'Are they after us?'
He shook his head. It wasn't clear whether he meant they weren't or that he didn't know. 'We'll keep to the stream for a while, just in case. It would take a good tracker to stay on us.'
Whatever the truth, we never saw any sign of the dogs, though we could hear them for an hour afterwards, their clamour growing fainter until it sounded like the stir of distant thunder. No one suggested going back for our two packhorses, abandoned on the brow of the hill with two thirds of our supplies. We went more furtively after that, as though we all suspected deep down that we'd been saved by luck more than judgement.
That caution probably saved our lives when we had our first real run-in with Moaradrid's patrols. It was just after dusk, and we were pursuing a narrow trail through dense forest when Mounteban threw a hand up, our prearranged signal. We all ducked into the brush. Fortunately, the rhododendrons rising to either side were bulky and overgrown enough to hide even Saltlick. The briefest inspection would have identified bare toes amongst the roots, and the tip of a giant elbow jutting out. Moaradrid's men didn't make one; nor did they try to disguise their own presence. They talked in low mutters, and their chainmail jangled dully with each step. I counted six pairs of feet go past.
We waited until the evening air was absolutely still again before daring to crawl out. I actually felt relieved to have encountered the enemy, especially after the scare with the hounds. It had been all too easy to imagine Moaradrid's army as some implacable entity contracting around us like a fist. To know they were human, and fallible, was oddly reassuring.
Still, we knew now without doubt that they were hunting us, and that they were close. We travelled in absolute silence after that, taking only the narrowest, most obscure pathways or scrambling through the brush. Our already sluggish progress slowed to a crawl. The night wore on, an endless progression of damp foliage, lashing thorns, and unexpected pitfalls. I didn't dare pause for fear of being left behind. I didn't dare eat, lest even that small sound should bring Moaradrid's hordes down on us.
When Mounteban called a halt at last, it was in a deep recess between two hills, with tangles of bramble and whitethorn closing every direction to all but the most intrepid explorer. We'd spent a miserable ten minutes crawling through the perimeter, and I'd assumed he'd picked the route through stupidity or sadism. Once inside, I realised how well the place was sheltered, from both observers and the elements. It was as safe and comfortable a spot as we could have hoped to find.
Mounteban insisted on posting a watch, however, and declared that he'd take first shift. 'Will you join me?' he asked Estrada. 'We should discuss our plans for tomorrow.'
'Of course,' she murmured, and trudged after him into the shadows.
I was glad to see them go. I couldn't have cared less about the tomorrow. I flung myself to the ground, pausing just long enough to drag my cloak around me before my eyes slammed shut. I could hear the others following my example to either side. Saltlick struck the ground like a felled oak. A minute later and their snores were drowning out the faint background hiss of wind through leaves. I lay listening, filled with the strange sensation that my body was still moving even as I lay on the ground.
I began to realise, to my horror, that I wasn't falling asleep. I was beyond exhaustion, yet the dim flicker of my consciousness was refusing to go out. The more I thought about it, the worse it grew. I became suddenly aware of the chill, of the moonlight pressing against my eyelids, of a dozen tiny irritations prodding me towards wakefulness.
I opened my eyes and sat up. I remembered that Mounteban and Estrada were still awake too, talking somewhere off in the blackness. Five minutes of their company would surely lull me to sleep. They might not appreciate my intruding, but tact was the farthest thing from my mind.
There remained the difficulty of finding them. It was impossible to see anything in the shade of the hollow beyond the prone outlines around me and a vague suggestion of deeper dark that must have been bushes. The last thing I wanted was to trip over one of Mounteban's crew and have my sleeplessness cured by a knife in the belly. I settled for crawling forward on hands and knees, using the line of the foliage as a guide. It was a lot of trouble to go to for a little tedious company, but I was so wide awake by then that rest seemed a hopeless impossibility. If conversation stood a chance of curing my insomnia then it was worth damp knees.
I thought after a minute that I could make out hushed voices somewhere nearby. I crept forward and recognised Mounteban's gruff tone, too quiet for me to separate words. I tried to orientate myself by it, and kept moving. There followed a period of quiet. It went on for so long that I began to worry I'd passed them altogether.
Then close by, Estrada spoke. 'I never meant that.'
'Oh?'
'I didn't. I did what was needed.'
'What was needed?'
There was an edge to both their voices. I decided against announcing my presence. I kept still and concentrated on listening instead.
'Castilio, I truly never meant to mislead you.'
'All those visits… did everyone in Muena Palaiya receive so much attention? I couldn't understand, at first. Why a woman like you would spend so much time trying to recruit a scoundrel like me.'
'We needed your help.' Estrada sounded almost tearful. 'There's no point discussing this any further. I'm going to sleep. I hope you'll put it out of your mind.'
I heard the rustle of her cloak as she stood. Then came another sound, of sudden movement, and she cried out. Her voice was abruptly stifled. There was a loud thump, a body or bodies falling upon the turf, and a series of stifled impacts, with the constant background of Estrada's muted cries.
Mounteban grunted in pain, and she sobbed, 'Stop!'
I was on my feet before I knew what I was doing.
'Get off her!'
Silence descended. I realised I had no idea where I was in relation to them. Moments slid by. The dark clotted, the stillness thickened around me.
' Or what?'
I turned to where I thought Mounteban's voice had come from.
'What will you do, you little piss-ant pickpocket?'
A good question. The obvious answer was that I'd briefly divert him with the chore of beating my head into a mush before I let him get back to his business. Why hadn't I kept my nose out? I didn't stand a chance alone against Mounteban.
Except that I wasn't alone.
'What will I do?' I said, with more courage than I felt. 'Well, I'll call Saltlick. And I'll tell him what you had planned for his friend. How about that, Mounteban? I doubt he'll take it too well.'
'He wouldn't hear you.'
'Perhaps you're right. Shall we try?'
I heard the tiniest splash as Mounteban spat into the short grass. 'The three of you deserve each other.' A moment later, his footsteps were receding into the darkness.
When I was certain he'd left, I said quietly, 'Are you all right?'
'No Easie, I'm not all right.'
'It's a good job I arrived when I did.'
'He wouldn't have done anything.' Estrada actually sounded angry with me. Then her voice broke, and she began to cry softly.
I vaguely wanted to say something sensitive, or something that would at least quieten her, but I'd exhausted my supply of sensitivity. Instead, I sat down. With my head that much nearer to the ground, I realised the shock of almost being pummelled had extinguished whatever faint spark had been keeping me conscious. I barely had time to tumble backwards and haul my cloak up over me.
All I could hear as sleep wrapped around me was the lullaby of Estrada's gentle sobbing.
• • • •
I woke to pale sunlight and Estrada furiously shaking my shoulders. I blinked at her, grunted something that was meant to be, 'Leave me alone you insane woman,' and rolled away.
Then I realised what had been strange about the scene. The sun had been far too high and bright for dawn. I
