find signs of her and Quarhaun? Thair said they went north from Winterhaven, too.”
“They could have gone anywhere. ‘North’ covers a big area and I doubt that Shara would have left anything behind to mark their passage. We could pass by one of their campsites and never see it.”
“First Shara and Quarhaun leave us, then Splendid and Immeral.” Tempest gave a wry smile. “At this rate, there won’t be enough of us together to face Vestapalk.”
The observation put a new twist into Albanon’s already knotted stomach, but the grim humor of it made his lips twitch. Before he could answer, however, there was a whinny and a scuffle of hooves from ahead as Roghar reined his horse in sharply. He turned the beast around and came back to them. “There’s smoke rising beyond the next ridge.”
“Forest fire?” asked Albanon.
“Not dense enough,” said Roghar. “It looks more like the smoke from a lot of individual fires.”
They all exchanged glances. “A camp,” Belen said.
Roghar nodded. “A big one. Albanon, which way do we go?”
He raised his arm without hesitation and knew by Roghar’s sour curse that he was pointing right at the heart of the rising smoke. “Maybe the camp is our destination,” said Uldane brightly.
Albanon barely had to think about it-the answer rose in his mind. “It isn’t,” he said. “We have farther to go.”
“Dismount,” said Roghar. He swung down out of the saddle. “We’ll leave the horses and go up the ridge on foot. We may be able to go around it, but I want to have a look at what we’re dealing with.”
Among the trees, Uldane took the lead, pointing the way for the others to follow so they made as little noise as possible. The climb wasn’t difficult but their caution made it slow. Albanon got a good look at the smoke Roghar had described before they began their ascent and well before they reached the top of the ridge, a shift in the wind brought the scent of the camp that lay beyond. Wood smoke, cooking food, leather-the smells of any normal established hunting camp. What reassured the wizard even more, however, was the sound of children’s laughter drifting on the breeze.
He wasn’t the only one who drew hope from the laughter. Uldane looked pleased, while Tempest relaxed visibly. Belen, however, tensed, and Roghar’s face tightened. “What’s wrong?” Albanon asked him.
“People fight to defend their children like nothing else,” he said. “Be careful.”
They stayed low to the ground as they emerged from the trees and crept across the exposed top of the ridge. Flat on their bellies, they stared down at a camp that filled most of the hollow below. There were perhaps fifteen large tents of hides lashed over bent poles and enough people moving around-including children at play-that Albanon estimated the camp could easily have a population of one hundred and fifty inhabitants.
Many of those in the camp were human, but not all. Some of the figures moving among the tents had an easy grace and a casual swiftness that reminded him of hunting cats. Indeed, when he looked more closely, he saw their features had a catlike cast with flat noses, large eyes, and sharp teeth. Shifters. And a camp of mixed humans and shifters meant…
“Tigerclaw barbarians,” he murmured aloud. He turned his head to look at the others. “What are they doing this far away from the Winterbole Forest?”
“Thair said Tigerclaws were scavenging around Winterhaven,” said Uldane. “Maybe these are the same ones.”
“The question is,” Roghar said, “do we go into the camp and hope they’re feeling friendly or try to slip around them without being noticed?”
Belen answered before any of the rest of them could. “We go into their camp,” she said decisively. “You never sneak around the Tigerclaws. It suggests that you have some reason for being stealthy. We want them to know we’re here.”
Albanon felt Tempest, on the ground beside him and at the outside of their watching pack, stiffen. “Too late,” she rasped. Albanon twisted to look at her-and found a spear point gleaming just a handsbreadth from his nose.
On the other end of the spear, a Tigerclaw shifter bared her teeth at him.
CHAPTER NINE
Another barbarian had his spear pressed to the back of Tempest’s neck, keeping her facedown on the ground. Albanon’s back was to the others, but he could see the shadows of at least four more figures on the ground. The Tigerclaws had positioned themselves so that not even their shadows would give them away until they were ready. He swallowed.
“We mean no-” he began, but the spear point twitched a little closer.
“No speech, no spells,” growled the shifter warrior. “Hold your tongue in your mouth, eladrin, or I’ll cut it out and you can hold it in your hands.” Her amber eyes, pupils slit like a cat’s, flicked over the prisoners. “Why are you spying on the Thornpad clan?”
Once again, Belen spoke up. “We travel with caution in unknown territory,” she said with more formality than Albanon had heard from her before. “We saw signs of the camp ahead and didn’t want to ride blind. We have no intention to spy or to interfere with your clan. If you let us cross your range, we’ll ride on without disturbing the Tigerclaws further.”
A snarl rose from somewhere behind Albanon. “They would say that, Cariss. We heard them plotting to avoid us.”
“We heard them discussing their situation, Hurn. It didn’t sound to me like they were going to hide from us.” The warrior’s gaze shifted again. “You, human woman. How do you know so much about dealing with Tigerclaws?”
“I was part of the Fallcrest Guard,” said Belen. “On the rare occasions when representatives of Tigerclaw Chief Scargash visited Fallcrest, I was their escort.”
“You kept watch on them to ensure they behaved in civilized lands,” said the hard voice of Hurn.
“No,” Belen answered and although Albanon didn’t dare turn to look at her, he could hear strain in her voice. “I kept watch on the civilized people of Fallcrest to be sure they didn’t offend the Tigerclaws.”
A couple of the unseen Tigerclaws chuckled at that. Cariss gave the ghost of a smile. The point of her spear retreated slightly, allowing Albanon to look around at last, and she gestured for the warrior keeping Tempest down to let her up. Albanon met Tempest’s gaze as she turned and recognized the considerable control it was taking to keep her temper in check. Cariss appeared to have dismissed both of them already. Her attention was on Belen, who seemed to have taken on the mantle of leader of their party. “Do any of you carry the taint of the Abyssal Plague?”
Belen blinked. “No.”
“How do we know that’s the truth?” demanded Hurn. He was a shifter like Cariss, but taller and wider with a nasty scar that twisted his mouth into a permanent scowl.
Belen nodded to Roghar. “He’s a paladin of Bahamut. He’ll swear it.”
All of the Tigerclaws looked to Roghar. The dragonborn lifted his head. “We have fought plague demons from Fallcrest to Winterhaven. We are enemies of the one that spreads the Abyssal Plague. In Bahamut’s name, we will destroy him.”
Albanon winced at that grandiose declaration, but it seemed to satisfy Cariss. She looked back to Belen. “And why do you need to cross our territory to do it?”
“We need… We’re going…” Belen looked at a loss for words. Albanon came to her rescue.
“We’re looking for aid and think it lies not far beyond your camp,” he said, praying that Cariss wouldn’t ask for any further details.
His prayers were not answered. “Where?” asked the shifter.
Albanon tried to put on an air of confidence as he dredged his mind for a response. Something innocent. Something generic. A picturesque image popped into his imagination, vaguely familiar like a half-remembered drawing. “In a valley,” he said, “below a mountain’s stone face.” He pointed in the direction of his urge. “That way.”
