however, was probably just a vague fantasy in his mind.
Of course, he might change his plans at the last moment. When he saw the naked reality of what he was facing. When his death was there waiting for his next forward step.
Radstac, despite years of seeing men and women lose their lives in battle, hoped Deo would recant. This was senseless. A waste.
She eyed Deo sidelong, his handsome rugged profile. A face of heavy bones. Fatigue in those blue eyes. Being born into the vast privileges of the nobility hadn't ruined his honor, his sense of responsibility. She wondered—the thought sharp and
Now he had recast himself as an assassin, a ready-made folk hero who would be remembered for a failed, but valiant, deed.
And she—would she be remembered by these Isthmusers? If so, it could only be as the one who had allowed the hero to meet his fate.
She didn't want it. She wanted Deo alive. Ahead, a hand flew into the air among the trees and bramble. Anzal, on the lead horse. She was a very able leader, Radstac judged. Her band was loyal. Yet the full dozen had been purchased with Deo's promissory note.
Radstac lunged for Deo's reins, even as she nimbly drew her own mount to a halt. But Deo had seen the signal, too. The whole band was stopping, hooves clambering, dust roiling through the trees.
Her hand fell to her sword. If there was to be a fight, it wouldn't be the first one she had fought while under the influence of
The bandits were silent, weapons at the ready. At the front of the pack, Anzal was standing in her stirrups, peering at something through the trees that Radstac—maddeningly—couldn't see. Not even the leaf half she'd chewed helped. But this territory belonged to these bandits; they knew it intimately, and they knew when something wasn't right. Or so it seemed.
Deo sat calmly in the saddle.
Finally Anzal came down from hers. Murmuring softly to the others in the band, she walked back down the line. On foot she barely came up to Radstac's kidskin boot.
'Someone's encamped,' the bandit chief said quietly. Her eyes indicated the direction through the woods.
'An army?' Radstac asked. Had they reached the Felk faster than expected? She didn't like the thought.
'Smaller. A lot smaller.' Anzal went to tell the rest.
They all dismounted.
'Why don't we go around?' Deo asked, but he spoke . the question mildly. Anzal had returned.
'Turfs ours,' the chief said, shrugging her muscular shoulders. 'If somebody's on it, we need to know who. They might have friends.'
Which meant this wasn't simply a matter of animal territoriality, Radstac noted. True professionals then. That was good.
'I'll go with you,' Deo said to Anzal, who was gathering up a small party.
'No need.'
'If I decide I go, I go.'
The chief frowned a moment, but Deo's words were certainly true. She moved off to the tall lad who was the expert archer.
'Why should you go?' Radstac wanted to know. It meant, of course, that she would go with him.
'Do these waylayers know the Felk?' A glimmer of his familiar charming smile crossed his features.
'Do you?' she countered. 'Have you ever laid eyes on one in your life?'
'No. I never cared for the Isthmus's less gentle northerly climes. But from what I've gathered from the intelligence reports Uncle has received, I believe I can recognize a uniformed soldier. Or a wizard.'
Radstac didn't fear wizards or wizardry. She was of the Southsoil, and she gave no quarter to baseless dreads. Nonetheless, she didn't know the extent of the powers these Felk mages might possess, or how she could successfully protect her client against such talents.
Regardless of what magic could do, she told herself as they prepared to move out, a blade could always cut flesh.
She had her heavy combat sword in hand as they fanned out quietly through the trees. Anzal, the archer, one other bandit, herself, and Deo. Deo still at her side. He hadn't drawn his sword, but he was tensed, ready, as they stalked through the woods.
It was late morning. There were birds making song and flitting among the wide canopy of branches overhead, small animals rustling through the brush. Good. Cover noise. Radstac let a glint of teeth show in her doubly scarred face. She felt the dark powerful current of combat readiness moving her blood through her veins.
They crept along low, in the direction Anzal had indicated. The three bandits demonstrated admirable stealth. Radstac peered ahead, picking out the movements of individual leaves, careful not to let her growing frustration throw her off. What exactly had Anzal seen?
Then she picked out the figures. They were glimpses among the trees. A camp. Yes. They were in a clearing. Radstac smelled meat cooked over a fire.
Anzal was gesturing sharply at her. She had missed the first signal. The bandit chief glared; Radstac still was not popular with this band. She put a hand to Deo's arm, and they both halted, crouched in the brush.
They were six. Two in dark robes, four in military uniforms. They lolled about the small camp. Deo studied the figures intently. Radstac had already plotted out the best way to raid the camp and slay its occupants—not that she saw any need for such an action. Deo's original idea was surely best. Just go around this camp. Anzal signaled the retreat.
When they returned to the horses, it was Deo who spoke first. 'They're Felk. They've got to be scouting out Trael.'
'Shouldn't we take them, just for the sake of good manners?' ventured the archer with a smirk.
'Shut up, Frog.' Anzal shot the boy a glare. To Deo she said, 'I agree. Scouts. That army's not going to be far away now.'
Deo nodded. 'But we need to capture one of those soldiers. I've got questions I want to ask.'
'No way to pick off one,' Radstac said. 'Have to raid the whole camp.'
Anzal's ready glare turned her way once more. 'We can handle that. But what about those two in the robes? Are they soldiers, too?'
Deo pursed his lips a moment. 'I believe those two are wizards,' he finally said.
Radstac watched the shock ripple through the band. Fearful faces turned toward one another. It was comical— and so typical of these Isthmusers. This was still a young land, and these were young peoples, with juvenile cultures. They were unsettled by fears that adults learned to manage.
Protesting voices were rising, some quivering. Anzal silenced everyone harshly, clouting the archer—Frog— who had lost his smirk the instant Deo had said
'Actually,' Deo continued, unperturbed by the hub-bub, 'it's one of those wizards I want to talk to.' Again he allowed a glimpse of his smile. He owned these bandits. They were bought and paid for, and what he said stood.
Radstac saw that realization reach the entire group. Comical indeed. But she didn't laugh. Instead she set about explaining how they could take the camp.
THEY HAD TO kill one to prove they were serious. Likely they'd have to kill all these Felk in the end, Radstac figured. What were they going to do—take prisoners?
The bandits prowled silently into their positions, ringing the little clearing. None of the Felk had a weapon in hand. A crossbow leaned against a tumbled log, but no one was near it. Frog shot an arrow into the embers of the cooking fire, sending up a cloud of sparks.
'Surrender yourselves—now!' Radstac called. She was behind a thick tree trunk, observing the camp
