Chapter 25

The Ties That Bind

‘That’s it, move with the rhythm of the horse rather than holding stiff against it,’ Aliya said. Vali’s riding was slowly improving, but he still tended to bounce uncomfortably on Meera’s back. If he tried to gallop, he would fall off for sure.

Everything was taking so long. Day after interminable day of plodding along. Night after long night of shallow, broken sleep. The opposite of progress. It was impossible to avoid Luca, of course: but at least by avoiding the forest-in-between she could pretend that they weren’t there, silently judging her.

As they passed into the shade of a small grove, a shadow detached itself from behind a tree. A figure loomed over her. Blinking her eyes to adjust from the bright sunlight, she tried to assess if this was an ordinary person, an animal, or some spirit only she could see.

Vali yelled and reached for his bow: it must be something visible to the ordinary eye. A harsh voice confirmed this, saying, ‘Don’t touch the bow or I’ll crack the girl’s skull.’

A large man was standing over her, holding a wooden club above her head. Aliya froze, cataloguing every detail to assess the threat level. Rough clothes, a few days’ growth of beard on his flat face. Not angry, just business-like. This was what a real robber looked like. She could sense every hair-pore of his body, the weight of his feet upon the earth, the movement of the air and the breath of the trees. No time now to worry that this awareness wasn’t normal.

Quantum, in his usual place on her shoulder, slipped inside her shirt and out of sight, crawling down to her waist. She couldn’t blame him. The robber looked huge to her, so how much more intimidating must he seem to someone Quantum’s size?

‘We don’t have any money,’ Vali said, his voice trembling slightly.

‘Your horse will be worth a lot more than nothing,’ the man said. Aliya sucked in a shocked breath. Robbing someone of their possessions she could understand: it was unkind, but she knew it happened. But to consider taking another person’s horse—that was despicable. A horse wasn’t a possession; it was a treasured friend.

‘Come on, don’t make this difficult,’ the robber urged, ‘just hand over—’