Kel fought yawns as she followed Raoul to the inn where he, Buri, and Flyndan had been given rooms. While the inn was largely intact, the scent of smoke filled it from cellar to garret. Kel didn’t care; neither did the others, she suspected. The men and Buri went to their rooms immediately. As Raoul’s squire Kel opened her bedroll in front of his door. The sparrows protested this odd way to sleep, but found places around Jump. Kel was pulling off her boots when someone down the hall whispered, “Pst!”
She looked up, squinting. The wall lamp was nearly out of oil; its flame barely cast any light.
“Pst!”
Kel unsheathed her sword and walked toward the noise, stockinged feet silent on the wooden boards. If she had to go out of sight of Raoul’s door, she would wake him. This could be an attempt to draw her off, an attempt on his life.
The attempt was only Lerant, standing at the top of the stairs. “What do you want?” Kel demanded, in no mood to be polite. She wanted to sleep.
He glared at her. Kel turned to go back to her bed.
“No, wait!” he whispered.
She turned back as she considered smacking him with the flat of her sword to teach him respect. Such thoughts only told her how bone-tired she was. Normally the idea would never occur to her.
“Why didn’t you tell?” Lerant kept his voice low.
“Tell what?” she asked, her own voice barely audible.
“Come on. I heard Osbern set you straight. You didn’t tell him who steered you to the packs, or he’d've had me up before Flyn.”
“You couldn’t ask in the morning?” she demanded, cross.
“I want to know now!”
Kel sighed. “I don’t tell on people,” she said. “Good night.” She walked back down the hall, sheathed her sword, and crawled into bed.
four
OWLSHOLLOW
If the Haresfield renegades were new to forest robbery, the centaurs and other humans with the band were not. Lord Wyldon had taught the pages much about tracking, but the next two weeks saw Kel’s education expand ferociously. Whenever the robbers could mask their trail by walking in streams and over rocks, they did. It reached the point where the hunters moaned at a glimpse of water or a patch of stone. The robbers often split into five or six groups to confuse their trackers.
The centaurs used magic to hide their passage and their appearance in scrying crystals. They buried or hid loot so it wouldn’t slow them down. The Riders found two caches; Dom’s squad found a third. Everyone knew more was hidden away, because the bandits attacked every village they could, no matter how slim the pickings. In one village they sold loot from other raids, taking it back with everything else of value when they struck that night.
Clean clothes became a delirium dream. Kel washed hers cold and wore them wet, thanking the gods she didn’t get sick easily. She learned why Raoul had said she would do few of the things that squires normally did for knights. She barely had the strength to care for their mounts and weapons. Waiting on him as he ate and putting out his clothes for the morning would be ridiculous.
On the ninth day they ran out of the lotion that repelled insects. Lord Raoul growled under his breath and sent a party to the palace for supplies, for Riders and centaurs as well as Third Company.
By and large Kel thought the centaurs who hunted with them were decent people. They worked hard and never complained.
“Rogues make us look bad,” Iriseyes, their female leader, told Dom, Qasim, and Kel one night as they gnawed stale flatbread. “Enough two-leggers call us animals as is, without this crowd making it worse. We told Graystreak he ought to cull Maresgift, Jealousani, Edkedy, and their crowd, but he wouldn’t do it. I suppose it’s hard to cull your own brother.”
“Cull?” Dom asked.
“Kill ‘em,” Iriseyes said. “Herdmasters like Graystreak can do it. You don’t want bad blood in the herd, particularly not in the slaves. It ruins the slaves, so you
She looked up, squinting. The wall lamp was nearly out of oil; its flame barely cast any light.
“Pst!”
Kel unsheathed her sword and walked toward the noise, stockinged feet silent on the wooden boards. If she had to go out of sight of Raoul’s door, she would wake him. This could be an attempt to draw her off, an attempt on his life.
The attempt was only Lerant, standing at the top of the stairs. “What do you want?” Kel demanded, in no mood to be polite. She wanted to sleep.
He glared at her. Kel turned to go back to her bed.
“No, wait!” he whispered.
She turned back as she considered smacking him with the flat of her sword to teach him respect. Such thoughts only told her how bone-tired she was. Normally the idea would never occur to her.
“Why didn’t you tell?” Lerant kept his voice low.
“Tell what?” she asked, her own voice barely audible.
“Come on. I heard Osbern set you straight. You didn’t tell him who steered you to the packs, or he’d've had me up before Flyn.”
“You couldn’t ask in the morning?” she demanded, cross.
“I want to know now!”
Kel sighed. “I don’t tell on people,” she said. “Good night.” She walked back down the hall, sheathed her sword, and crawled into bed.
four
OWLSHOLLOW
If the Haresfield renegades were new to forest robbery, the centaurs and other humans with the band were not. Lord Wyldon had taught the pages much about tracking, but the next two weeks saw Kel’s education expand ferociously. Whenever the robbers could mask their trail by walking in streams and over rocks, they did. It reached the point where the hunters moaned at a glimpse of water or a patch of stone. The robbers often split into five or six groups to confuse their trackers.
The centaurs used magic to hide their passage and their appearance in scrying crystals. They buried or hid loot so it wouldn’t slow them down. The Riders found two caches; Dom’s squad found a third. Everyone knew more was hidden away, because the bandits attacked every village they could, no matter how slim the pickings. In one village they sold loot from other raids, taking it back with everything else of value when they struck that night.
Clean clothes became a delirium dream. Kel washed hers cold and wore them wet, thanking the gods she didn’t get sick easily. She learned why Raoul had said she would do few of the things that squires normally did for knights. She barely had the strength to care for their mounts and weapons. Waiting on him as he ate and putting out his clothes for the morning would be ridiculous.
On the ninth day they ran out of the lotion that repelled insects. Lord Raoul growled under his breath and sent a party to the palace for supplies, for Riders and centaurs as well as Third Company.
By and large Kel thought the centaurs who hunted with them were decent people. They worked hard and never complained.
“Rogues make us look bad,” Iriseyes, their female leader, told Dom, Qasim, and Kel one night as they gnawed stale flatbread. “Enough two-leggers call us animals as is, without this crowd making it worse. We told Graystreak he ought to cull Maresgift, Jealousani, Edkedy, and their crowd, but he wouldn’t do it. I suppose it’s hard to cull your own brother.”
“Cull?” Dom asked.
“Kill ‘em,” Iriseyes said. “Herdmasters like Graystreak can do it. You don’t want bad blood in the herd, particularly not in the slaves. It ruins the slaves, so you
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