“Either way,” Wilmot says. “It’s no concern of ours.”
I bristle. “The woods are our land. If travelers were kidnapped—”
He raises a hand. “I mean that it cannot be our concern right now, Rowan. A brief stop to investigate a possible monster attack is an acceptable diversion. But there is no sign that monsters did this, and so we must continue on and advise the authorities upon our return.”
“May we at least check the packs?” I ask. “Attempt to identify those who went missing, so I may pass that information to my mother?”
He nods. “Quickly.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
We find nothing identifying in the tents, but as we search one of them, Alianor becomes agitated. No one else notices. It’s just me and her and Kaylein in the tent with three packs, and Kaylein is too preoccupied to see how quickly Alianor closes the pack she’s searching.
“Anything?” I ask.
She shakes her head and busies herself adjusting her bootlace. “Nothing of note.”
I hesitate. “May I have a look?”
“Of course.”
She helps Kaylein while I check the pack. It contains women’s clothing and several books. I pull out two science texts. Geology, far above my level. I put them away and keep digging, finding only personal items.
When I leave the tent, the others are already waiting to go.
“Did anyone find any valuables?” I ask.
“No,” Cedany says, “but when you travel across the mountains, you’d be advised to hide valuables on your person, in case of bandits.”
“Did we find anything that suggests this wasn’t bandits?” I ask. “Either Tamarelian or foreign?” I add the last so Alianor won’t feel targeted again.
Everyone says no. The packs contained only personal items, nothing that could be resold. I’m not sure whether to be relieved or not. I hoped to find something to prove it wasn’t bandits, and therefore Alianor’s clan couldn’t be responsible.
This has always been the awkward part of our friendship. Other people go to prison for the things her family does. It’s only their name that keeps them safe. Our country was formed through a union between the clans. Taking away Clan Bellamy’s livelihood would be like taking away Clan Hadleigh’s right to guide on the rivers or Clan Montag’s right to fish the seas.
Dad always grumbled that we should just give Clan Bellamy land and tell them to start farming. Mom would ask where we’d find this land for them to farm. Force people off theirs so Clan Bellamy could have it?
No, the only solution is infuriating, endless, excruciatingly slow negotiation. Currently, it’s around the tolls. Mom wants the clan to be clear why they’re demanding money for passage and request it as soon as travelers start on the trails, rather than intercepting them after several days, which is kind of like charging someone after they’ve eaten three-quarters of the food you left out.
The fact remains that my best friend is a bandit warlord’s daughter. Mostly, Alianor and I just don’t talk about that. I’m not sure that’s the right answer. Especially after watching her going through that pack. I suspect that whatever she saw confirmed that her family did this.
I can’t worry about that now. Wilmot is right that we need to get moving. I ask him to allow me to quickly comb the surrounding woods with Malric, to get an idea of where the hostages may have been taken. He hesitates, but again only tells me to be quick. Unless Malric finds that the trail heads in the same direction we’re going, we can’t follow it.
The problem is that the travelers left scent trails every time they headed to the water or ventured out to forage for nuts and berries. Their attackers also would have left trails as they skulked about preparing to strike. That means a whole web of scents.
I’ve been following Malric, while Jacko hops along, madly sniffing the ground. I’m wondering whether he has any idea what we’re looking for when he lets out an alert cry, and I dive into the brush to see…goat tracks. Jacko prances around, head high, clearly pleased with himself.
I step back toward the clearing, only to spot someone in the forest. I stop short and duck to peek. Malric sighs and shakes his head, telling me I’ve made a mistake that is, to him, as foolish as Jacko’s.
The figure in the forest is one of our own party. Alianor. I realize that when she crouches and the fading sun winks off her jeweled hair clip. I’d given that clip to what I thought was a poor flower girl. It’d been Alianor spying on me outside the castle. She’s since offered to return the clip—one of my favorites—but I told her to keep it, and she wears it all the time. Because we’re friends. Best friends. I wanted her to have something special of mine that she obviously admires, and she wants me to know she treasures it.
I need to speak to her about what she found in that tent. The subject must be approached with care so I don’t damage our friendship.
I step toward her. That’s when the sun winks off something silver. Not the clip this time, but something in Alianor’s hand. A necklace? A bracelet? It’s a silver chain caught on a bush, and she’s bent to untangle it. Once it’s free, she holds it up.
“Alianor?” I say.
She jumps and deftly tucks the chain into her pocket as she rises, making a show of brushing off her leggings.
“Hey,” she says. “Find anything?”
“No. You?”
“Nope.”
She walks toward me, and I duck past to where she’d found the chain. She grabs at my arm saying, “We should go,” but I keep moving. Once at the spot, I survey it.
“Broken twigs,” I say. “Someone came through here.”
“Someone or something. I found goat tracks over there.”
“So did I, but there’s a boot impression here.”
She bends to examine it, and I expect her to claim it’s something else, but she says, “That’s definitely a boot print. Can Malric follow the trail from here?”
I ask him.
