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“You know,” said Avender three years later, “I like you a lot better when you’re almost anything but a dog.”
“Really?” Redburr sniffed at a dead bush and lifted his leg. “Why’s that? I think I make a pretty good dog. And it’s a lot better than being human.”
Tail wagging, the Shaper trotted on through the dry brush. To the right a steep slope led down to a dusty road; on the left the hillside rose to a ridge just above Avender’s head. Two days’ march to the south, a Banking troop waited for them to bring back news of the enemy’s activity. But the Wizard’s patrols had withdrawn, and Avender and Redburr had been forced to push ever closer to Ussene to learn what was happening. Another few leagues would bring them to the gates of the fortress itself.
Another bush caught the Shaper’s attention. Avender waited as Redburr sniffed right and left, and right and left again.
“Soldiers?” The young man peered at the low ridges of the hills around them.
Redburr shook his head, his pink tongue swinging back and forth beneath his jaw. “Jackrabbits.”
“We’re not scouting for jackrabbits.”
“If I caught one, I could ask it lots of questions.”
“We already know you can’t catch jackrabbits, or any other kind of rabbit. You’re too fat.”
Exactly like a dog, Redburr went back to what he was doing. He crisscrossed the trail, covering two and three times as much distance investigating the dusty ground as Avender did scanning the scrubby slopes on either side. These northern hills, and the higher crags looming beyond, were far different from the peaks the young man was used to. Where the Bavadars were white and green, each color waxing and waning with the season, here in the north everything was always brown and dry.
For another hour they crept deeper into the hills, finding nothing but the occasional quail bursting from the brush and the tracks of last night’s mice in the sand. Three ravens, wings working heavily, rose past the shoulder of the hill ahead and into the low, gray sky. Avender dropped to the ground.
Redburr froze. “Rowrr. What do you see?”
“Three ravens. Flying toward us along the road.”
“Did they see you?”
“I don’t think so.”
The birds winged away south between the hills, their flight slow and deliberate. Redburr sniffed the air. His pointed ears lifted.
“Anything?” asked Avender.
“Not enough wind for smelling. And the hill’s in the way for listening. But I’m sure there’s something coming.”
Avender crawled forward to a point where he could see the empty road. Sensing movement at the top of the far ridge, he examined its crest. Nothing. But, as soon as he looked back at the road, the movement returned at the edge of his vision. Yes, there it was, a man walking just below the edge of the hill. Another followed over the rise.
“Two men on the far hill,” he whispered to the Shaper. “Scouts by the look of them.”
Redburr licked his sharp yellow teeth. “It’s about time we found someone. What about on this side? If they’re flankers, there should be a patrol over here as well.”
Avender scanned the slope above but was too low to the ground to see anything. Carefully he rose to a crouch, well aware that any sudden movement would draw the attention of the men across the valley as surely as he had been drawn to them. From the vantage of his knees he still saw no one on their side of the road.
Redburr growled softly. “I don’t like it. If it’s just a patrol, they wouldn’t be watching the road. They’d either be on the road or in the hills.”
“Maybe you should investigate.” Avender dropped back down slowly beside the dog. “You can get up the hill without being seen more easily than I. And if you don’t find anyone, you can see what’s on the other side.”
The Shaper slunk off into the bushes. Avender snaked down to a spot that commanded both a good view of the road and the other side of the dry valley, then settled in to watch from behind a brittle bush. Rocks prodded his ribs and knees.
A third man joined the two on the far hill, the feathers in his hair standing out against the gray sky. Stretched out in a line, the Keeadini patrol worked its way along the side of the ridge. Avender readied himself to lie there all day, if that’s what it took to learn what might come down the road behind them.
No sooner had he dug himself in than he heard voices on the hill above. They spoke in the lilting cadence of the tribesmen, whose language Avender had learned only a little of on previous trips with Redburr to the Waste. But there were many tribes and dialects in the plains and, though he thought he heard them say something about a dog, he understood nothing else. He didn’t dare move to see where they were, but it was only a matter of time before they crossed his trail and began to hunt him down.
His attention shifted to the dusty highway. Something was approaching around the side of the brown hill. His hands gripped the dry earth as two horsemen bearing black banners rode into view. Behind them a horde of sissit mobbed the valley, their mattocks and spears spiking the air like a weedy field. The tramp of their feet and the jangle of their metal harnesses rang clearly down the narrow valley. Avender wondered if he would have the chance to see how many there were before he was flushed from his hiding place. Already it looked like the vanguard of an entire army.
A shout pierced the air behind him. Avender decided the time for hiding was over. Like a startled buck, he leapt to his feet and raced toward the top of the ridge. A second cry followed the first, and he caught a quick glimpse of two Keeadini scouts unslinging their short bows as he bounded up the slope.
Five quick strides, his back feeling more exposed with each one, and Avender darted off at an angle to the right. Almost at once he changed direction again. An arrow burrowed into a bush beside him. He shifted direction a third time, pounding uphill all the while. Two more shots whistled past his legs. The ground grew steeper. Leaning forward, he used the bushes to pull himself along. The short Keeadini bows had little range; if he could only keep up his speed for a few more yards they would have to chase him. He hoped there wasn’t a third scout to head him off on the other side of the ridge.
Another short valley opened before him as he stumbled to the top of the rise, a higher hill beyond. Speed was all that mattered now. He needed to put enough distance between himself and the scouts to be out of reach of their arrows by the time they topped the hill.
He raced down the other side. The slope was steep enough that every step threatened to send him head over heels into the ragged gully at the bottom. Leaping bushes and dodging stretches of loose rock, he kept to the flatter sections as best he could, angling south. A straight descent after the first few strides would have been suicide. His footsteps ruffed rapidly against the dirt; his breathing huffed. He heard nothing of his pursuers, but knew they had not given up the chase.
At the bottom of the hill he took a quick glance over his shoulder, but saw no one. Other scouts and sissit would be joining the hunt, trying to cut him off to the north and south. Thighs straining, he bore off up the next hill. With a final burst of effort, he scrambled the last few yards over the crest. Chest heaving, he crouched against the side of the ridge and looked back.
He spotted the first two pursuers easily. One was following his trail closely, but the second had angled down the valley, already cutting off his retreat to the south. As Avender watched, the one immediately below him slowed, wary of any trap Avender might be preparing on the other side of the rise. But the man was farther away than Avender had expected. Like a good hunter, he was willing to let his quarry exhaust itself while he and his partners conserved their own energy. What they didn’t know was that Avender had spent most of the last five years following a bear around every forest and mountain in the three kingdoms. It would be a long time before he was exhausted.
He surveyed the rest of the ravine. He still couldn’t find the third Keeadini he supposed was working with the first two, but he did notice three sissit top the ridge behind them. Their pale skin gleamed like bones against the dry brown hillside. Avender guessed a company had been dispatched south to make sure he was driven farther north and west into the hills. When a third group of trackers crested the ridge to the north, Avender understood it was time to go. Ossdonc, or whoever else was in charge, was making every effort to prevent his escape.
He turned north. A small cliff blocked the ridge in that direction. If he got behind it, anyone pursuing him from the other side would have to loop farther north, or double back to the south, to regain his trail. That would put them as far behind him as the scouts who had flushed him out in the first place. The only question was whether or not the third Keeadini was already on the other side of the cliff.
Either way, it was his best chance. There was still no sign of Redburr. Avender rolled back from the edge of the hill and wondered if the Shaper had gone north or south. Not that it mattered. The dog could circle all of them three or four times without anyone knowing the difference. It was up to Redburr to find Avender, not the other way round.
Crouching, he worked his way back up the ridge until he was sure no one could spot him from the other side. He made no effort to hide his trail. The Keeadini scouts would see him anyway once they came over the hill. Unslinging his bow as he jogged along, Avender fitted an arrow to the string, just in case he found the missing scout. Already he felt better for his short rest.
A shout from behind told Avender the Keeadini following him had come over the top of the ridge and discovered his change in direction. He had expected that. What he hadn’t expected was to find the third scout sprawled across the brush in front of him at the same time. The man lay awkwardly across a patch of open ground, the earth darkening at his throat. A low snarl came from a clump of bushes nearby.
“Redburr?”
The hidden dog growled. “Go on up the ridge, boy. I’ll lie here. If the next one comes by alone I’ll take care of him, too. Then we’ll really have a start on the rest of them.”
With a last look at the dead tribesman, Avender started up along the base of the cliff. He had seen dead men before but wasn’t yet so hardened that the sight failed to bother him. He concentrated on his running, keeping his pace as fast as possible without any real strain, wanting to keep a reserve of strength for any sudden need. His heart thumped; his breathing came steadily and full.
Several minutes passed before he heard growling and fresh shouts of alarm. He didn’t bother to turn around. The Keeadini would be all the more eager to catch him now, having lost two of their number. But they would also be more careful, which would slow them down.
From the top of the ridge he descended westward. There were no paths, but the coarse sage was sparse enough that any way was easy. If he went north he would likely run into more sissit sent to cut him off, and south was the direction they expected him to take. Only by pushing deeper west could he be sure of getting farther away. Redburr would let him know if he thought they should follow another plan.
He found the Shaper waiting for him at the top of the next ridge. The dog lay in the thin shade of a shrub, his pink tongue dangling. Bounding to his feet, he trotted along lightly beside the man.
“You can slow down a bit,” he barked. “They’ve settled in for a long chase. You’re starting to pull away.”
“Isn’t that what we want?”
“No need to overdo it. You’ll never outrun them completely. Just keep on a steady pace for about an hour while I run on ahead. By the time you reach me I’ll have shifted into something else. I’ll think of what by the time I get there.”
“What if I can’t find you?”
“Follow my tracks.”
“The Keeadini will be following them too, you know.”
“That’s what I want them to do, boy.”
With a wink from one of his dark eyes, Redburr quickened his gait and pulled away. His red coat darted through the bushes and disappeared over the top of the hill. By the time the next valley opened up in front of Avender, there was no sign of his companion except paw prints in the dry earth. He took a moment to scan the hills behind him for Keeadini and found three descending the far ridge. Other bands would be widening the net to the north and south, traveling in groups now to avoid being picked off by the dog.
He continued on. The northern mountains smudged the distance, gray peaks blurred by the hazy sky. Around him the hills grew longer and steeper. To focus on something other than his aching legs and chest, Avender tried to guess what shape Redburr would take when he found him again. He really hoped it would be a horse. Then he could get off his tired feet and leave their pursuers behind. But, if Redburr thought they were going to have to fight, he might switch back to being a bear. His natural state was always best for fighting. Even manders had problems with Redburr when he was a bear.
Certain he had gone well past Redburr’s hour, Avender finally reached the end of the Shaper’s tracks. He found himself on the back side of another ridge, perhaps twice his height below the crest. Except for a tuft of red dog hair on a yellow sage, and an area that looked as if it had been brushed by a dog’s tail, there was no sign of the Shaper at all. Frowning, Avender wondered if he should continue on. Had Redburr changed into a bird and flown away?
He started on down the hill.
“Psst! Not that way.”
Avender looked back toward the spot he had just left. “Where are you?”
“Under the bush by the flat rock. How close behind are they?”
“The same as before.”
“Good. We won’t have long to wait.”
Avender took a step forward. “What have you turned into? A rock?”
“You know I can’t do rocks. If you can’t see me, it means they can’t either. Now listen, this is what I want you to do.”
Avender listened patiently as Redburr described his plan. “What if they shoot as soon as they see me?” he asked when the Shaper was done.
“They won’t,” Redburr’s voice assured him from the bush. “They’ll want you alive, for questioning. You watch, they’ll be very cautious when they approach. Just make sure your knife is close to hand.”
Hardly convinced, Avender nonetheless did as he was told. Redburr had, after all, survived more generations than Avender could count. He found a suitable rock and lay down beyond it, twisting his leg as much as he could to make it look injured. Knife in hand, he lay with his right arm caught awkwardly behind his back, his eyes open just enough to allow him to peer through his lashes.
Gradually his breathing slowed. His heart, however, pounded as hard as ever. Sweat muddied the dirt beneath his ears. A minute passed, and another. The longer he waited, the more his nervousness increased. A scorpion scuttled out from under a rock and crossed the ground beside him, its tail coiled.
The first nomad appeared on the ridge, silhouetted against the dingy sky. An arrow notched to his bow, he stopped short at the sight of Avender lying on the ground and held up a warning hand for his comrades. For a long time he studied the brush around his fallen quarry. Then, motioning for his companions to follow, he started down the slope.
“Watch out for the dog,” he said in Keeadini clear enough for Avender to understand.
Avender tightened his grip on the knife behind his back. The other two scouts followed their leader over the crest of the hill. Certain his slightest move would result in an arrow to the chest, Avender hardly dared breathe. The first tribesman came right up to his fallen quarry and kicked him hard, an arrow still pointed at Avender’s heart. Avender groaned at the blow and opened his eyes.
He wasn’t sure what happened next. Something rattled in the brush behind the first Keeadini. The other two looked to see what had moved. Avender heard two quick hisses, almost like a nokken spitting water. The trailing scouts screamed and dropped their bows to claw at their eyes. The one in the lead turned to see what was the matter and in that same instant Avender lunged forward, burying his knife in the man’s chest. The Keeadini scout grabbed weakly at the blade and pitched forward to his knees. Avender pulled his knife free, his jaw clenched against the rasp of metal on bone. The dead man fell face down in the earth. The other two nomads writhed on the ground, their hands still scrabbling at their eyes.
“Finish them,” ordered Redburr. “I can’t do it myself.”
Avender’s nose told him why. He burst into a fit of coughing even as he unshouldered his bow. Trying hard not to think about what he was doing, he put an arrow into each man. At his feet a large skunk marched back and forth, its black and white tail still upright in the air.
“Well done,” said the Shaper. Avender stepped back from the bodies and took several quick gulps of fresh air, more than he might have needed just to clear his nose of the skunk’s burning spray. He had never killed a man before and now that he had he wanted to get down on his knees and retch. But there wasn’t time. Thrusting his blade into the earth, he wiped it clean on his thigh.
The Shaper started back up the slope the way they had come. “Let’s go,” he said. “Our best chance is to double back again. We can slip south between the road and our pursuers before they figure out what’s happened. Don’t stand up! The whole point is to make sure we’re not seen.”
“Won’t the others have heard the shouting?”
“Not unless they’re already on this side of the ridge. Which they aren’t. Now come on.”
Avender crawled up the hill behind, and a little to the side, of the skunk.
“You made me lie there out in the open when all you were was a skunk?” he whispered.
“It worked, didn’t it? You can’t do everything with brute strength.”
“But what if you’d missed?”
“I perfected that technique a long time ago, boy. There wasn’t a chance I’d miss.”
Avender was still shaking his head incredulously when they reached the top of the ridge. Pausing, they looked right and left for any sign of other pursuers. Another three men were visible to the north, but it took Avender a while to find anyone south of them. Neither party showed any awareness of their fellows’ fate.
“Do you think that’s all there are?”
Redburr wiggled his small black nose. “There might be more to the south. But that’s the way we have to go. We have to get back and tell Worrel the war’s begun. And Brannis.”
“Are you sure that’s what this is?”
“Yes. I had a good look at that column before the Keeadini scouts flushed you out. Five thousand spears, at least. You didn’t leave me time to see the end.”
“I didn’t have much choice.”
“I know.” Redburr scratched at the base of the nearest shrub but pulled up nothing more than dirt and twigs. “Our choices are likely to keep lessening for some time. Right now we need to concentrate on getting out of here. We’ll lie low a little longer. Tell me what you see.”
“It would have been a lot easier if you’d just turned into a horse. Then we could have outflanked them in no time.”
“Yes, and be caught when I had to rest. This isn’t horse terrain, boy. Now they’ll never figure out what happened back there. They’ll be wondering for a month how you managed to get a skunk to help set up your ambush. And it’ll make them think twice about what you’re capable of, too. Besides, if I were a horse, I’d have to carry you. This way you can carry me.”
“That’s not going to happen. You’re a lot bigger than the average skunk.”
“True. But I can’t run any faster than the average skunk. If we have to run for it, I trust you’ll make sure I escape.”
Avender snorted, but didn’t reply. After all, Redburr could have run off on his own as a dog any time. They waited a little longer, but found no sign their pursuers had figured out what had happened. Satisfied his plan was working, Redburr led them south along the ridge, their path just below the crest of the hill. That way Avender could watch the hills around them for any sign that the enemy had found their trail again. Often Redburr used his fluffy tail to brush away the signs of Avender’s passage, just to confuse the Keeadini even more. It would be some time before the scouts noticed their quarry was heading south through country the hunters believed they had already scoured, if they ever noticed it at all.
They hadn’t gone far when they realized the skunk really couldn’t keep up. Avender’s long strides ate up the distance even when he wasn’t running. Reluctantly, he lifted Redburr onto his shoulders, where the Shaper soon fell fast asleep. His purring was oddly soothing and, as evening rose and the air cooled, the young man was glad of his fur collar. Despite his fatigue, he knew he would be moving south all night. In the darkness, as long as he kept below the ridge line, there was little chance of being spotted. With any luck they would be back on the plains by the next afternoon, well ahead of the Wizards’ army.
The land, so lifeless during the day, came awake at night. Small creatures rustled through the sere brush. Night birds called across the darkness. Near midnight Redburr woke and nipped at his friend’s fingers, telling Avender to put him down. Not as nimble as a cat, the skunk thumped awkwardly against the cold ground and stretched. Avender stepped out of the way, wary of possible accidents.
After learning there was still no sign of pursuit, the Shaper called a halt. Avender found himself a stretch of ground without too many rocks and settled down to rest. The skunk padded softly toward him, his white stripe gleaming in the starlight.
“What do you think you’re doing?” asked the Shaper.
“Taking a nap. Isn’t that why we’ve stopped?”
“No. I have to make another shift. You have to stand watch. What do you think I should be this time?”
“I don’t suppose you’d consider becoming a horse?”
“I hate being a horse. Might as well be a slave. The choices are bear or eagle.”
“If you’re an eagle you’ll be able to get the news back to Sir Worrel faster.”
“True. But I’ll also be leaving you alone.”
“I’m sure we’re well past the enemy’s patrols by now.”
Redburr snuffled along the ground, tracing the trail of some roving beetle in the dark. “True. But I still don’t like the idea of leaving you.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time. I’ll be okay.”
“Ferris would skin me alive if I lost you too.”
“It wouldn’t be your fault any more this time than it was with Reiffen.”
“It’s not the guilt that worries me, boy. It’s the skinning. Crossing Hern was bad enough, but I’m afraid Ferris is three times worse.”
“Prince Brizen can worry about that.”
Redburr cocked a glittering eye. “Now, you know that’s your own fault. I told you to speak up years ago. You need a good talking-to, but this isn’t the time. You have to keep watch while I change.”
Grumbling, Avender got back to his feet. He could hardly keep his eyes open, but that wouldn’t matter to the Shaper. All the same, he was glad this wasn’t the time for a talking-to. It wasn’t his fault Ferris didn’t like him the way he liked her. She didn’t like Brizen, either, but everyone assumed she would give in eventually. Especially now the war was about to begin and Reiffen would have to show his true colors. Avender remembered the last time he had seen his friend, cloaked with Fornoch in Prince Gerrit’s garden. No one could live seven years with the Three and come away unaffected. Not for the first time, he wished Redburr would let him tell Ferris what they had seen. At least that way she would be warned.
Taking a few steps into the brush, Avender looked out at the night. The rising moon peeped thinly through a cleft in the clouds. Except for the shuffle and grunt of Redburr settling himself, the sounds of the darkness remained as regular as breathing.
Half-dreaming, Avender thought of home. Memories like wind-born leaves whirled through his mind. The lake breeze curling Ferris’s hair. The way her cheek glowed red beside a fire. Sighing, he turned and picked his way back through the shadowed brush toward the Shaper. He had never witnessed Redburr shift and knew of no one who had. Usually the Shaper changed privately, which was only natural. At no other time was Redburr so vulnerable. Thousands of years into his life, it was safe to assume the Oeinnen had not grown so ancient by taking chances.
The moon’s dim radiance dipped lightly across the land. At first Avender made out nothing in the shadow where the Shaper lay, only vague lumps that seemed to shift and move, as if two or three small children were playing beneath a blanket. The light wasn’t strong enough to make out any detail. Whatever he was looking at was already much larger than a skunk, or even a large dog. And it was hard to tell where Redburr’s lumps ended and the bushes around him began. For a while longer he peered into the gloom, hoping to see the reflection of moonlight in an eye or even a long claw.
An owl’s wings flapped heavily in the dark; the scent of sage wafted up the hill in the stillness. But from Redburr’s recess came no sound, no matter how hard Avender strained in the darkness.
When he finally did hear something he backed away, quickly alert. The last time he had greeted Redburr shortly after a change had been a near disaster, and he had no desire to repeat the experience. Patiently he waited for some clearer sign the Shaper was done, the screech of his eagle voice or the sight of the bird waddling out of the bushes. Instead there was a loud cracking, as if something heavy had just rolled over a tree, and a large shape appeared against the sky. Shrubs shook as the bear waddled forward, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight like small stars.
“So. You decided not to turn into an eagle after all,” said Avender.
“You still think like a cub,” came the gruff reply. “Even if you are full grown.”
“You just figured out there’s nothing around here tall enough to get a really hefty eagle into the air, didn’t you?”
“I could always have turned into a pigeon, boy. But don’t thank me. I’m just a friend.”
“I’d have gotten back to camp fine on my own.”
“I’m not saying you wouldn’t. But my mind’ll be easier, this way. An extra few hours won’t change the world.”
The bear turned, his massive backside blocking out half the night sky. Even in the moonlight there was something comical about the way his heavy fur rolled back and forth on its cushion of fat with every step he took. All the same, Avender had to stretch his own legs to keep up as they resumed their journey, the low hills finally starting to flatten before them.