Colo declined the hand, raking Kit over with a glance before hurrying off and squatting a few feet distant from the three of them with her back to the campsite, busying herself at something. Peeking over her shoulder, Kit could see that the diminutive female mercenary was engaged in throwing a cup of stones and bones, poring over their configuration.
"Not very friendly," Kit grumped, albeit good-naturedly, to Ursa. The mercenary had sat down on a rock near the fire that she and Droopface had started. Kit poured herself some tea from a container that had been warming over the low flames.
"It's not your fault," said Ursa, his eyebrows furrowed. "She's convinced we're under an ill omen."
"How cheerful."
Ursa began to unpack his bedroll. "Just a run of bad luck," he said, his mouth set in a hard, thin line. "It started four months ago, when Radisson was killed and El-Navar disappeared. We've been on the run ever since. Haven't been able to get back into things. She thinks we're being followed."
"Followed?" asked Kit. "By who?"
"Whoever it was, we lost them," boasted Ursa confidently. "We've been zigzagging between places and covering our tracks. Our luck is starting to turn. Isn't my liberation of Cinnamon proof of that?"
"What about Radisson—and El-Navar?" Kit felt compelled to ask. "You haven't told me what happened to them."
He sat on a rock opposite her. Kit noticed that Droopface had set down his book and was listening intently. Colo was paying them no attention, her back still turned, consulting her oracles.
"We were outside a small nothing village, across the channel and three hundred miles southwest of here. Radisson went into town with El-Navar looking for some drink and—" he watched Kit's reaction "—female companionship. They went into a tavern called the Double Shiner. Everybody knows about the place, an old standby for wayfarers in those parts. They should have been safe there. We were forty miles from any enemies, forty miles from our last job."
"But there had been signs," ventured Droopface solemnly. Kitiara was so surprised to hear the sad-faced mercenary speak so adamantly that she nearly dropped her tin cup into the fire. Ursa, reaching over to pour himself a mug of tea, nodded at Droopface's comment.
"Yes. Somebody or something had been following us. I don't know who or why. There were strange birds in the sky and unfamiliar noises at night. I thought it was wiser to stay clear of people, stick together. But Radisson wanted to get away and have some pleasure, and El-Navar said he would go with him." He paused, frowning. "They ought to have been safe. Radisson can outwit most regular people, and El-Navar has the strength of a half-dozen."
"What happened?" asked Kit anxiously.
"Don't know," Droopface shook his head ruefully. "Don't know."
"When they didn't come back," continued Ursa, "we went into town to look for them. The Double Shiner had been leveled—destroyed. It was almost as if it had been uprooted and ripped to bits and sucked away somewhere, so that the ground was littered with its remnants.
"Everything was gone but its center post, from which dangled Radisson's body. He wore no clothing. His eyes had been dug out, and over his body were scribblings done with a knife point. A thousand little cuts and holes and markings all over his body."
"And El-Navar?" Kit tried to keep her voice even, while in her mind flashed memories of the sinewy Karnuthian. She remembered his deep, mellifluous voice; the hair like writhing snakes; the gentleness of his touch; the power of a panther that lay dormant within him.
"Gone too. Vanished. No evidence of his death or any clue as to his whereabouts. Colo there—" he indicated the female mercenary, preoccupied with her soothsaying "—is an able tracker. She could find nothing."
"Even if the townspeople could have told us anything," added Droopface, "they wouldn't. They were too afraid to talk-There was a long silence after that remark. Ursa swirled his tea. Droopface got up and went over to his pack, preparing to go to sleep. Colo gave Ursa a sharp look, then went to her horse and unstrapped her bedroll.
"As I was saying," said Ursa, ignoring Colo and taking one last sip of his tea before tossing the dregs on the ground, "our luck is changing. We haven't encountered any difficulty for weeks, and now we happen upon you." He flashed Kitiara one of his old brisk grins. "Grown up some and even more skilled as a fighter than I remember." She had to grin back.
"It will be good to work together again," he finished.
"What's the job you mentioned?"
"It's not much of a job, but it'll bring a fair price. A slig is terrorizing a community just forty miles north of here, someplace called Kimmel."
"What's a slig?" asked Kit.
"Oh," Ursa laughed. "A slig is a rare experience. You'll find out soon enough. Here—" he kicked some twigs and branches onto the fire "—you take first watch. Wake me up to relieve you."
She noticed that he made up his bedroll close to Colo, who was already asleep.
* * * * *
For a day and a half they progressed northward into hill country, following scrawled directions that Ursa fished out of his pocket and consulted at intervals. They gravitated to lesser roads and dirt paths until, in the late afternoon of the second day, they came to a rushing river that they followed upstream in the direction of a small farming village named for the leading family, Kimmel.
The late autumn days were blustery, and the nights at this altitude increasingly cold. But the weather stayed dry, and Kit liked the snap of early winter.
Kitiara had to admit she felt strangely comfortable being with Ursa and Droopface again. Ursa had his swagger back, and she enjoyed his bragging about exploits. Droopface, with his long, inscrutable
