttering strangely to himself under his breath.
What had he seen? What had he sensed? All the others, including Miralissa and Egrassa, who were skilled shamans, had been quite unperturbed.
But then, who could understand a tracker? In their profession, those lads were obliged to see what others failed to notice.
The stars gradually blurred and the world sank into a deep sleep.
I opened my eyes without knowing what had woken me. The crescent moon had sauntered quite a distance across the sky while I was asleep and now it was clutched in the embraces of the Arrow of the Sun, an immense constellation spread out at the very line of the horizon.
Eel was dozing beside Loudmouth, whose mouth was still wide open. More than three hours had passed since I fell asleep and now Uncle and Honeycomb were on watch, having taken over from the Garrakan and Arnkh, who had gone to their beds.
Someone had taken care to prolong the life of the campfire and its small scarlet flower was slowly consuming the sticks of firewood. Miralissa was sitting beside the fire, occasionally dipping a stick into the flames. The fire hissed in annoyance and shot out sparks that went streaking up into the night sky.
I stood up and went toward the elfess, trying not to wake anyone, but I almost stepped on Deler on the way. I sat down cautiously beside her and started watching the fire lick the bark off the stick.
“You cannot sleep either?” she asked after a long silence.
“No.”
I looked at her imperturbable face, at her hair gleaming with scarlet highlights in the light of the campfire.
“It is a good night.” She sighed.
“Bearing in mind that I haven’t spent the night in the fields very often in my life, yes it is. A good night.”
“You have no idea what a lucky man you are,” the elfess said suddenly, her fangs glinting.
I still hadn’t managed to get used to those protruding teeth the elves had. No doubt men are subconsciously afraid of anything different from themselves, especially if the unknown has fangs like that in its mouth.
“Yes, if finding yourself in a situation that leaves you no option but to take a trip to Hrad Spein is good luck,” I replied rather gloomily.
“I won’t try to console you there. You chose a rather risky profession and you knew what you were doing. It’s dangerous to be a thief. But that wasn’t what I meant. How often have you been outside the walls of Avendoom?”
“Three times,” I said after a moment’s thought. “And not farther than five leagues.”
“There, you see. A lucky man. Always close to home.”
“It doesn’t feel all that much like home.”
I had no sentimental yearnings at all for the walls of Avendoom.
