Warrl went on ahead, reporting tiny patches of scent at uneven intervals, confirming that the first patch wasn’t a fluke.
“What is he picking up?” Kethry asked, wonderingly. “What could he possibly be picking up?”
“I don’t know,” Tarma began, “Maybe one of them managed to rub a hand on a wheel, but you’d think he’d have picked that up before this—”
“I think I know!” Jadrie suddenly said, and urged her horse ahead of theirs. She dangled down from the saddle in a trick Tarma had taught her and snatched something tiny off the top of a rut without pausing, then turned her horse and came back to them. “Look!” she said in triumph, holding up a tiny thread of white. It didn’t look like anything.
“What in—” Tarma went cross-eyed trying to look at it.
Jadrie grinned. “It’s the white silk embroidery thread I gave Meri for Midwinter. Remember, you’ve trained Kira, and she knows she has to leave us something to follow. I bet they’re cutting it up and dropping it out of the wagon.”
“I bet you’re right.” She turned her attention to the kyree and thought at him. Warrl, if you lose the trail, check to either side of the road. You’re following bits of silk, and they might blow off the road itself.
:Clever girls!: was his comment, and with that sure guide, they were able to increase their pace to the ground-eating lope that best suited the kyree, even when the road branched, and branched again.
By midmorning, they came upon the kidnappers’ camp, with the scent of the girls all around it. The ashes of the fire were cold, but Tarma knew the kidnappers couldn’t have increased their lead by much, if anything. Warrl reported that the girls had been sick, which didn’t surprise Tarma at all, and didn’t worry her too much. That was a natural reaction to what had happened to them, and it was encouraging to know that Warrl reported no signs that the children had been mistreated in any way—no blood, no torn-out hair, the scent of fear but only what he would have expected. He would be able to scent a drop of blood too small to see; even bruised flesh would leave a “different” odor to his keen senses. And as for other kinds of abuse—well, those would have left clear scents as well, and Warrl found nothing of the sort.
They didn’t spend too much time at the campsite; there wasn’t much it could tell them that they didn’t already know. The snow was too trampled to tell how many men they were facing, though Warrl’s guess was around twenty. There was one place where a small tent had clearly been set up, and that meant these kidnappers had a leader, someone who considered himself too superior to the others to sleep beside the fire with the rest of them. There was no scent of the girls at that spot, and it wasn’t likely they’d be allowed out of their prison, especially at night, so the tent had to belong to the leader.
They set off in much less than a candlemark, and when the road forked again, Warrl ranged up both forks until he found another bit of silk, giving them the right direction. But it wasn’t until they came across a horse-dropping that was still faintly warm that Tarma knew for certain that they would be able to catch up to the kidnappers.
Twenty men against the two of us? Well, I’m sure Leslac would assume it was no contest, but I’m not that sanguine. Still, if they’d camped last night, they would probably do the same tonight; they could stay out of spotting range with Warrl to scout, and creep up on the camp tonight.
“We’re catching up—which means we’d better think of something. Keth, I don’t suppose you could cast some sort of magic that would put them all to sleep, could you?” she asked, a little doubtfully. After all, she’d never seen Kethry do anything of the kind—but it was worth asking about.
Beside her, the sorceress tucked her hair under her hood as she replied, moving easily with her horse. “That only happens in childrens’ tales and bad melodrama,” Kethry said, then shrugged an apology.
“Sorry, but that’s how it is. Even if I could, it would be a sure bet that men as organized as these are would have a countering magic in effect. I see your point, it would be convenient if we could put the whole encampment to sleep and just pluck the girls out of it.” She chewed her lower lip. “Let me think about it, and I’ll tell you what I can do, other than call lightning down on them, or something equally spectacular and dangerous.”
“Spectacular would be a bad idea,” Tarma agreed, and Jadrie nodded, so she added for Jadrie’s benefit, “Because—?”
“We don’t know who these people are or where they’re going; we don’t know who is watching for them or coming to meet them. Doing something spectacular could bring down more trouble than we can deal with.” Jadrie had that lesson by heart, at least.
“The ideal thing would be to draw them out of the camp, one at time, and pick them off that way,” Kethry mused. “But we’d have to do it quickly enough that they wouldn’t notice until we’d whittled their numbers down to a manageable size.”
“We’d need something to draw them out,” Tarma pointed out. “As fast as they’re trying to go, I doubt that they’re going to stop to hunt, no matter how tempting the game looks. I just can’t think of anything likely to bring them out one at a time.”
“Maybe something will occur to us.” Kethry dismissed all speculations, and glanced up at the overcast sky. “Maybe I can do something with the weather. Or maybe I could cast a glamour to make them think they are under attack by a large force,”
:Mindmate—: Warrl’s “voice” was attenuated by distance. :I believe you had better stop now and come in carefully. They’ve been forced to camp.: There was savage good humor in his thoughts. :Evidently whatever made the children ill is ... contagious. Or it has been made to seem so. I’ll come back and meet you halfway.:
When the effect of the seeds struck, it was fortunately quite gradual, so it didn’t look like the mass poisoning it really was.
Just about noontime, the men who had eaten the most began to sicken. Although the girls couldn’t make out exactly what was happening, Kira heard voices strained and distressed, then sounds she thought meant that riders were dropping back for a moment, then returning—and each time that happened, the wagon slowed a little more. The leader was annoyed at first, then angry, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it—the men weren’t in control of their stomachs anymore, their stomachs were in control of them.
Kira and Meri exchanged grins in the semidarkness of the wagon; after all, only one of the men out there had offered to help even a little when they were sick, and it seemed fitting revenge that no one wanted to help the kidnappers now.
“They probably don’t even have any herbs or anything to make them feel better,” Meri whispered, in ill-concealed glee.
“Probably not, or I bet they’d have drugged us to keep us quiet,” Kira agreed.
Finally the wagon stopped altogether, and Kira definitely heard a rider slide off the near-side horse and make a stumbling run for the bushes. At that point, the leader roared some angry commands and when the wagon moved again, it was only a short distance.
Someone unbarred the door, but didn’t open it. When Kira pushed on it tentatively, it moved, and she cautiously stuck her head out.
From the look of things, virtually every man in the group was suffering, but not all of them were hit as badly as the others. The healthiest three were guarding the wagon, looking pale and unhappy. The worst off could not be seen at all, but from the sounds of it, they were off in the bushes, throwing up everything, including their toenails. A couple, including their lone ally, had collapsed on hastily-spread blankets beside a small fire. They looked absolutely green, and Kira didn’t think that a single gut-wrenching purge was going to help them get over the effects of the seeds. No, they were going,to be visiting the bushes quite frequently, until every bit of the poison worked itself out of their systems.
The only man totally unaffected was the leader, probably because he had his own private stock of food, and now Kira got a good look at him. There wasn’t much that was memorable about him; of average height, weight,
and coloring, brown hair and brown eyes, and only his air of authority and the fine cut and fabric of his otherwise plain garments marked him as different. Even so, there was no way to tell that he wasn’t what he seemed, either a prosperous merchant, or some other well-off professional, such as a sheriff or an alderman. At the moment, he scowled so furiously that Kira was very glad she wasn’t under his command. He was taking the illness of his men very personally, as if they were doing it to make trouble just for him.
She looked around, making certain that she didn’t attract attention to herself by moving too much, but there wasn’t much that was memorable about this place. Just like the last spot, they had stopped in a cleared place at the side of the road, this time in a little depression between two hills. She had no idea where they were, and there was no sign of any habitation, not even a thin stream of smoke rising from some far-off farmhouse chimney. There were low, scrubby trees and thick bushes, a thin cover of ankle-deep snow, and not much else. The hills themselves were bare of significant cover, which would give anyone atop one a good view of the countryside. She wondered if any of the men would have the strength to climb up there to stand sentry, and privately doubted it.
If I just had some idea where to go, we might be able to get away tonight, she thought with rising hope. Maybe if we just stuck to the road, we’d be able to find an inn or a farm or something....
A hint of movement atop the hill to their rear caught Kira’s eye, and she withdrew a little into the wagon so the leader of their kidnappers wouldn’t see her interest. She waited to see if something appeared again. She tried to tell herself that it was only a far-off animal, perhaps a wild cow or donkey; tried not to get her hopes up too much. But she thought there had been something familiar in that half-seen shape and the way it had moved.
Would it appear again, or was it just a trick of her eyes and the hope that someone would come to save them? As she watched, holding her breath, that half-familiar silhouette did appear, just for a moment, leaping up onto the top of the hill and back down again. Her heart jumped into her throat, and when it happened a third time and she was sure of what she’d seen, she stuffed her fist into her mouth to stifle an inadvertent cry of joy that would surely have betrayed them.
No sound escaped, but Meri grabbed her shoulder, seeing her excitement. She motioned for silence, curled up into the fur and Meri cuddled up with her, then she pulled the fur over their heads to muffle her whispers. She didn’t dare take a chance that there might be someone near enough to the wagon to overhear them.
“Warrl’s out there,” she hissed. “I saw him.”
That was all Meri had to hear; she knew what it meant. Warrl meant Tarma, and Tarma meant Kethry. If anyone could get them out of this, it would be their teachers! Meri hugged her hard in a fit of repressed excitement.
“Let’s see if they’ll let us use the bushes,” Meri hissed. “That way you-know will see us and know we’re all right, and theyll know we’re in the wagon. If we get locked in tonight, they’ll know where we are.”
Now that was a good thought, and after a moment or two to make sure she wasn’t going to betray herself by looking healthy and excited, Kira went to the door of the wagon and slowly lowered herself to the ground. Actually, her stomach muscles still ached, and she was so stiff from being cramped up on the floor of the wagon that she didn’t have to feign that much.
No one said anything, and Meri followed her. Holding onto each other like a pair of feeble old women, keeping their eyes on the ground and avoiding looking at anyone or anything, they moved cautiously toward a stand of the thick evergreens they’d used this morning. They stayed there just long enough to seem convincing, then, with their heads still down, plodded wearily back to the wagon.
We’re such meek, obedient little things—andsick, very sick. We’re no threat, we’ll be no trouble, we’re harmless, absolutely harmless.
Suddenly there was a pair of shiny, expensive black boots between them and the wagon.
Kira raised her eyes, slowly. In the boot were legs, clad in fine woolen trews of charcoal gray. The legs merged into a torso wrapped in a handsome fur-lined cape of matching wool. Her eyes traveled slowly up the chest to the face, a face with angry eyes and a bitter mouth, wearing a scowl that froze the blood in her veins.
The man who was responsible for their current predicament had taken an interest in them, and it wasn’t out of concern for their health.
She felt blood draining out of her face, and had the irrelevant thought that at least she wouldn’t have to try and feign being pale and ill. Her knees shook so hard that she was afraid they might to go jelly at any moment. What did he want? Why was he looking at them like that? Surely he didn’t suspect that she had poisoned the food! After all, she and Meri had been the very first to be ill, and their “symptoms” were the same as the men’s.
She felt herself starting to shake as those eyes, so full of anger, looked her over as if she was a particularly shabby bit of merchandise that he might keep or might discard.
She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to do anything that would cause him to focus on her. Nevertheless, she had a duty; she interposed herself between the man and Meri, and met his cold, cold eyes.
He spat something that could only have been a curse, though it was not in a language that Kira knew. She stood her ground, still looking up at him, but doing her best to look fragile and pathetic, rather than combative. “Fragile and pathetic,” wasn’t her strong suit, but she leaned heavily on remembering times when Meri had managed to get out of trouble by doing just that. How had she looked? What had her expression been? Meri was better at this than she was....
She opened her eyes as wide as they would go, let her lower lip pout out a little and tremble, and thought desperately sad thoughts—that they might never see home again, or the school, the horrible fight, how afraid she was. The last wasn’t very hard to do, with that awful man glaring at them as if he held them personally responsible for everything that was going wrong.
Of course they were, but that was beside the point.
I need to cry, but not blubber. A runny nose and red face is just going to disgust him. Tears, but artistic ones. She wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she was certain of it. By widening her eyes and tilting her head so that the dry breeze hit them, she managed to get them to water, which would pass very nicely for tears.
One huge, fat drop rolled down her right cheek. Two more followed, one on the left and another on the right.
He was unmoved. She sniffed delicately, and another couple of tears coursed in the paths of the others. He was never going to feel sorry for them, but maybe, maybe, she might awaken a tiny twinge of shame for picking on two little girls and making them miserable. She let the tears flow, keeping her eyes glued to his the entire time.
It seemed to work. He cursed again, and looked away—then angrily turned and stalked toward one of his men that was still standing. For a moment Kira couldn’t move, and shook all over. In his anger at being delayed, he was looking for some ready target to discharge that anger on. And she sensed that he might be rethinking his plans to match the current conditions.
He was thinking about doing something awful. To us. Oh, Goddess, that was too close....
From the way her twin sister was shivering, Meri also knew how close it had been.
Finally, when she figured she could make her legs move without collapsing, she led Meri back into the wagon and they climbed slowly in, to hide in their fur robe. Maybe if they stayed out of sight and completely quiet, he’d forget about them for now.
The view from the top of the hill was excellent, and it was even possible to hear a certain amount of sound from the camp below. Scrubby brush made fine cover to a pair of experienced (if out-of-practice) scouts. “They aren’t going anywhere,” Tarma said at last, as she watched the leader pitch his own damned tent. “Whatever’s made them sick, it’s keeping them here until tomorrow at best, and their commander is furious. And look at thos
e three—” she pointed her chin at three recumbent forms wrapped in sleeping rolls. “They haven’t moved at all since their last bout.
I think they’re going to need to sleep until noon tomorrow at the earliest.“
“Mmm,” Kethry agreed, watching the activity below. For two former scouts of their experience, this surveillance was routine; although a civilian would have said that these hilltops were barren, there was more than enough cover for them to hide in.
Everything was going exceptionally well, all things considered. The twins had seen Warrl, as Tarma had hoped they would when the door of the wagon eased open. Smart of them, to go out as if they needed to relieve themselves, but do nothing. That was as clear a sign that they knew help was out here as if they’d shouted and waved.
Now—how to separate out the kidnappers? Warrl’s estimate appeared to be correct, and twenty was far too many for two women and a kyree to take on. No matter how sick they appeared to be, most of them were not as depleted as the three comatose beside the fire. If they thought they were under attack, it would be amazing how quickly they would recover.
“If this was anywhere near a city, I’d be tempted to send you down there to shake your hips at them and lure them into the bushes one at a time, Keth,” she murmured.
Kethry snorted. “At my age? I’d need a hell of a glamour to pull that off,” she retorted. “You’d better think of something else to lure them off. Even at my youthful best, I was never so stunning that men would chase after me with all the blood gone from their brains into their—”
She stopped, and something in the silence made Tarma turn her head the little it took to see her face.
It was dead white.
What would turn her that white? There’s nothing going on down in the camp... it must be what we were talking about. How to lure the men out one at a time. And—oh—
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