17

River Crossing

The Outislanders have always spoken mockingly of the Six Duchies folk, declaring us slaves of the earth, farmers fit only for grubbing in the dirt. Eda, the mother goddess who is thanked for plentiful crops and multiplying flocks, is disdained by the OutIslanders as a goddess for a settled folk who have lost all spirit. The OutIslanders themselves worship only El, the god of the sea. He is not a deity to offer thanks to, but a god to swear by. The only blessing he sends his worshipers are storms and hardships to make them strong.

In this they misjudged the people of the Six Duchies. They believed folk who planted crops and raised sheep would soon come to have no more spirit than sheep. They came amongst us slaughtering and destroying and mistook our concern for our folk for weakness. In that winter, the small folk of Buck and Bearns, Rippon and Shoaks, the fisherfolk and herders, goose-girls and pig-boys, took up the war that our wrangling nobles and scattered armies waged so poorly and made it their own. The small folk of a land can only be oppressed so long before they rise up in their own defense, be it against outlanders or an unjust lord of their own.

The others grumbled the next morning about the cold and the need for haste. They spoke longingly of hot porridge and hearth cakes. There was hot water, but little more than that to warm our bellies. I filled Kettle’s teapot for her and then went back to fill my cup with hot water. I squinted my eyes against the pain as I dug in my pack for my elfbark. My Skill-dream of the night before had left me feeling sick and shaky. The very thought of food made me ill. Kettle sipped her tea and watched as I used my knife to scrape shavings from a lump of bark into my mug. It was hard to make myself wait for the liquid to brew. The extreme bitterness of it flooded my mouth, but almost immediately I felt my headache ease. Kettle abruptly reached a clawlike hand to pluck the chunk of bark from my fingers. She looked at it, sniffed it, and “Elfbark!” she exclaimed. She gave me a look of horror. “That’s a vicious herb for a young man to be using.”

“It calms my headaches,” I told her. I took a breath to steel myself, then drank off the rest of the mug. The gritty remnants of bark stuck to my tongue. I forced myself to swallow them, then wiped out my mug and returned it to my pack. I held out my hand and she gave back the chunk of bark, but reluctantly. The look she was giving me was very strange.

“I’ve never seen anyone just drink it down like that. Do you know what that stuff is used for, in Chalced?”

“I’ve been told they feed it to galley slaves, to keep their strength up.”

“Strength up and hopes down. A man on elfbark is easily discouraged. Easier to control. It may dull the pain of a headache, but it dulls the mind as well. I’d be wary of it, were I you.”

I shrugged. “I’ve used it for years,” I told her as I put the herb back in my pack.

“All the more reason to stop now,” she replied tartly. She handed me her pack to put back in the wagon for her.

It was midafternoon when Nik ordered our wagons to a halt. He and two of his men rode ahead, while the others assured us all was fine. Nik went ahead to ready the crossing place before we arrived there. I did not even need to glance at Nighteyes. He slipped away to follow Nik and his men. I leaned back on the seat and hugged myself, trying to stay warm.

“Hey, you. Call your dog back!” one of Nik’s men commanded me suddenly.

I sat up and made a show of looking around for him. “He’s probably just scented a rabbit. He’ll be back. Follows me everywhere, he does.”

“Call him back now!” the man told me threateningly.

So I stood up on the wagon seat and called Nighteyes. He did not come. I shrugged an apology at the men and sat down again. One continued to glare at me, but I ignored him.

The day had been clear and cold, the wind cutting. Kettle had been miserably silent all day. Sleeping on the ground had awakened the old pain in my shoulder to a constant jab. I did not even want to imagine what she was feeling. I tried to think only that we would soon be across the river, and that after that the Mountains were not far. Perhaps in the Mountains I would finally feel safe from Regal’s coterie.

Some men pull ropes by the river. I closed my eyes and tried to see what Nighteyes did. It was difficult, for he directed his eyes at the men themselves, while I wished to study the task they did. But just as I discerned they were using a guideline to restring a heavier rope across the river, two other men on the far side began energetically digging through a pile of driftwood in the curve of a bank. The concealed barge was soon revealed, and the men went to work chopping away the ice that had formed on it.

“Wake up!” Kettle told me irritably, and gave me a poke in the ribs. I sat up to see the other wagon already in motion. I stirred the mare’s reins and followed the others. We traveled a short way down the river road before turning off it onto an open section of bank. There were some burned-out huts by the river that had apparently perished in the fires years ago. There was also a crude ramp of logs and mortar, much decayed now. On the far side of the river, I could see the remains of the old barge, half sunken. Ice covered parts of it, but dead grass also stuck up from it. It had been many seasons since it had floated. The huts on the other side were in as poor repair as the ones over here, for their thatched roofs had collapsed completely. Behind them rose gentle hills covered in evergreens. Beyond them, towering in the distance, were the peaks of the Mountain Kingdom.

A team of men had attached the revealed barge and were working it across the river to us. The bow was pointed into the current. The barge was tightly bridled to the pulley line; even so, the angry river strove to tear it loose and wash it downstream. It was not a large vessel. A wagon and team was going to be a snug fit. There were railings down the side of the barge, but other than that it was simply a flat, open deck. On our side, the ponies that Nik and his men had been riding had been harnessed to pull on the barge’s towline while on the other side a team of patient mules backed slowly toward the water. As the barge came slowly toward us, her bow rose and fell as the river pushed against it. The current foamed and churned around its sides, while an occasional dip of the bow allowed a surge of water to fly up and over. It was not going to be a dry ride across.

The pilgrims muttered amongst themselves anxiously, but one man’s voice suddenly rose to quell them. “What other choice do we have?” he pointed out. Thereafter silence fell. They watched the barge come toward us with dread.

Nik’s wagon and team were the first load across. Perhaps Nik did it that way to give the pilgrims courage. I watched as the barge was brought up snug to the old ramp and secured stern-in. I sensed the displeasure of his team, but also that they were familiar with this. Nik himself led them onto the barge and held their heads while two of his men scrambled about and tied the wagon down to the cleats. Then Nik stepped off, and waved his hand in signal. The two men stood, one by each horse’s head, as the mule team on the other side took up the slack. The barge was cast off and moved out into the river. Laden, it sat more deeply in the water, but it did not bob as freely as it had. Twice the bow lifted high and then plunged back deeply enough to take a wash of water over it. All was silence on our side of the river as we watched the barge’s passage. On the other side, it was pulled in and secured bow-first, the wagon was unfastened, and the men drove it off and up the hill.

“There. You see. Nothing to worry about.” Nik spoke with an easy grin, but I doubted that he believed his own words.

A couple of men rode the barge back as it came across. They did not look happy about it. They clung to the railings and winced away from the flying spray off the river. Nevertheless they were both soaked by the time the barge reached our side and they stepped off. One man gestured Nik to one side and began to confer with him angrily, but he clapped him on the shoulders and laughed loudly as if it were all a fine joke. He held out his hand and they passed him a small pouch. He hefted it approvingly before hanging it from his belt. “I keep my word,” he reminded them, and then strode back to our group.

The pilgrims went across next. Some of them wished to cross in the wagon, but Nik patiently pointed out that the heavier the load, the lower the barge rode in the river. He herded them onto the barge and made sure that each person had a good place to grip along the rail. “You, too,” he called, motioning to Kettle and Starling.

“I’ll go across with my cart,” Kettle declared, but Nik shook his head.

“Your mare isn’t going to like this. If she goes crazy out there, you don’t want to be on the barge. Trust me. I know what I’m doing.” He glanced at me. “Tom? You mind riding across with the horse? You seem to handle her well.”

I nodded, and Nik said, “There, now, Tom’ll see to your mare. You go on, now.”

Kettle scowled, but had to own the sense of that. I helped her down, and Starling took her arm and walked her to the barge. Nik stepped onto the barge and spoke briefly to the pilgrims, telling them to simply hold on and not fear. Three of his men boarded the barge with them. One insisted on holding the smallest pilgrim child himself. “I know what to expect,” he told the anxious mother. “I’ll see she gets across. You just have a care to yourself.” The little girl began to cry at that and her shrill wailing could be heard even over the rushing of the river water as the barge was pulled out onto the river. Nik stood beside me watching them go.

“They’ll be fine,” he said, as much to himself as to me. He turned to me with a grin. “Well, Tom, a few more trips and I’ll be wearing that pretty earring of yours.”

I nodded to that silently. I’d given my word on the bargain but I was not happy about it.

Despite Nik’s words, I heard him sigh with relief when the barge reached the other side. The drenched pilgrims scuttled off even as the men were securing it. I watched Starling help Kettle off, and then some of Nik’s men hurried them up the bank and into the shelter of the trees. Then the barge was coming back to us again, bearing two more men. The pilgrims’ empty wagon went next, along with a couple of ponies. The pilgrims’ horses were not at all pleased. It took blindfolds and three men tugging to get them onto the barge. Once there and tied down, the horses still shifted as much as they could, snorting and shaking their heads. I watched them cross. On the other side, the team needed no urging to get the wagon swiftly off the barge. A man took the reins and the wagon rattled up the hill and out of sight.

The two men who rode back that time had the worst crossing yet. They were halfway across the river when an immense snag came in sight, bearing directly down on the barge. The clawing roots looked like a monstrous hand as the log bobbed in the fierce current. Nik shouted at our ponies and all of us sprang to help them haul on the rope, but even so the log struck the barge a glancing blow. The men on board yelled as the impact shook them from their grips on the railing. One was nearly flung off, but managed to catch a second post and hung on for dear life. Those two came off glaring and cursing, as if they suspected the mishap had been deliberate. Nik had the barge secured and himself checked all the lines fastening her to the pulley rope. The impact had knocked one railing loose. He shook his head over that, and warned his men about it as they drove the last wagon aboard.

Its crossing was no worse than any of the others. I watched with some trepidation, knowing that my turn was next. Fancy a bath, Nighteyes?

It will be worth it if there’s good hunting on the other side, he replied, but I could sense he shared my nervousness.

I tried to calm myself and Kettle’s mare as I watched them fasten the barge to the landing. I spoke soothingly to her as I led her down, doing all I could to assure her that she would be fine. She seemed to accept it, stepping calmly onto the scarred timbers of the deck. I led her out slowly, explaining it all as I went. She stood quietly as I tied her to a ring set in the deck. Two of Nik’s men roped the cart down fast. Nighteyes leaped on, then sank down, belly low, his claws digging into the wood. He didn’t like the way the river tugged at the barge greedily. Truth to tell, neither did I. He ventured over to crouch beside me, feet splayed.

“You go on across with Tom and the cart,” Nik told the soaked men who had already made one trip. “Me and my boys will bring our ponies on the last trip. Stay clear of that mare, now, in case she decides to kick.”

They came aboard warily, eyeing Nighteyes almost as distrustfully as they watched the mare. They clustered at the back of the cart, and held on there. Nighteyes and I remained at the bow. I hoped we’d be out of reach of the mare’s hooves there. At the last moment, Nik declared, “I think I’ll ride this one over with you.” He cast the barge off himself with a grin and a wave at his men. The mule team on the other side of the river started up, and with a lurch we moved out into the river.

Watching something is never the same as doing it. I gasped as the first slashing spray of river water struck me. We were suddenly a toy in the clutches of an unpredictable child. The river rushed past us, tearing at the barge and roaring its frustration that it could not drag us free. The furious water near deafened me. The barge took a sudden plunge and I found myself gripping the railing as a surge of water flowed over the deck and clutched at my ankles in passing. The second time a plume of water smacked up from the bow and drenched us all, the mare screamed. I let go of my grip of the railing, intending to take hold of her headstall. Two of the men seemed to have the same idea. They were working their way forward, clinging to the cart. I waved them away and turned to the mare.

I will never know what the man intended. Perhaps to club me with the pommel of his knife. I caught the motion from the corner of my eye and turned to face him just as the barge gave another lurch. He missed me and staggered forward against the mare. The horse, already anxious, panicked into a frenzy of kicking. She threw her head wildly, slamming it against me so that I staggered away. I had almost caught my balance when the man made another flailing try at me. On the back of the cart, Nik was struggling with another man. He angrily shouted something about his word and his honor. I ducked my attacker’s blow just as a crash of water came over the bow. The force of it washed me toward the center of the barge. I caught hold of a cartwheel and clung there, gasping. I clawed my sword half-free just as someone else grabbed me from behind. My first attacker came at me, grinning, his knife blade-first this time. Suddenly a wet furry body streaked past me. Nighteyes hit him squarely in the chest, slamming him back against the railing.

I heard the crack of the weakened post. Slowly, so slowly, wolf, man, and railing went tipping toward the water. I lunged after them, dragging my assailant with me. As they went in, I managed to catch both the shattered remains of the post and Nighteyes’ tail. I sacrificed my sword to do it. My grip was only on the end of his tail but I held on. His head came up, his front paws scrabbled frantically against the edge of the barge. He started to climb back on.

Then a booted foot came down with a smash on my shoulder. The dull ache in it exploded. The next boot caught me in the side of the head. I watched my fingers fly open, saw Nighteyes spun away from me, snatched by the river and borne off.

“My brother!” I cried aloud. The river swallowed my words, and the next slosh of water over the deck drenched me and filled my mouth and nose. When the water passed, I tried to get to my hands and knees. The man who had kicked me knelt beside me. I felt the press of his knife against my neck.

“Just stay where you are, and hold on,” he suggested grimly. He turned and yelled back at Nik. “I’m doing this my way!”

I did not answer. I was questing out savagely, putting all my strength into reaching after the wolf. The barge surged under me, the river roared past, and I was drenched by spray and waves. Cold. Wet. Water in my mouth and nose, choking. I couldn’t tell where I ended and Nighteyes began. If he still existed at all.

The barge scraped suddenly against the ramp.

They were clumsy in getting me to my feet on the other side. The one removed his knife before the second man had a good grip on my hair. I came up fighting, caring nothing for anything else they might do to me now. I radiated hate and fury and the panicky horses followed my lead. One man went down close enough to the mare that one of her hooves stove in his ribs. That left two, or so I thought. I shouldered one into the river. He managed to catch hold of the barge and clung there while I choked his companion. Nik shouted what sounded like a warning. I was squeezing his throat and bashing his head on the deck when the others fell on me. These ones wore their brown and gold openly. I tried to make them kill me, but they didn’t. I heard other cries from far up the hillside and thought I recognized Starling’s voice raised in anger.

After a time, I lay trussed on the snowy riverbank. A man stood guard over me with a drawn sword. I didn’t know if he threatened me, or if he was charged with keeping the others from killing me. They stood in a circle, staring down at me avidly, like a pack of wolves who had just brought down a deer. I didn’t care. Frantically, I quested out, caring nothing for anything they might do to me. I could sense that somewhere he fought for his life. My sense of him grew fainter and fainter as he put all his energies into simply surviving.

Nik was suddenly flung down beside me. One of his eyes was starting to puff shut and when he grinned at me, blood stained his teeth. “Well, here we are, Tom, on the other side of the river. I said I’d bring you here, and here we are. I’ll take that earring now, as we agreed.”

My guard kicked him in the ribs. “Shut up,” he growled.

“This wasn’t the agreement,” Nik insisted when he could take a breath.

He looked up at them all, tried to choose one to speak to. “I had a deal with your captain. I told him I’d bring him this man, and in return, he offered me gold and safe passage. For me and the others.”

The sergeant gave a bitter laugh. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first deal Captain Mark made with a smuggler. Odd. Not a one of them ever profited us, hey, boys? And Captain Mark, he’s down the river a way now, so it’s hard to tell just what he promised you. Always liked his glory shows, did Mark. Well, now he’s gone. But I know what my orders are, and that’s to arrest all smugglers and bring them back to Moonseye. I’m a good soldier, I am.”

The sergeant stooped down and relieved Nik of the pouch of gold, and his own pouch as well. Nik struggled, and lost some blood in the process. I did not bother watching much of it. He’d sold me to Regal’s guards. And how had he known who I was? Pillow talk with Starling, I told myself bitterly. I had trusted, and it had brought me what it always did. I did not even turn to look when they dragged him away.

I had but one true friend, and my foolishness had cost him. Again. I stared up at the sky and reached out of my body, threw my senses as wide as I could, questing, questing. I found him. Somewhere, his claws scrabbled and scratched at a steep and icy bank. His dense coat was laden with water, heavy with it so he could scarcely keep his head up. He lost his purchase, the river seized him again, and once more he spun around in it. It pulled him under and held him there, then threw him suddenly to the surface. The air he gasped in was laden with spray. He had no strength left.

Try! I commanded him. Keep trying!

And the fickle current flung him again against a riverbank, but this one was a tangle of dangling roots. His claws caught in them, and he hauled himself high, scrabbling at them as he choked out water and gasped in air. His lungs worked like bellows.

Get out! Shake off!

He gave me no answer at all, but I felt him haul himself out. Little by little, he gained the brushy bank. He crawled out like a puppy, on his belly. Water ran from him, forming a puddle around him where he cowered. He was so cold. Frost was already forming on his ears and muzzle. He stood up and tried to shake. He fell over. He staggered to his feet again and tottered a few more steps from the river. He shook again, water flying everywhere. The action both lightened him and stood his coat up. He stood, head down, and gagged out a gush of river water. Find shelter. Curl up and get warm, I told him. He was not thinking very well. The spark that was Nighteyes had almost winked out. He sneezed violently several times, then looked around himself. There, I urged him. Under that tree. Snow had bent the evergreen’s fronds almost to the ground. Beneath the tree was a little hollow, thickly floored with shed needles. If he crept in there, and curled up, he might get warm again. Go on, I urged him. You can make it. Go on.

“I think you kicked him too hard. He’s just staring at the sky.”

“Did you see what that woman did to Skef? He’s bleeding like a pig. He popped her a good one back.”

“Where’d the old one go? Did anyone find her?”

“She won’t get far in this snow, so don’t worry about it. Wake him up and get him on his feet.”

“He’s not even blinking his eyes. He’s hardly even breathing.”

“I don’t care. Just take him to the Skill-wizard. After that, he’s not our problem.”

I knew guards dragged me to my feet, I knew I was walked up the hill. I paid no attention to that body. Instead, I shook myself again, and then crept under the tree. There was just room to curl myself up. I put my tail over my nose. I flicked my ears a few times to shake the last of the water from them. Go to sleep now. Everything’s fine. Go to sleep. I closed his eyes for him. He was still shivering, but I could feel a hesitant warmth creeping through him again. Gently I drew myself clear.

I lifted my head and looked out of my own eyes. I was walking up a trail, with a tall Farrow guard on either side of me. I didn’t need to look back to know that others followed. Ahead of us, I saw Nik’s wagons, pulled up in the shelter of the trees. I saw his men sitting on the ground with their hands bound behind them. The pilgrims, still dripping, huddled around a fire. Several guards stood around their group as well. I didn’t see Starling or Kettle. One woman clutched her child to her and wept noisily over his shoulder. The boy did not appear to be moving. A man met my eyes, then turned aside to spit on the ground. “It’s the Witted Bastard’s fault we’ve come to this,” I heard him say loudly. “Eda scowls upon him! He tainted our pilgrimage!”

They marched me to a comfortable tent pitched in the lee of some great trees. I was shoved through the tent flaps and pushed down onto my knees on a thick sheepskin rug on an elevated wooden floor. One guard kept a firm grip on my hair as the sergeant announced, “Here he is, sir. The wolf got Captain Mark, but we got him.”

A fat brazier of coals gave off a welcome heat. The interior of the tent was the warmest place I’d been in days. The sudden heat almost stupefied me. But Burl did not share my opinion. He sat in a wooden chair on the other side of the brazier, his feet outstretched toward it. He was robed and hooded and covered over with furs as if there were nothing else between him and the night cold. He had always been a large-framed man; now he was heavy as well. His dark hair had been curled in imitation of Regal’s. Displeasure shone in his dark eyes.

“How is it that you aren’t dead?” he demanded of me.

There was no good answer to that question. I merely looked at him, expression bland, walls tight. His face flushed suddenly red and his cheeks appeared swollen with his anger. When he spoke, his voice was tight. He glared at the sergeant.

“Report properly.” Then, before the man could begin, he asked, “You let the wolf get away?”

“Not let him, no, sir. He attacked the captain. He and Captain Mark went into the river together, sir, and were carried off. Water that cold and swift, neither had a chance to survive. But I’ve sent a few men downriver to check the bank for the captain’s body.”

“I’ll want the wolf’s body as well, if it’s washed up. Be sure your men know that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you secure the smuggler, Nik? Or did he get away, as well?” Burl’s sarcasm was heavy.

“No, sir. We have the smuggler and his men. We have those traveling with him as well, though they put up more of a fight than we expected. Some ran off in the woods, but we got them back. They claim to be pilgrims seeking Eda’s shrine in the Mountains.”

“That concerns me not at all. What matters why a man broke the King’s law, after he has broken it? Did you recover the gold the captain paid the smuggler?”

The sergeant looked surprised. “No, sir. Gold paid to a smuggler? There was no sign of that. I wonder if it went downriver with Captain Mark. Perhaps he hadn’t given it to the man …”

“I am not a fool. I know far more of what goes on than you think I do. Find it. All of it, and return it here. Did you capture all the smugglers?”

The sergeant took a breath and decided on the truth. “There were a few with the pony team on the far side when we took down Nik. They rode off before …”

“Forget them. Where is the Bastard’s accomplice?”

The sergeant looked blank. I believe he did not know the word.

“Did not you capture a minstrel? Starling?” Burl demanded again.

The sergeant looked uncomfortable. “She got a bit out of control, sir. When the men were subduing the Bastard on the ramp. She lit into the man holding her and broke his nose. It took a bit to … get her under control.”

“Is she alive?” Burl’s tone left no doubt of his contempt for their competence.

The sergeant flushed. “Yes, sir. But …”

Burl silenced them with a look. “Were your captain still alive, he would wish he were dead now. You have no concept of how to report, or of how to retain control of a situation. A man should have been sent to me immediately, to inform me of these events as they happened. The minstrel should not have been permitted to see what was happening, but secured immediately. And only an idiot would have tried to subdue a man on a barge in the middle of a strong current when all he had to do was wait for the barge to land. He’d have had a dozen swords at his command there. As for the smuggler’s bribe, it will be returned to me, or you shall all go unpaid until it is made up. I am not a fool.” He glared around at everyone in the tent. “This has been bungled. I will not excuse it.” He folded his lips tightly. When he spoke again, he spat out the words. “All of you. Go.”

“Yes, sir. Sir? The prisoner?”

“Leave him here. Leave two men outside, swords drawn. But I wish to speak to him alone.” The sergeant bowed and hastened out of the tent. His men followed him promptly.

I looked up at Burl and met his eyes. My hands were bound tightly behind me, but no one held me on my knees anymore. I got to my feet and stood looking down on Burl. He met my gaze unflinchingly. When he spoke his voice was quiet. It made his words all the more threatening. “I repeat to you what I told the sergeant. I am not a fool. I do not doubt that you already have a plan to escape. It probably includes killing me. I have a plan as well, and it includes my surviving. I am going to tell it to you. It’s a simple plan, Bastard. I have always preferred simplicity. It is this. If you give me any trouble at all, I shall have you killed. As you have no doubt deduced, King Regal wishes you brought to him alive. If possible. Don’t think that will prevent me from killing you if you become inconvenient. If you are thinking of your Skill, I will warn you my mind is well warded. If I even suspect you of trying it, we will try your Skill against my guard’s sword. As for your Wit, well, it seems my problems are solved there, as well. But should your wolf materialize, he, too, is not proof against a sword.”

I said nothing.

“Do you understand me?”

I gave a single nod.

“That is as well. Now. If you give me no problems, you will be treated fairly. As will the others. If you are difficult at all, they, too, will share your privations. Do you understand that as well?” He met my gaze, demanding an answer.

I matched his quiet tone. “Do you truly think I’d care if you spilled Nik’s blood, now that he’s sold me to you?”

He smiled. It turned me cold, for that smile had once belonged to the carpenter’s genial apprentice. A different Burl now wore his skin. “You’re a wily one, Bastard, and have been since I’ve known you. But you’ve the same weakness of your father and the Pretender; you believe even one of these peasants’ lives to be worth the equal of yours. Be any trouble to me, and they all pay, to the last drop of blood. Do you understand me? Even Nik.”

He was right. I had no stomach to visualize the pilgrims paying for my daring. I quietly asked, “And if I am cooperative? What becomes of them, then?”

He shook his head over my foolishness in caring. “Three years’ servitude. Were I a less kindly man, I’d take a hand from each of them, for they have directly disobeyed the King’s orders in attempting to cross the border and deserve to be punished as traitors. Ten years for the smugglers.”

I knew few of the smugglers would survive. “And the minstrel?”

I do not know why he answered my question, but he did. “The minstrel will have to die. You know that already. She knew who you were, for Will questioned her back in Blue Lake. She chose to help you, when she could have served her king instead. She is a traitor.”

His words ignited the spark of my temper. “In helping me, she serves the true king. And when Verity returns, you will feel his wrath. There will be no one to shield you or the rest of your false coterie.”

For a moment, Burl only looked at me. I caught control of myself. I had sounded like a child, threatening another with his big brother’s wrath. My words were useless, and worse than useless.

“Guards!” Burl did not shout. He scarcely lifted his voice at all, but the two were inside the tent instantly, swords drawn and pointed at my face. Burl behaved as if he did not notice the weapons. “Bring the minstrel to us here. And see that she does not get ‘out of control’ this time.” When they hesitated, he shook his head and sighed. “Go on, now, both of you. Send your sergeant to me as well.” When they had departed, he met my eyes and made a face of discontent. “You see what they give me to work with. Moonseye has ever been the refuse pile for Six Duchies soldiery. I have the cravens, the fools, the discontents, the connivers. And then I must face my king’s displeasure when every task given them is botched.”

I think he actually expected me to commiserate with him. “So, Regal has sent you here to join them,” I observed instead.

Burl gave me a strange smile. “As King Shrewd sent your father and Verity here before me.”

That was true. I looked down at the thick sheepskin covering the floor. I was dripping on it. The warmth from the brazier was seeping into me, causing me to shiver as if my body were giving up cold it had hoarded. For an instant I quested away from myself. My wolf slept now, warmer than I was. Burl reached to a small table beside his chair and took up a pot. He poured a steaming cup of beef broth for himself and sipped at it. I could smell its savor. Then he sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“We’ve come a long ways from where we began, haven’t we?” He almost sounded regretful.

I bobbed my head. He was a cautious man, Burl, and I did not doubt that he would carry out his threats. I had seen the shape of his Skill, and seen, too, how Galen had bent and twisted it into a tool that Regal would use. He was loyal to an upstart prince. That Galen had forged into him; he could no longer separate it from his Skill. He had ambitions for power, and he loved the indolent life his Skill had earned him. His arms no longer bulged with the muscles of his work. Instead his belly stretched his tunics and the jowls of his cheeks hung heavy. He seemed a decade older than I was. But he would guard his position against anything that threatened it. Guard it savagely.

The sergeant reached the tent first, but his men came with Starling shortly afterward. She walked between them and entered the tent with dignity despite her bruised face and swollen lip. There was an icy calm to her as she stood straight before Burl and gave him no greeting at all. Perhaps only I sensed the fury she contained. Of fear she showed no sign at all.

When she stood alongside me, Burl lifted his eyes to consider us both. He pointed one finger at her. “Minstrel. You are aware that this man is FitzChivalry, the Witted Bastard.”

Starling made no response. It was not a question.

“In Blue Lake, Will, of Galen’s Coterie, servant of King Regal, offered you gold, good honest coin, if you could help us track down this man. You denied all knowledge of where he was.” He paused, as if giving her a chance to speak. She said nothing. “Yet, here we have found you, traveling in his company again.” He took a deep breath. “And now he tells me that you, in serving him, serve Verity the Pretender. And he threatens me with Verity’s wrath. Tell me. Before I respond to this, do you agree with this? Or has he misspoken on your behalf?”

We both knew he was offering her a chance. I hoped she’d have the sense to take it. I saw Starling swallow. She did not look at me. When she spoke, her voice was low and controlled. “I need no one to speak for me, my lord. Nor am I any man’s servant. I do not serve FitzChivalry.” She paused, and I felt dizzying relief. But then she took breath and went on, “But if Verity Farseer lives, then he is true King of the Six Duchies. And I do not doubt that all who say otherwise will feel his wrath. If he returns.”

Burl sighed out through his nose. He shook his head regretfully. He gestured to one of the waiting men. “You. Break one of her fingers. I don’t care which one.”

“I am a minstrel!” Starling objected in horror. She stared at him in disbelief. We all did. It was not unheard-of for a minstrel to be executed for treason. To kill a minstrel was one thing. To harm one was entirely another.

“Did you not hear me?” Burl asked the man when he hesitated.

“Sir, she’s a minstrel.” The man looked stricken. “It’s bad luck to harm a minstrel.”

Burl turned away from him to his sergeant. “You will see he receives five lashes before I retire this night. Five, mind you, and I wish to be able to count the separate welts on his back.”

“Yes, sir,” the sergeant said faintly.

Burl turned back to the man. “Break one of her fingers. I don’t care which one.” He spoke the command as if he had never uttered the words before.

The man moved toward her like a man in a dream. He was going to obey, and Burl was not going to stop the order.

“I will kill you,” I promised Burl sincerely.

Burl smiled at me serenely. “Guardsman. Make that two of her fingers. I do not care which ones.” The sergeant moved swiftly, drawing his knife and stepping behind me. He set it to my throat and pushed me to my knees. I looked up at Starling. She glanced at me once, her eyes flat and empty, then looked away. Her hands, like mine, were bound behind her. She stared straight ahead at Burl’s chest. Still and silent she stood, going whiter and whiter until he actually touched her. She cried out, a hoarse guttural sound as he gripped her wrists. Then she screamed, but her cry could not cover the two small snaps her fingers made as the man bent them backward at the joints.

“Show me,” Burl commanded.

As if angry with Starling that he had had to do this, the man thrust her down on her face. She lay on the sheepskin before Burl’s feet. After the scream, she had not made a sound. The two smallest fingers on her left hand stood out crazily from the others. Burl looked down at them, and nodded, satisfied.

“Take her away. See she is well guarded. Then come back and see your sergeant. When he is finished with you, come to me.” Burl’s voice was even.

The guard seized Starling by her collar and dragged her to her feet. He looked both ill and angry as he prodded her out of the tent. Burl nodded to the sergeant. “Let him up, now.”

I stood looking down at him, and he looked up at me. But there was no longer the slightest doubt as to who was in control of the situation. His voice was very quiet as he observed, “Earlier you said you understood me. Now I know that you do. The journey to Moonseye can be swift and easy for you, FitzChivalry. And for the others. Or it can be otherwise. It is entirely up to you.”

I made no reply. None was needed. Burl nodded to the other guardsman. He took me from Burl’s tent to another one. Four other guards inhabited it. He gave me both bread and meat and a cup of water. I was docile as he retied my hands in front of me so I could eat. Afterward, he pointed me to a blanket in a corner, and I went like an obedient dog. They bound my hands behind me again and tied my feet. They kept the brazier burning all night, and always there were at least two watching me.

I did not care. I turned away from them and faced the wall of the tent. I closed my eyes, and went, not to sleep, but to my wolf. His coat was mostly dry, but still he slept in exhaustion. Both the cold and the battering of the river had taken their toll of him. I took what small comfort was left to me. Nighteyes lived, and now he slept. I wondered on which side of the river.