«Rovers.» Wil spat the word out like a bitter pill. «They crossed here during the night and stole him.»
Amberle looked surprised. «Are you sure?»
«I’m sure.» Wil nodded. «I found their tracks. Besides, no one else could have managed it. Artaq would have called out if it were anyone but an expert horse handler, and the Rovers are the best. Look, they’re already gone.»
He pointed across the river to the spot on the empty grasslands the caravan had occupied the previous night. They stared at it silently for a moment.
«What do we do now?» Amberle asked finally.
Wil was so mad he could barely speak. «First we go back and pack our things. Then we cross the river and have a look at their campsite.»
They returned to their own camp, hastily put together the few items they had carried with them, and returned to the river. They crossed at the shallows without difficulty. Minutes later they stood at the now–deserted Rover camp. Once more Wil began studying the ground, moving more quickly this time as he paced the area from end to end. Finally he walked back to where Amberle stood waiting.
«My Uncle Flick taught me to read signs when I hunted the woods about my home in Shady Vale,” he informed her conversationally, his mood considerably improved. «We used to fish and trap the Duln Forests for weeks at a time when I was little. Always thought I might again have need of what I learned someday.»
She nodded impatiently «What did you find?»
«They’ve gone west, probably just before daybreak.»
«Is that all. Isn’t there some indication of whether or not Artaq is with them?»
«Oh, he’s with them, all right. Back at the shallows, there are signs of a horse going into the river from the other side and coming out again over here. One horse, several men. No mistake, they’ve got him. But we’re going to get him back again.»
She looked at him doubtfully. «You mean you’re going after them?»
«Of course I’m going after, them!» He was getting angry all over again. «We’re both going after them.»
«Just you and me, Valeman?» She shook her head. «On foot?»
«We can catch up to them by nightfall. Those wagons are slow.»
«That assumes that we can find them, doesn’t it?»
«There’s no trick to that. At one time, I could track a deer through wilderness timber where there hadn’t been rain for weeks. I think I can manage to track an entire caravan of wagons across open grasslands.»
«I don’t like the sound of this at all,” she announced quietly «Even if we do find them and they do have Artaq, what are we supposed to do about it?»
«We’ll worry about that when we catch up to them,” he replied evenly.
The Elven girl did not back away. «I think that we should worry about it right now. That’s an entire camp of armed men you’re talking about chasing after. I don’t like what’s happened any better than you do, but that’s hardly sufficient excuse for failing to exercise sound judgment.»
With an effort, Wil held his temper. «I am not about to lose that horse. In the first place, if it weren’t for Artaq, the Demons would have had us back at Havenstead. He deserves a better fate than spending the rest of his years in the service of those thieves. In the second place, he is the only horse we had and the only horse we are likely to get. Without him, we will be forced to walk the rest of the way to Arborlon. That will take more than a week, and most of that week will be spent crossing these open grasslands. That increases rather substantially the chances of our being discovered by those things still searching for us. And I don’t like the sound of that. We need Artaq.»
«You seem to, have made up your mind on this,” she said expressionlessly.
He nodded. «I have. Besides, the Rovers are traveling toward the Westland anyway; at least we’ll be headed in the right direction.»
For a moment she didn’t say anything; she merely looked at him. Then finally she nodded.
«All right, we’ll go after them. I want Artaq back too. But let’s think this through a bit further before we catch up to them. We had better have some sort of plan worked out by then, Valeman.»
He grinned disarmingly. «We will.»
They walked all day through the open grasslands, following the trail of the Rover caravan. It was hot and dry, and the sun beat down on them from out of a cloudless blue sky. They found little shade along the way to relieve them from the heat. What water they carried was soon gone, and they did not run across even a small stream to replenish their supply. By late afternoon, all they could taste in their mouths was the dust of the plains and their thirst. Leg muscles ached and their feet blistered. They spoke to each other only infrequently, conserving their strength, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, watching the sun sink slowly into the horizon ahead of them until all that remained of the day was a dull orange glow above the sweep of the land.
A short time later, it began to darken, the day to disappear into dusk, the dusk into night. Still they walked on, no longer able to find the marks of the wagon wheels in the plains grass, relying now on their sense of direction to keep them moving in a straight line westward. Moon and stars brightened in the night sky, casting down upon the open grasslands their faint light to guide the Valeman and the Elven girl as they moved steadily forward. Dirt and sweat cooled and dried on their bodies, and they felt their clothing stiffen uncomfortably. Neither suggested stopping to the other. Stopping meant admitting they would not catch up to the caravan that night, that they would be forced to go on like this for another day. They kept walking, silent, determined, the girl as much so as the man now, a fact that surprised him and caused him to feel genuine admiration for her spirit.
Then they saw light in the distance ahead, a fire burning through the dark like a beacon, and they realized that they had found the Rovers. Wordlessly, they trudged to within shouting distance of the firelight, watching the peaked roofs of the wagon homes gradually take shape in the night until finally the entire caravan stood revealed, wound into a loose circle as it had been on the banks of the Mermidon.
Wil took hold of Amberle’s arm and gently pulled her down into a crouch.
«We’re going in,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving the Rover camp.
She looked at him in disbelief. «That’s your plan?»
«I know something of these people. Just go along with whatever I say and we’ll be fine.»
Without waiting for her response, he stood up and began walking toward the caravan. The Elven girl stared after him for a moment, then rose to her feet and followed after. As they drew closer to the circled wagons, the faces of the men, women, and children passing within the firelight grew visible. Laughter and bits of conversation became audible and distinct. The Rovers had just finished their evening meal and were visiting casually with one another. From somewhere within the camp came the soft thrum of a stringed instrument.
Twenty yards from the perimeter of the circle, Wil called out. It surprised Amberle so that she jumped. Within the camp, everyone instantly stopped what was being done, and all heads turned in their direction. There was a sudden scrambling of feet as a handful of men appeared at the gap between the wagons nearest the approaching pair. Wordlessly, the men peered out into the night, the firelight behind them now, leaving them shadowed and faceless. Wil did not slow. He kept walking directly toward them, Amberle a step or two behind. The entire caravan had gone suddenly still.
«Good evening,” Wil said cheerfully as he reached the gathering of Rovers who blocked their passage into the camp.
The men said nothing. In the glimmer of the firelight, the Valeman caught a glimpse of metal blades.
«We saw your fire and we thought you might give us something to drink,” he continued, still smiling. «We’ve been walking since daybreak without water and we’re about worn out.»
Someone pushed his way through the knot of silent men, a tall man in a cloak of forest green and a broad– brimmed hat the man they had seen at the river.
«Ah, our young travelers from last evening,” he announced quietly and not in greeting.
«Hello again,” Wil responded pleasantly. «I’m afraid we’ve had some very bad luck. We lost our horse during the night he must have wandered off while we were sleeping. We’ve been walking all day without water and we could use something cool to drink.»
«Indeed.» The big man smiled without warmth. He was tall, well over six feet, lean and rawboned, his dark face shaded with a black beard and mustache that gave his smile an almost menacing appearance. Eyes that looked blacker than the night about them peered out from beneath a lined and weathered brow that sloped into a nose
