I knelt beside her. “You’re making perfect sense to me,” I said, and kissed her. “It wasn’t the good side. That was better than good.”
Kai’s smile was a white crescent in the gloom. “Agreed.”
Flint appeared from wherever she’d gone—though I suspect she might have been watching—and we followed her back to our camp.
We only needed the one bedroll that night.
6
When we looked into the bay the next morning, the ship was gone. Presumably they’d fixed it and then, either in spite of or because of the loss of their three men, made sail as soon as they could. We resumed our way east, seeing nothing through the day but distant herds of blackhorn roaming inland, along with birds, a couple of racoons, and a rabbit. The rabbit made a decent meal, and so did a partridge that evening. The hunting wasn’t even hard, and not just because rabbits aren’t tough to snare and partridges are as dumb as rocks. Kai seemed to have a way about her. She could get surprisingly close to the animals, like they didn’t see her as a threat. She’d proven this by telling me and Flint to hang back, downwind, then walked—literally walked—up to the rabbit until she could pet it. It seemed content, right up to the moment she wrung its neck, killing it instantly. Afterward, she remarked, “Important to kill them like that. No suffering. They deserve it, really, since they’re giving up their lives for us.”
I thought back to the inept butchery of the raiders when they’d gone hunting, and nodded. Pretty amazing girl, Kai was.
We pushed on again. The previous night didn’t come up, at least not directly. A few times, I caught Kai looking at me sidelong, sometimes smiling a touch. We kept our conversation minimal and functional, though, staying focused on the world around us, not the one between us; the former is what might get us killed, not the latter.
The day scrolled on until, just before sundown, we waded across a broad stream. From the crest of the ridge looming over the far side of the stream-valley, we finally saw what we were looking for—a wide bay on Le’kemeshaw, with three ships anchored in it and a cluster of tents on the broad, gravelly beach. After a brief strategy discussion, we backed away, making camp in the stream-valley and waiting for first light to make our move. We hoped most of the ships’ crews would come ashore, making it easier to get aboard the one apparently carrying Kai’s family heirlooms. It wasn’t an unreasonable hope. Those ships weren’t very roomy; the raiders who’d been on them for days now must be sick of their cramped quarters.
Kai and I slept that night, in two separate bedrolls, letting that world between us wait. We wanted to be well-rested for what could prove to be a tough and dangerous day ahead.
Fortunately, the weather was on our side. A heavy overcast rolled in just before dawn, and it started to rain. Bad weather not only reduced visibility, but the patter of rain helped cover up noise and the general misery made sentries sloppy. We crept forward, again keeping Flint behind us, looking for a place to see what was what.
There were ten tents, most looking pretty ragged. A few with wood stoves were probably used to house raiders and others. The rest, I assumed, were for storage. I couldn’t see what they’d stockpiled, but from the few guards, I figured it probably wasn’t weapons, ammo, or any sort of Hightec. That probably meant food, clothing, and similar sundry stuff. I saw more crates and bales piled on the beach under tarps, so they’d been unloading the ships, a fact that wasn’t lost on Kai.
“Wonder if my stuff is somewhere in there,” she whispered, scanning the tents. I could only shrug.
I froze at the sound of a shout nearby, then I tensed, ready to fight or run.
But the shout had nothing to do with us. A big man came around a tent to our left, near the water, looking pissed about something. He sported shoulder armor like the wings of a crow gone bad, puffed out and decorative to the point of comedy. The armor might actually be effective, but unwarranted decoration has a way of failing you in a fight.
“Blackwing,” Kai muttered. I remember she’d mentioned them the other night. Elite, she’d called them. Personal guards to Venari.
Well, if Venari’s personal guards were here, this was more than just a raid to grab some plunder and slaves. I opened my mouth to say just that, and to tell Flint to stay here so Kai and I could get closer and cover us if we had to bolt. But a second figure rounded the tent, following the Blackwing. He was dressed in a more non-descript way but carried himself with a clipped certainty, his movements smooth and efficient. Not just a bandit or raider; this was somebody far more competent—and no doubt dangerous. He said something to the Blackwing, who stopped, turned, and snapped something back at him.
“That’s a Huntsman,” Kai said. “You can tell by the fur sash. It’ll be nightwolf pelt. One he took himself.”
I almost whistled. Nightwolf. Those were rare and deadly—in the extreme. I’d only ever seen a couple of the elusive creatures, but I just let them go. Their furs would have been . . . well, more than valuable, but something about the sleek, solitary hunters appealed to me as kindred spirits.
It was the fact the Blackwing and the Huntsman were arguing that interested me more. It could be nothing, a dispute over a woman maybe, or drink or food, but I didn’t think so. I tried listening, letting my tech enhance the sound, but now the patter of the rain worked against us. I caught the odd word and phrase—Venari and west stood out, and so did the Blackwing snapping, “know your place,” but it wasn’t enough to assemble a complete sense of what they were on about.
The two yelled and pointed a few minutes longer, then the Blackwing spat something that looked like an outright order, spun, and stalked away. The Huntsman glared at his retreating back then hurried off a different direction.
Tension between Huntsmen and Blackwings. Good to know.
I glanced at Kai, motioning her forward, but she raised a hand then pointed at Flint, who was crouched among some dusty bushes a dozen or so paces away. She seemed absorbed in something else entirely. I gave Kai a look, and we crept over to join her. Turned out the bickering between the Blackwing and Huntsman hadn’t interested her as much as figures gathering on the inland side of the camp. It was a big group; I counted forty-nine. The Huntsman, who had disappeared among the tents, reappeared and starting shouting orders. The rest heaved heavy packs onto their backs and slung weapons, obviously getting ready to move. At least a dozen of them were dressed and carried themselves similar to the Huntsman who seemed to be leading them. They were arranged into a march column and they trudged off, heading generally north and east. As they moved, I studied them. The dozen or so Huntsmen fanned out ahead and to the flanks, apparently acting as scouts; their movements were quick, efficient, and sure. The main body shuffled along with less enthusiasm, feet dragging in a listless rhythm that bespoke a weakness I might be able to exploit. Probably mercenaries, like the ones we’d ambushed two days before. A large force, with a core of professionals operating out of a substantial camp. I was leaning toward this being an invading army, rather than any raid in force. There was purpose here, and it showed.
The man we’d interrogated alluded to a search for Hightec, but there just wasn’t that much of it between here and Watermanse, or even beyond it for a long way. All that remained of the old world was just broken relics, like concrete. We needed more information. And with the departure of most of whatever force was based here, we had a chance to get it.
I ruffled Flint’s ear. “Good catch, girl.” To Kai, I said, “Let’s move in. We don’t know how long that gang’s gonna be gone.”
Kai nodded, unslung her crossbow, and readied a bolt. We carried on downslope toward the camp, following a shallow ravine eroded into the ridge. It gave us cover almost all the way to the nearest tent. We saw only two guards left watching the place; Kai nailed one with a single bolt in the eye, while I took out the other with a chokehold from behind to keep him quiet, followed by a neck-snap.
The camp contained lots of stuff—scattered bedrolls, grubby blankets, trash strewn about.
One tent was more orderly, with the feel of soldiers about it. That would be the Huntsmen, I guessed, with the mercenaries the undisciplined slobs. The rest of the tents, as I’d expected, contained bulk supplies—food, extra clothing, even some cold-weather gear like furs and snowshoes. That just made me furrow my brow harder. They were ready for a long operation here, one that might last well past glory season and into the winter. What we didn’t find, though, were answers.
I looked at the ships anchored in the bay, their angular shapes softened by rain and mist. “Gonna have to go out there,” I said.
Kai nodded and started unlacing a boot.
I shook my head. “No, you and Flint are staying here.”
“You don’t know how many men are out there, Cus. Going alone is stupid.”
“I’ve done lots of stupid things and lived to regret them,” I said, smiling. But Kai didn’t smile back, so I shook my head. “Flint could swim out there, but she’d never be able to get aboard. I’d have to heave her up onto the deck somehow. So she’s got to stay here. And you’re a terror with that crossbow, but if anything happens over there, it’s going to be in close, and you don’t strike me as an in close kinda gal . . . never mind the other night.” I offered another brief smile. “Honestly, Kai, you’d be someone I’d just have to look out for, and I’m better without the distraction. I need you here, with Flint. You can keep searching these tents while I’m gone, and keep an eye out for any of that fucking gang coming back.”
Kai gave me a hard scowl, but finally nodded. “You just be careful, okay?”
“Always am.”
We arranged our contingency plans, rendezvous time and place, and the various other bits and pieces of keeping ourselves together and alive. Then I stripped down to just shorts and a knife on a belt, gave Kai a quick kiss, Flint a quick rub behind the ears, and headed for the water.
Damn, Le’kemeshaw was cold. I swam through liquid ice. The bottom must’ve dropped away fast, leaving the bay deep, and frigid because of it. I pushed myself along, my tech alerting me to the drop in my body temperature and warning me I didn’t have long until hypothermia started to drag at me. Fortunately, I would be out of the water well before that became an issue.
I reached the ship, the biggest of the three, the two-masted ketch. I heard the clomp of feet on the deck and voices, but no one seemed to be keeping a particular look out. So I eased myself around to the anchor rope, gripped it, and pulled myself up to where I could see onto the deck.
There were four men. Two stood watch over a hatch I assumed opened into the hold; two more stood near the stern, talking. All wore oilskins and had a hunkered-down attitude, clearly more interested in staying dry and warm against the rain than watching out around them. They just couldn’t imagine a threat two hundred paces from shore. Not from the land, anyway. Le’kemeshaw’s depths were said to be home to some monsters, like a megatooth, a sturgeon far bigger than any of these ships . . . but probably not so close to shore.
They were about to find out just what sort of threats could come from shore, though. I slipped the knife from its sheath then climbed over the railing. The air was a lot warmer than the water, but evaporation made me shiver a bit. I ignored it, concentrating on my quarry. My bare feet made no noise, so I was able to get damned close to the two near the hatch. I was practically in knife range when one of them happened to turn and see me maybe five paces away.
I lunged, the knife finding his throat. Blood spurted and he fell back, clutching at his neck, surprised at the fact he was going to die. The other started to react, but I caught him on the backstroke, slashing his neck open, then kicking him back to the deck.
I turned to the other two near the stern. They just gaped back, apparently stunned by a knife-wielding, almost-naked man killing their friends with gratuitous spills of blood. While they stared, I moved, crossing the ten paces between us in a few heartbeats. At the same time, my tech kicked in, slowing things down. The two raiders seemed to move through molasses, giving me all the time in the world to close. They weren’t really slowed down, of course; I was sped up. I slammed my knife into the neck of the one on the left; he managed to start dodging, so it wasn’t as clean as the first two, a ragged cut that opened his jugular. It still dropped him, but the knife caught for an instant and he pulled me slightly off balance as he fell.
That gave his friend a chance to draw a much bigger blade, something like a short machete, and chop at me with it. I twisted, dodging, but still felt a shock, then icy numbness, as the blade bit into my forearm just below my elbow. It was a shallow wound, and my tech immediately shut down the pain and cleared the rush of adrenaline, keeping me focused. I yanked the blade back, at the same time punching out, smashing the heel of my hand into the man’s face. He slashed again, blindly this time, and caught my shoulder with another shallow gash. But I finally managed to get my knife back into play and jammed it into his throat, and then his eye, dropping him instantly.
I spun around, ready for more opponents. There were none, just the four bodies.
I checked out my wounds. Neither were serious, just annoying, and my tech was already clotting them up, stopping the bleeding.
A muffled shout came from the hold. The hatch was tied shut, so I loosed the knots and released it, pulling the hatch open. Faces blinked up at me, hands shielding them from the grey daylight.
“Who are you?” one of them asked.
“Watermanse sent me,” I replied. “Let’s get you guys out of there and on your way home.”
It turned out the crews of all three ships had been jammed into the ketch’s hold. After the outpouring of gratitude at being rescued from miserable lives as Osterway slaves, they dispersed back to their ships, eager to weigh anchor and start back home, which meant I didn’t have to swim back to shore.
When I got back, Kai and Flint were waiting for me.
“We didn’t find much more,” she said, shifting a pack that looked a lot heavier than it had been. She shrugged at that. “Okay, didn’t find much more by way of answers. Helped myself to some boots and clothes, though . . . wait. Are you wounded?”
She fussed over me as I got dressed, but I was able to assure her I was fine. We waved off the Watermanse fisherman, who thanked me again then started back to their ship. I’d considered sailing with them, taking the easy way back, but I wanted to travel overland again. Partly because I figured we could see if Osterway was up to anything else between here and Watermanse, and partly because the idea of a few days with Kai frankly appealed to me. As they rowed away, I turned to Kai and opened the pack I’d commandeered from the ketch.
Her father’s books were in it. And his coins.
And her mother’s bracelet.
She gave me a grateful look then burst into tears. I was touched, but we were standing in the middle of a hostile camp. We hurried back up the ridge, wanting to put distance between us and this place. There’d be no doubt this time that someone had killed Osterway’s people, taken their stuff, and freed their slaves, and they’d be looking for blood.
As we traveled, I thought about the other thing I’d found on the ketch, on one of the men I’d killed. It was a written missive from Venari herself, or someone close to her. It mentioned how these minions of hers were to focus on Hightec, which wasn’t news. What was news, though, was a mention of a place known to the Huntsmen where someone was hoarding Hightec—and maybe even making it.
If that was true, that would change everything.
For now, I kept all that to myself. I needed some time to think this through. I was still chewing on it when we reached the place I’d killed and skinned the ghost, only a couple of days out of Watermanse. The meat and hide still hung in the tree where I’d left them. The meat was okay, but the hide left a lot to be desired as it broke down into a hideous combination of sights and smells that belonged on a battlefield.
“Okay,” Kai said, covering her nose, “that really stinks.”
I nodded. Even Flint hung back—and she w
ashed her own butt. “Almost as bad as your feet did.” I smirked.
She punched me, then said, “It’s beautiful, though. How about I take it and tan it? I’d love to turn it into a cloak.”
“Sure, if I get to wrap myself up in it with you.”
She shot me back a challenging look . . . but didn’t say no.
7
An air of celebration hung over Watermanse when we finally made it back. Looking into the harbor, I could see why: all of three of the missing fishing boats were now anchored there. It made sense they’d made it back well before us. Kai, Flint, and I hadn’t exactly dallied along the way, either. As much as I liked spending time with Kai, I remained keenly aware of the fact Watermanse needed to know what was happening with Osterway. And I’d brooded about that very thing on the way back.
Someone was making Hightec. Making it. Again, yeah, that would change everything. Osterway would do whatever it took to get their hands on an operation like that. Anyone would. And they wouldn’t let anyone or anything else stand in their way.
But Watermanse was potentially just that—in their way.
We pushed our way into the hum and bustle of the town. There was a definite air of celebration. They’d gotten their ships and crews back. Husbands were reunited with wives they’d worried they’d never see again, brothers with sisters, parents with children, lovers with one another. At first, we were just incidental to it, another pair of travelers—with an enormous dog—amid the crowds. But just before we reached The Drowning Man, where I expected to find Aldebar and Reyna—or at least start looking for them—word started swirling that we were the ones who’d saved Watermanse’s people. We were thronged, almost mobbed, by townsfolk grinning and laughing and shouting at us. I tried to smile and nod back and keep moving, but Kai was starting to look boxed in and frantic. I looked at Flint and she lifted her head, uttering an explosive string of growling barks. They cut through the commotion like a hot blade through grease and the people mostly recoiled back. The way clear, we pushed on to The Drowned Man.
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