Kingdom of Royth Part 4

Cayla turned at the note in his voice and glared at him. "You dislike the Guardians of the Cult?" Blade had sense enough to shake his head. "No, Blahyd, we head straight north. Before long we will come to the coast of a wide stretch of land long in dispute between Mardha and the neighboring barbarians to the north. It is a wild land, shunned by most. But there are numbers of little creeks and river mouths. We can find fresh water and lie concealed until the count's warfleet has exhausted its rowers beating up and down in search of us. And we can divide the booty and perhaps find some entertainment." There was a glint in her eyes as she said that last word that made Blade feel vaguely uneasy.

CHAPTER 11.

A series of rainsqualls lasting through most of the morning helped them break through the first line of patrols. The only s.h.i.+p challenged was Thunderbolt, but with her masts down and most of her crew below at the oars she looked enough like a local wars.h.i.+p to pa.s.s by safely. This incident again confirmed Blade's low opinion of the efficiency of the count's armed forces. He began to wonder if it might not be possible to organize a pirate fleet large enough to occupy the whole County for several weeks and carry away everything that wasn't nailed down. Then he realized that he was thinking perhaps too much like a pirate of Neral. As usual, he was slipping deep into the pattern of thoughts of what he was supposed to be and retaining only a tenuous connection with the Richard Blade of Home Dimension.

Some thirty hours from Tramport, just before dawn, Sea Witch led her squadron into an almost landlocked bay. Not content with that, Cayla had the three s.h.i.+ps pull almost to the rear of the bay into the mouth of a small river flowing into it. She ordered the exhausted and staggering crews ash.o.r.e to cut branches and bushes to tie all over the s.h.i.+ps, then personally supervised the backbreaking job of dismounting two of the catapults and remounting them under cover to guard the entrance to the bay. This work took most of the day, and only occasional rain showers that drenched their sweating bodies kept most of the crewmen from collapsing in their tracks. Finally, when Cayla was satisfied that all that could be done had been done, she gave the order for sleep. Most of the men dropped where they stood and slept like the dead on the bare planks for twelve hours, oblivious to further showers. Blade unashamedly did the same. Twenty men with clubs could have taken the whole squadron and everybody in it, but they were not bothered.

Still, it was two full days more before Cayla decided they could let down their guard enough to do what everybody had been waiting for since they left the burning town-divide the booty. That, as Blade had heard, could be a b.l.o.o.d.y mess under a weak captain. But none of the captains or mates here were weak, so the division went smoothly.

There was much to divide. About two hundred thousand Roythan crowns-no record for the pirates, but enough to make the captains and officers wealthy men and keep even the boys who aided the cooks and carpenters in comfort for several years. There was a large amount in silver and gold coins and almost an equal amount in jewels, worked gold, and silver ornaments. There were enough fancy weapons to arm the whole crew of the squadron twice over, several hundred bolts of silk and other valuable fabrics, and a.s.sorted boxes of spices and drugs, including a box of the blue dream powder which Cayla promptly threw overboard.

When Cayla was through supervising the division, and then through gloating, she turned to the prisoners. Although Blade's party had brought back only the one girl, the others had been more fortunate and had scooped up half a dozen influential citizens (or citizens who had looked influential) in the town itself and three s.h.i.+p captains and an army officer too drunk to fight in the harbor area. These promised a tidy sum in ransoms.

Cayla took even more complete charge of dealing with the prisoners than she had of dividing the other spoils. Tuabir and Esdros stood well behind her. Blade suspected that in Tuabir's case at least it was because he had no wish to be a.s.sociated with Cayla's methods of treating the prisoners.

As each was brought before her, she barked a command, "Kneel!" Those who were a split second slow in going down on their knees had her light but deadly whip laid across their faces and would go down with blood dripping into the sand. Then she would stride up and down in front of them, snapping out questions. Name? Order? Family? Fortune? Skills, if any? And so on. Sometimes she would stop in front of the captive with a sinuous swaying of her body that reminded Blade of a snake swaying in front of a bird it wanted to charm. If the captive looked up-and most men did-crack would go the whip again, and more blood would be dripping into the sand.

Most of the prisoners, once properly humiliated, were admitted to ransom. Some of them, Blade suspected, would never be free again, seeing the way they blanched and groaned when the ransom figures were read out. The captive officer, however, was kept kneeling for a particularly long time. Finally, Cayla turned to Blade and said, "What say you, Blahyd? Do you think anyone will consider a soldier-an officer-who was too drunk to fight worth ransoming?"

Considering what usually happened to officers caught drunk on duty in Home Dimension, Blade had to shake his head. "Well, then," said Cayla, "I think we will make a slave of this one. He should be good for a year or two on the farms at least. His limbs are thick, even thicker than his head."

The man howled wordlessly and threw himself face down in the sand. Then, as Cayla stepped over toward him with the whip ready, he suddenly sprang up and lunged at her. One huge hand was already clutching at the hilt of her dagger when one of the guards whipped up his pike and hurled it like a spear straight at the officer's back. It caught him just below the shoulder blades and drove clear through him and out his chest, narrowly missing Cayla's leg as it did so. She jumped back as the man toppled forward and lay without a twitch.

"Good eyes and a good hand, there, sailor," she said to the guard. "Two extra gold pieces for you from my personal share." Two gold pieces, Blade knew, were enough to satisfy most of a sailor's wants for the better part of a year. He was not surprised when the guard gaped and grinned and stammered his thanks.

Now the guards brought the last prisoner forward-the fort commander's daughter, the only woman among the prisoners. Cayla's expression as she watched the girl made Blade uneasy, and the silky note in her voice as she spoke made him swallow and wait for whatever was coming in a cold sweat.

He did not have long to wait. The girl's name was Dynera, and now that her father was dead, she had no family left. None? No one who might pay a ransom?

"Please-I-I-no. My mother-she was descended from Count Prasin the Fourth. But she was an orphan. All I had was my f-f-father," and she burst into tears.

Blade saw Cayla's eyes flare at the mention of the Count and shuddered. Prasin the Fourth had been the greatest of all the persecutors of the Cult. The poor girl had just signed her own death warrant, and now the snake would strike.

"Prasin the Fourth? Indeed, child, you come from a high lineage! The present count-you are sure he will not consider a ransom, for your mother's sake if not your own?"

"N-n-no. My mother's parents were-were out of favor at c-c-court, and-"

"Then I say you lie! And I will prove it on your body!" Whap-crack the whip slashed across the girl's face. She screamed and clapped her hands to her cheeks. Cayla stepped close until she loomed over the girl and glared down at her. "By the Law of the Woman's Duel, you can prove that you are what you say by besting me in equal combat. We will even release you without ransom." At those words, the girl looked up, with the beginnings of hope in her eyes. "Yes, freedom! Would you rather fight for it, or shall I have you spread-eagled here on the sand and turned over to my crew before you die?" The girl blanched and murmured: "I will fight."

"Good!" There was an unholy l.u.s.t in that one word. "Your weapons?"

The girl looked around her, the expression in her eyes reminding Blade even more than before of a trapped bird. "I-I'll take a sword." Blade had to close his eyes for a moment to fight off the nausea. The girl had probably never handled any weapon more lethal than a fruit knife in her life. Yet here she was taking up a sword to fight one of the deadliest women Blade had ever seen. She would have no chance-no chance to do anything except provide a few minutes' obscene pleasure for Cayla and the more loutish among the pirates.

Cayla did not put off her pleasure. One of the pirates threw the girl a sword and she picked it up and waved it a couple of times. Blade saw that she was quite as inexperienced as he had suspected. But then he remembered that sometimes the rank amateur, by doing the unexpected, can defeat the professional who is trained only in dealing with other professionals. Blade of course had no hope that with Cayla dead the girl would be released. Her death would still be slow and agonizing. But with Cayla dead, at least all her monstrous plans would fall with her, and his own situation would be much simpler.

Cayla did nothing to prepare herself for the fight beyond kicking off her boots and knotting a sweat band around her head. Then she stepped forward into the thirty-foot square of sand marked out with ropes strung from oars. From her side, the girl stepped forward, the sword held out in front of her as though it were a snake that might turn and bite her.

"Be you ready?" Cayla called out, in the formal Duel query.

The girl stammered, "R-ready."

Cayla raised her weapons-the whip and the foot-long, razor-edged dagger. But she did not dart forward. Blade knew that if she had done so, she could have had the girl dead on the sand in a matter of seconds. She was going to play with the poor creature. His stomach churned, but he kept it under control by a great effort.

Now the girl rushed in, the sword swinging wide and whistling around. She had strong wrists, at least. But Cayla was cat-quick, ducking the wild stroke and coming up, not with the dagger but with the whip full force across the girl's stomach. She gasped and jumped back.

Now Cayla came in, the dagger flas.h.i.+ng up and out in a stroke deliberately timed to whistle past the girl's cheek and rip her ear. Blood trickled again. Cayla danced aside from the girl's wild return slash, darted in again, and this time the dagger slashed the shoulder of the girl's blouse open without touching the skin below. The girl blushed as the blouse drooped down, half-baring one breast, but made no effort to strip the rest of the blouse off. Instead, she rushed Cayla again, the sword fanning the air in front of her. The pirate woman used neither dagger nor whip this time. She dropped backward onto her hands and kicked out with both feet as the girl came within range. Both feet slammed into Dynera's stomach and the girl gasped explosively and sat down with a thump. Before she could rise, Cayla was up again, pinning her sword arm to the ground with one foot. Cayla reached down and laid the whip across the hand holding the sword. It opened and the sword lay on the sand. Cayla kicked it away without taking her eyes off the girl.

After that, Blade's memory stopped recording the details of the fight. All he remembered afterwards was that it went on and on and on, with far too many of the pirates cheering wildly. It went on until the girl lay in the sand naked, b.l.o.o.d.y, dead.

Cayla stood up, threw her dagger and whip down on the b.l.o.o.d.y sand, and came toward Blade. "Well fought," he managed to croak. He could not have reached out to her or touched her to become King of Royth. He barely managed to avoid vomiting until he had made his way some fifty paces into the forest and was out of sight of the beach and the people on it.

He was completely empty, not only internally but emotionally, when he got to his feet and became conscious of somebody standing behind him. His sword was out and he was whirling around to strike before he recognized Tuabir.

"Well, Master Blahyd. Our lady fiend has had her fun for this trip. Your own lady is safe for the moment."

"My lady?"

"Aye, the Lady Alixa. If you're watchful of Cayla when she casts an eye on Alixa, you'll see what'll give you no pleasure. And one of these days you may well see her challenging your lady to use her the way she used that poor girl today."

The idea would have made Blade sick again, if there had been anything left inside him. As it was, he only shook his head helplessly.

"Ah well, it'll be some time before Cayla wants her fun again. Maybe between now and then you can think of something to do about it."

CHAPTER 12.

The obvious thing to do about Cayla was to kill her. Blade thought about that all during the four weeks it took the squadron to beat its way back to Neral. It was a tedious and grueling trip, the last week spent fighting against almost continuous westerly gales which several times blew them out of sight of the island. When the squadron finally landed, too sea-tossed and weary to properly appreciate the welcome laid on for them, Blade was no nearer a solution than he had been the night the squadron sailed from its refuge.

The problems were mostly caused by Cayla's own sharp wits. She had noticed more of Blade's reaction to the duel than he would have had her notice. The night afterwards she calmly informed him that of course he could kill her any time he wished; and perhaps he would get away with it. She was not so popular among the Captains that they would really exert themselves to catch her murderer, particularly if the circ.u.mstances were uncertain. But she did have a respectable number of friends and allies, and these would ensure that Alixa and Brora both died soon and unpleasantly, whatever happened to her. And she might challenge Alixa and put her down in a way that would make Dynera's death look pleasurable by comparison, if she judged Blade was plotting against her.

If Blade had only had himself to worry about, he would probably have run Cayla through on the spot and taken his chances. But he could not and would not throw away his companions' lives along with his own, so he held his hand and his peace. But he made no pretense of being able to share Cayla's bed after the duel. He would much rather have slept in a nest of cobras.

When they finally reached Neral the situation worsened. Perhaps Cayla had not been popular before, but now that she had conceived and carried out the most daring and profitable raid the Brotherhood had to its credit for the past three years, her stock soared. So did Blade's, fortunately. He had, after all, fought heroically and led the counterattack on the Tramian infantry that had saved the whole expedition. But the lion's share of the glory was Cayla's, and Blade saw far too many of those who had previously avoided her begin to cl.u.s.ter around what they saw to be a rising star in the Brotherhood. She was now much closer to being una.s.sailable.

Blade had ample leisure to contemplate this fact, because winter gales were closing the seas to honest commerce and pirate raiding alike. It had been more than two generations since the half-legendary Dystronos of Cral led five s.h.i.+ps across the winter seas in the teeth of wind and snow to plunder s.h.i.+pping in the very High Port of Royth itself. On the occasional calm and clear day, s.h.i.+ps would indeed make their way out through the pa.s.sage to exercise their men at the oars and help them keep their sea legs, but none went out of sight of Neral. Even with this precaution, two galleys attempting a night pa.s.sage of the reefs to avoid being caught at sea by a gale took the ground and were pounded to pieces, drowning better than a hundred and fifty men.

Many of the pirates spent their winters in debauchery, spending whatever gains they had made during the season of raiding and inevitably ending up the next spring penniless, if not in fact many silver bits in debt to the brothels and shopkeepers. Blade, however, spent his enforced leisure maintaining his proficiency in arms, memorizing charts and sailing instructions for all parts of the Ocean, and, very rarely, roaming about the northern end of the island. He had to face the fact that the only way to safety for him and his companions lay in escaping from Neral entirely. By the time spring came, he meant to be ready.

And it was important for more than the three of them to make their escape in spring. All the evidence he had gathered and put down in a secret set of ciphered notes told him that Indhios' plots were going to come to fruition next spring or summer as well, and he had to reach Royth and carry the warning, somehow.

Seeing that sharing her bed revolted him, and recognizing that s.e.x had never given her much influence over him in any case, Cayla consented to his taking quarters of his own. He was not yet ranked as a Captain (although she planned to have him promoted in time for the spring voyages), so Blade took a three-room apartment in one of the more expensive boarding houses on the terrace below. Cayla visited him occasionally to take a cup of hot wine and enlarge on her plans for the future.

At other times, Alixa came to him. It had come hard for this sensual young n.o.blewoman to sleep alone when Cayla had dragged Blade off for her own purposes and pleasures. Now, wasting no further time in jealousy after her initial flare of rage, she returned to him, visiting his quarters as often as she could find Brora, Tuabir or some trustworthy sailor chosen by them to escort her through the dark streets of the pirate city. She never stayed more than an hour or two, for Blade was by no means certain that Cayla was not in fact giving both him and Alixa enough rope to hang themselves. Their lovemaking was intense and sometimes exultant, but always crammed into too short a time for either of them. Gradually, Blade came to wonder whether Cayla had in fact abandoned her claims to him as her Companion.

Then came a night in the dead of winter. "Dead" indeed-as Blade stood at the window and stared out into the darkness, it seemed that the whole world was in fact dead. No moon, no stars, no wind or snow, nothing moving below in the street. Only a single yellow puddle of light from a lamp hanging from someone's front door. It would be easy for Alixa to reach the house, and once she was there they would finally have the whole night ahead of them. Blade was much too l.u.s.ty a man to tolerate having his pleasures in rationed installments.

He was so busy antic.i.p.ating his pleasures that he almost ignored the knock on the door. Even then, he had to move down the stairs cat-footed to avoid waking the other mates and factors and shopkeepers who shared the house. Opening the door, he saw Alixa's face grinning into his from her blue hood, and behind her Brora, his face strained, his eyes roving watchfully, frost on his brown beard and hair. He took Alixa's outstretched hand and led her up the stairs, Brora following at a discreet distance, his hand never far from the hilt of his cutla.s.s.

She was urgent and tumultuous in her love-making that night, more than ever before, gasping and crying out with each climax, and so stimulating Blade every time she felt him flagging that he reached new heights of his own. In time, it was sheer exhaustion that led them to collapse, limp and sweat-glazed, amid the tangled sheets.

Sleep was just beginning to drift over Blade when he heard a rattle and a bang from above. Somebody or something was climbing down through the roof hatch. He reached out of bed to pluck his sword from the floor and his dagger from its boot sheath, but did not light the lantern, murmuring to Alixa, "Don't move."

Feet sounded on the attic stair. He heard Brora draw his sword and step in front of the door; then the attic door burst open with a crash. A moment later the door into his own rooms flew inward off its hinges. Before it had hit the floor, Blade had rolled out of the bed on the far side, so that he was invisible from the doorway.

Cayla charged into the room with a cutla.s.s flas.h.i.+ng in one hand and her whip cracking in the other. "Wh.o.r.e!" she shouted, with a note of indignation in her voice that sounded grotesquely false to Blade. "Bed with my Companion, will you? Accept my Challenge, or die here in your foul bed!" Alixa played her part well, moaning and s.h.i.+vering wordlessly as she clasped the bedclothes about her. Cayla darted across the room, raising her whip, and as she did so Blade sprang to his feet and slashed at her in a deadly overhand stroke that should have split her like a salted fish.

Instead, his feet tangled in the fallen blankets as he rose, throwing him off balance, and the sword whistled harmlessly down past Cayla and hit the floor with a tremendous clang. Cayla sprang back, and Esdros, with more courage than craft, charged in. Blade had only to raise the sword point and let the young Captain spit himself on it. He went down with a gurgle and a scream. Blade jerked his sword free and turned to face Cayla.

But that lady saw no place in her plans for a fair duel against Blade. She backed out of the door at almost the same furious pace at which she had entered, Blade hard after her. As he charged through the door the two bravos who had Brora trapped in an angle of the corridor turned to face him, not fast enough to do themselves much good but fast enough for their mistress to vanish down the main stairs. Blade's ma.s.sive fist smashed into the face of the first bravo, hurling him backward onto the other's sword. Both went down, and before either could rise Brora had thrust twice, and both stayed down.

"Master Blahyd," said the sailor, "I think we were best thinkin' to take our leave." Blade nodded.

"Brora, go and barricade the stairs to keep anyone from coming up until we're ready to leave." He darted into the bedroom. "Alixa. Put on some warm clothing and get stout shoes and a dagger." She scrambled out of bed and began rummaging through his clothing chests. As tall as she was, she could wear his clothing with little difficulty.

A new uproar of feet and voices sounded on the stairs below as the rest of the tenants woke up and took notice. Blade heard Brora's voice bellowing, "An affair of the Brotherhood! Send for a Captain Councillor!" Sending for one of the Brotherhood's ruling body as a trouble-shooter would effectively keep prying eyes and ears busy for a few more minutes. Blade joined Alixa at the clothing chests and began his own hurried dressing.

They left the house through the same roof hatch that Cayla and her party had used, dropping down to the street level as soon as they had reached the next roof. Once the alarm was given, anybody seen clambering across the rooftops would be a marked man, and they could move faster along the streets anyway. So far there was no sign of alarm-the streets were as dark and silent as before.

Blade gambled on their having at least a few minutes before the hunt began and took the most direct route up the slope to the road that led toward the Mountain. If they pa.s.sed safely over the Mountain and reached the northern end of the island, they would at least have room to run and dodge.

They pa.s.sed the sentries at the entrance to the Captains' street without difficulty, walking slowly, like any three sailors returning from a carousal. Blade and Alixa kept their hoods pulled low over their faces, which were better known than Brora's.

A long flight of stone stairs led from the Captains' street up the slope to the rim of the great bowl and the road around its rim. As they climbed higher, the great sullen dark ma.s.s of the port and harbor spread out farther and farther below them, faint yellow and red specks marking where a party or dockyard work was going on late.

They were more than two-thirds of the way up the stairs when suddenly half a dozen smoky orange fires began spitting sparks in the darkness below, and twenty furiously beaten gongs began to clamor. It became a greater effort than before to hold to walking pace, but all the more important. They still had to get past the sentries at the top of the stairs, a least, while attracting a minimum of attention.

There were four of the sentries, looking glum, weary, and chilled to the bone. Blade nodded casually to them as he climbed up on the level, but was rewarded by a stiff nod from the leader.

"Hold, sirs."

"Eh?" Pretend to be drunk, and hope they'll, think it too much trouble to start an interrogation.

"The alarm's gone. n.o.body gets past here without the word of a Captain."

"Ah-um?"

"Sorry, sirs. Don't know what's happened, probably nothing, but-" breaking off suddenly as Alixa's hood slipped off her face. He wasted a fatal second staring, just long enough for Blade and Brora to whip out sword and cutla.s.s and ram both into his chest. He crumpled, rolled over the top step, and kept on rolling.

Blade and Brora were too busy disposing of the other three to watch his progress down into the darkness. Two they chopped down with little effort; the third defended himself for a moment, then dropped his weapon and ran screaming off into the darkness. By the mercy of Drukor whoever was watching over them-he ran away from the Mountain and its guardposts. If he had run the other way-Blade shuddered at the notion of trying to climb over the bare rock ridges of the Mountain to avoid squads of alerted sentries at the pa.s.ses.

Now the thing to do was to make as much noise as possible, but try to make it the sort of noise the guards would be expecting. Blade threw his hood back and broke into a run, Brora and Alixa at his heels, all three shouting at the top of their lungs, "Haro, hallo, hi! Guard, guard, turn out the guard!"

It was a good mile and a half, mostly uphill, to the gate at the first pa.s.s. All three of them were half-winded by the time they reached it. Blade saw as they approached that the guard had certainly turned out. But they held their pikes and cutla.s.ses casually, hardly imagining that these three figures running plainly up to them and bellowing like bulls could be trying to avoid them.

The guard commander recognized Blade, but merely greeted him.

"What trouble, Master Blahyd?"

"Great trouble! Some villains have slain all four of the guards at the top of the main stairs!"

"Druk be merciful."

"Yes, there's deadly work a-foot tonight. I've been ordered to head through the pa.s.s and set up a guard on that side with the sentries from the northern posts."

"Wise." The guard commander paused for a moment, then said, "Would you like to take three of our horses? We keep them for the quick sending of messages. This seems full as important."

Blade almost laughed out loud at the notion of their getting, literally, a free ride over the pa.s.s, then nodded. Two of the horses were already saddled and bridled. Blade ordered Brora and Alixa to mount and be ready to move at his signal, while he himself waited, showing impatience and continuously expecting somebody to come yelling up the road to tell the guard commander the truth.

Two small figures indeed had appeared at the far end of the road by the time the third horse was ready. Blade sailed into the saddle without touching the stirrups and threw the guard captain a gold piece. "For you and your men, for your service to the Brotherhood tonight!"

"Thank you, Master Blahyd. And may Druk be with you tonight!"

As they cantered off toward the pa.s.s, Brora turned in his saddle and grinned to Blade as he said, "Druk had better be w'him, Master, when they finds out who he've let through and e'en sped on their way!" Blade nodded, then turned to concentrate on keeping his horse moving along the road.

Although twisting and narrow, the road was well surfaced, and in less than an hour they were eight good miles north of the pa.s.s and entering the forest belt. Blade led the others off the road into the forest to let the horses breathe and told them of their situation.

"We're ill-equipped, compared to what I had planned. What's worse, we're going to have to risk the voyage to Royth in the teeth of the winter gales. But we should be able to raid a villa or two for food and clothing, then head for the coast and trust to Druk."

"Aye, trust that he'll make us a miracle! Have ye thought, Master Blahyd, that all the yachts most likely be pulled up out o' t' sea for the winter? And if we be lucky and get to sea, whyfore make for Royth? W' the winds at our backs, we might reach Mardha in half the time and w' half the danger."

Blade had considered and rejected that very idea. "Because we also have to warn somebody in Royth about what the pirates are planning."

Brora nodded and Alixa nodded too, but also frowned.

"Well and good. But if that is what you plan to do when you reach Royth, remember that you will find Count Indhios almost as deadly an enemy as the pirates."

"We'll worry about that when we land in Royth," said Blade. He had learned that one of the surest roads to disaster in a tough situation was exhausting yourself with premature worrying. "And Indhios at least is only one man, not fifty thousand." He dug his heels into his horse and led his companions back onto the road.

They were not challenged once during the night, by a miracle. In fact, they might have been riding across an island of the dead, except for the lights they saw gleaming in occasional slave buts. Toward morning, and toward the far northern end of the island, they sought out the deepest and gloomiest patch of forest they could find, tethered the horses, rolled themselves up as warmly as possible in their cloaks, and slept for a few hours.

Blade was awakened by the sound of horses pa.s.sing on the road. Although he knew the hard-frozen ground would retain little or no trace of their own pa.s.sage, still he gripped his sword and lay motionless, listening until he heard the horses move on. There was no need to tell his companions what that sound meant. The hunt was on. They would have to abandon their own horses and from here on rely on stealth.

If there were any yachts in the water now, they would most likely be on the eastern or leeward side of Neral, sheltered from the westerly gales that could move boulders the size of houses and leave frozen spray on rocks three hundred feet above the water. As soon as it was dark, they moved out, all three m.u.f.fled to the eyes, Blade and Brora with their hands never far from their weapons.

Twice they had to scuttle hastily for cover as mounted patrols clattered past. Once they nearly blundered into view of the sentries walking a slow beat around a cl.u.s.ter of slave huts almost concealed in a grove. Several times they stumbled over roots or dead branches and fell painfully on the frozen ground. Never did they find a boat that was both in the water and in Brora's opinion st.u.r.dy enough to have any hope of carrying them to Royth.

Toward morning it began to snow. Blade realized that they would have to get food before they could resume the search. The long hours in the cold had Alixa worn and pale, and both Blade and Brora were feeling the strain also. But approaching any inhabited place meant risking discovery and proclaiming their presence to the searching patrols. Yet they had no choice. With rumbling bellies they fell to the ground and wrapped themselves up once more for their day's fitful sleep.