reliable orc changes, a lot of unreliable ones, too. An orc's bigger, harder to control than a goblin, but they're as close as dogs and wolves. A mage who could change one, could change the other.'
'So the Red Wizards are back to meddling with Netherese magic?' She concluded her remark with a sigh and shut the chest with more force than was necessary.
'I didn't say that.'
'You were thinking it.'
Dru hadn't been, but only because it hadn't occurred to him. Now that it had, his mind was alive with connections and possibilities.
'Well, add this to your thoughts. Tiep needs rest. He's blaming himself for what's happened-not that he shouldn't be, but he throws off healing at the best of times and guilt is making everything worse. He's walking and talking, but he's punch-drunk from that rock and feverish from last night's filth. He should bounce back quick enough, but we'll up the odds if we settle in now for the night.'
'Up the odds of what? Another attack? We've just piled up enough fresh meat to attract a dragon, not to mention another pack of these misshapen goblins and whatever lives under the bog. If Tiep's patched up, then I say we get moving.'
Rozt'a got to her feet and hefted the heavy chest to her shoulder. 'Let's not push it, that's all. If we see a good campsite, let's use it. I've done all I can. If he goes into a brain fever, we're going to be stranded for a lot longer than one night-unless you've got some other idea?'
He swallowed hard, not liking her implications. They were going to get out of this with both Galimer and Tiep intact. What they did this winter in Scornubel-whether or not they told Tiep to go his own way-was winter's problem, not today's.
'We'll keep an eye on him-put him astride if he gets wobbly. And keep our eyes open for a campsite, preferably one with a roof.'
The rain had let up and the wind had died back, but the stone-gray clouds weren't breaking up. Dru expected bad weather to return and wasn't disappointed. He tried to convince himself the wet wind was a good thing. Dragons weren't apt to fly through it and a pack of misshapen goblins might not notice a smartly dressed goblin trespassing through their territory.
Dru recalled his conversation with Amarandaris. Ghistpok's goblins had been making enemies of themselves with the other Greypeak goblins. They'd been stealing males and driving the females to exile around Parnast. Sheemzher claimed ties to Ghistpok. If goblins-including misshapen goblins-had some means of identifying their heritage, as moon or gold elves did, then the attack on Sheemzher was understandable, even if not deserved. On the other hand, although Amarandaris had warned Dru that goblins saw demons everywhere, he'd said nothing about misshapen goblins. If Ghistpok's tribe had driven their cousins into exile, then a few odd-armed goblins ought to have shown up in Parnast.
They won't touch a demon, not even to bury it. It's a cult thing, something to do with transformation and deformity. It might be interesting to know why the Greypeaks were home to two goblin races; and what had transformed one but not the other while turning them into blind enemies. Still, both races were goblin-kin and Druhallen had greater worries when thoughts of Amarandaris crossed his mind. A wizard on horseback, riding the Dawn Pass Trail around the Greypeak Mountains, could get to Dekanter faster than they were getting through the bogs and mountains. Dru would sooner face the Beast Lord and a dozen demons before he faced Amarandaris in the shadows of Dekanter.
Early in the afternoon, while they were crossing a bog, Rozt'a spotted what appeared to be a cave in a distant rock formation. She wanted to check it out. Dru said, no, they weren't splitting up and they weren't going off the trail.
'If there's one cave, there's bound to be another, closer to hand.'
It was the wrong thing to say. Rozt'a didn't take well to being overruled and daylight was fading before they sighted another.
This time she didn't offer Dru a choice. 'I'm going in,' she announced, the first words she'd spoken since he'd rejected her suggestion.
They were all rain-chafed by then, weary, and ready to call it a night. Tiep had been astride Ebony since mid-afternoon. He'd slumped over one hip, like a crimped sack of grain. His eyes were closed, his color was lousy, and every so often he'd let out a shiver or a moan. There were herbal powders in the medicine chest that could snuff out a death's-door fever in a single night, but only if they were steeped first and their recipient could rest after taking them.
'I'm coming with you,' Dru said, looking about for a place to tie the horses he led.
Rozt'a handed him the reins she'd held instead and stalked into the cave alone. Short of breaking into a wizard's private sanctum, few things were as dangerous as entering an unexplored cave. She needed backup; she needed light-and she'd have Dru's head if he suggested either. Tiep was too far gone to notice, but Sheemzher did. The goblin gripped his spear so tightly its remaining decorations rattled against the shaft.
After the longest quarter hour of his life, Rozt'a returned.
'It'll do. There's a hearth already dug and dry wood stacked high.'
'You're sure it's safe?' Druhallen regretted his words immediately, but they were out and there was no unsaying them.
'I know my job, Dru.'
'I didn't mean-'
'Its got a hearth, not a dragon's lair, for gods' sakes. A cold hearth where a momma mouse or rat has raised a couple of families. I'd rather defend one point of entry than a thousand-What about you?'
'If you're satisfied, I'm satisfied,' Dru snarled back. At that moment, he didn't care if the damned cave were a dragon's lair.
Sheemzher clambered down from Hopper's back. The cave met the goblin's criteria for a place where flames could burn and he had a fire going in the hearth before they had Tiep moved inside. There was a drafty shadow at the rear of the cave. It was big enough for a wolf-or a determined goblin-but not a dragon or a man. After they'd unharnessed the horses and stowed their gear for the night, Dru used the jangling bridles to improvise a non- magical warding across the shadow. When he stepped back to contemplate his cleverness, he realized Rozt'a had watched his every move.
She hadn't noticed the second entry. Or she had, but thought he wouldn't. Dru couldn't guess which. He couldn't guess what she was thinking at all before she turned her back on him.
They had food for themselves, fuel for the fire, full water-skins, and enough grain to give the horses a single measure. Lady Wyndyfarh had provisioned them for a ten-day journey. Cardinal was gone; that gave them an extra day or so, but they couldn't afford extravagance. There was enough light left to return to the bog forest and gather up green forage for the animals.
Dru grabbed a pair of loose-knotted nets from the heap of gear and headed out of the cave. He hadn't taken twenty strides down the trail when he heard footsteps behind him. It was Rozt'a with the other nets thrown over her shoulder. They didn't exchange a single word; they didn't need to. The road might change, but not the work. They each knew what needed to be done and did it without getting in the other's way.
Sheemzher had slung a pot over the fire and boiled up some water. He presented them with steaming mugs when they returned. Clover tea, by the smell, and no guessing where he'd gotten it. Maybe it had been in the gear from the start. Maybe, Dru thought, he should exercise his suspicion and pour it out on the ground. Maybe he'd had enough of suspicion for one day.
'Thank you,' he said and seared his tongue thoroughly on the first sip.
He'd swear he caught Rozt'a smirking at him, but by the time his eyes stopped watering, she was as sullen as before and busy with Tiep. The youth needed more than clover tea. Rozt'a fussed over him until Dru and Sheemzher, working awkwardly together, had crafted a barley-stew in the pot. She left the youth wrapped in blankets to join them.
'He's not making sense when he talks.'
'So, let him sleep it off,' Dru advised.
Rozt'a gave him yet another dark look. 'There's nothing to sleep off. He's not drunk, he's been hit on the head. We've got to rouse him every little while, else he'll slip away. Promise me you'll waken him during your watch.'
