Fabia knew more than he did, then, but she was not going to admit that she had been shown a vision of her infant self being given to the wet nurse and her mother being abused by the bloodlord.
“I remember the parting,” Benard said. “I remember screaming my head off, but almost nothing after that until I was living in Kosord.”
Dantio described the harrowing journey over the Edge, and how the brothers had been forcibly separated. The Witness would have been a very handsome man, Fabia decided. Cropped ears and ragged haircut ruined his overall looks, of course, and she could see white whip scars on his back. But his face was lean and intense, shrewd-looking and refined by suffering.
Every now and again his attention would wander for a few moments. “Just riverfolk,” he explained the second time it happened. “They like to overnight in these islands.”
The biggest Werist growled, “You’ll tell us if any Heroes arrive?”
“None so far, but I saw two boats of them going by a while ago, heading upstream. Their palls were purple and red, with either green or red flank stripes.”
“Purple means Horold!” Ingeld said.
“’Fraid so. And red means Wrogg Hunt, which has all his best men. I doubt they’re on their way to Florengia.”
“Then he’s close behind them!”
“Not necessarily so, my lady,” old Guthlag said. “He never goes any nearer Saltaja than he must. He’s sent his best man after you, Huntleader Loki Nargson. The satrap himself will have stayed home in Kosord to go duck hunting.”
Ingeld looked unconvinced. Ducks would be safe from Horold until he had hunted down his wife.
A couple of the Werists sprang to their feet. “Must tell Orlad!”
Dantio squeaked “No!” in his treble, but so vehemently that they obeyed him. “They’re gone upstream. They’re no threat to us. Orlad’s resting right now. We can call him if he’s needed. His whole world has turned upside down, my lords. You went hunting at King’s Grass. He was the prey! He needs some time to, um, make plans.”
The two sat down again. “Can’t hear anyone getting murdered, anyway,” muttered the one they called Namberson. Fabia noticed fleeting grins and wondered what was funny.
“There was no huntleader in the boats I saw,” Dantio said, “nor even a packleader, so that likely means there are more of them on the way. They may be days away, though. Some boats are faster than others; convoys get separated. And there are lots of islands here.”
Fabia knew that most riverfolk would have made camp by now, so the chances of Horold arriving were fading. The sky was a blaze of red as the sun sank behind the wall of the world. Whatever its faults, Tryfors did have spectacular sunsets.
“Do you really know everything?” she asked.
“Within my range. The Wisdom knows everything, but it’s back in the Ivory Cloisters.”
“Tell us why Saltaja was so certain you were dead.”
Dantio looked away. “It hurts to talk about it.”
The riverfolk were laying out the evening meal on the ground near the fire. The four Werists had begun showing interest. They would certainly insist on being served first.
Then Dantio said “O-oh! We have company!” and instantly had everyone’s attention. “Three boats… more… They’re going to make camp.”
“Orlad!” The Werists all jumped up.
“Orlad’s on his way back here,” Dantio said. “There’s no danger at the moment. They’re three bowshots downstream. I can’t make out much detail.”
“How many of them?” Snerfrik asked.
“A full hunt, maybe. Packleaders…” Dantio looked at Ingeld.
She sighed. “And Horold.”
He nodded.
“How many in a full hunt?” Fabia asked, certain she would not like the answer.
Many voices told her, “Four sixty.”
The odds were impossible. The sailors had noticed the alarm and were watching. Two more Werists emerged from the shrubbery-one fair, one dark. They, too, saw that there was something amiss. They came at a run. Everyone started telling Orlad about the danger.
“We should leave?” he asked his brother.
Surprisingly, Dantio laughed. “Leave? Leave? What sort of wimpy talk is that? I thought you brave fellows enjoyed a good fight?”
Fabia winced, half-expecting to see her eldest brother massacred by the youngest, and some of the Werists growled angrily at the slave’s mockery. Orlad did not, although he did not join in Dantio’s laughter. “So it’s true. You’ve been holding out on us! You sent word to Arbanerik already?”
“Oh, well done, Little Brother! Did you work that out or did Hero Waels?” Dantio’s grin flickered back and forth between the two Werists. “Mmm, thought so. Good man to have around, yes?”
Orlad scowled menacingly. “Get on with the story!”
Fabia wondered what was being hinted here. Seers could not read thoughts, only emotions, but if Orlad and Waels had been plotting something together, Dantio probably knew what.
“Yes, lord. High Timber is a couple of menzils up the Milky. When we camped in these islands three nights ago, Saltaja sent runners to Tryfors, but I swam across to Milk and spoke with New Dawn’s agent there. So, yes, a tablet was baked that night to be sent upriver in the morning.”
“Telling Arbanerik he could catch Saltaja if he attacked Tryfors?”
“Well done!” Dantio repeated. “He would have known she was coming, of course, because some of the men she lost on her journey passed through Milk a few days earlier. He should be ready by now. You’ve got the same idea I have. I don’t know his plans, but my hope is that he moved his army into position yesterday. The battle may have started already.”
“Not likely,” Orlad said.
“Why not?” For once the Witness was surprised.
It was Orlad’s turn to smirk. “Because nothing’s happening here yet. Even a Werist host cannot just leap into battle on a moment’s notice. It needs time to gather rations, make plans, issue orders. And think tactics! Arbanerik will certainly send a force down the Milky, to seize these islands and block off any escape by either Saltaja or Therek. There can’t be many places where Werists can close off the Wrogg. Also, if he has enough men, he’ll try to seize Nardalborg at the same time, and close that way out. So right now he’s either still on the move or he’s resting his men before hitting Tryfors, and perhaps Nardalborg, tonight.” He turned his hard, dark stare on Waels. “But how many will he send here, you suppose? A full hunt? More?”
Waels murmured, “Depends how many men he thinks he can spare, lord.”
“Can you see them, Witness?”
Dantio said, “No. But some of Horold’s men went upriver earlier. If they discover trouble in Tryfors, they’ll turn tail and come back to warn him. We certainly don’t want him to escape back to Kosord, and we don’t want him hitting Arbanerik from the rear.”
Tactics and strategy were flying almost too fast for Fabia to follow, and some of the Werists seemed to be laboring also. She dared not look at Ingeld, whose son and husband were going to be on the wrong side of the coming battle. The riverfolk had noticed the discussion and were drifting closer, hoping to eavesdrop.
Dantio sewed it up. “It would be very tidy if the forces of virtue and vengeance could hit Satrap Horold here before he strikes camp in the morning. Please arrange that, Flankleader.”
Orlad scowled. “If this New Dawn horde is on its way here, why don’t we sail up the Milky to meet them?”
“The riverfolk won’t try it in the dark. But you Heroes can see in the dark, can’t you? And run in the dark? Not you, brother. We need you here, and your skin would take too much explaining.”
Fabia expected Orlad to argue, but he just glanced over his men, who were all leering excitedly now.
“Namberson, Snerfrik, go and relieve Narg and Jungr at the boat. We’ll bring you some chow shortly. Hrothgat, Prok, you’re the best night runners. Witness, where do they go and what message do they deliver?”
