easily become lost. But sooner or later the guards would have found the dead mare, the signs, the Sarkondish camp.
Not the Sarkonds themselves. Obviously the Bone Hunters had evaded detection despite their sleeping mounts, or Atheris would not be sensing them now. Perhaps they had mounts again, perhaps they were on foot; somehow, in any event, they’d managed to make enough progress to stay within Atheris’s range, whatever that might be, despite the Mare’s Sleep, despite the spell on Tajin, despite Atheris’s magical concealment.
But meanwhile, back in Bregond, the guards would have found Tajin’s trail and that of the Bone Hunters overlaying it, and that trail led directly into Sarkond itself. Unless they found Tajin and read the message on his saddle, there would be only one conclusion they could draw.
That Peri had been captured by Sarkonds.
And that meant that in Bregond at least, Peri was dead—if not killed in battle by the Sarkonds, then, as custom required, honorably dead by her own hand. Her friends and kin would mourn her as dead. If she returned she could expect no welcome, no help, no acknowledgment whatsoever. She’d be an outcast even to Danber, and Mahdha, who whispered her secrets to the clans and carried the spirits of the honored dead on her wings, would forget her name. Even Peri’s mother, despite the years she’d lived in Agrond, would never wholeheartedly welcome her daughter home.
No, Peri simply had to hope that Tajin would make it past the Bone Hunters. Someone would find him, read the message, get word either to Aunt Kairi or Danber. Then they’d only think Peri had run from her responsibilities—disgraceful but not disastrous. Unfortunately her exploits were not quite heroic enough to get her out of trouble, but at least she’d be able to return to Bregond. Life as Kairi’s Heir, and later as High Lady, was no prospect she relished, but anything was better than total exile from the land she considered her home.
And she’d risked everything to rescue a Sarkond.
That thought piqued Peri’s curiosity, but just as she was about to wake Atheris and ask him about it, the wagon slowed, stopped. Cautiously Peri peered out under the edge of the wagon cloth and immediately saw the reason. The sun was low in the sky, almost down. The merchants were camping for the evening.
“That’s it,” she murmured.
“What?” Atheris said softly, making Peri jump. The Sarkond was awake and watching her anxiously.
“I have got,” she said between clenched teeth, “to piss. Not tomorrow, not after midnight when everybody’s gone tosleep. Right now.”
Atheris gazed at her for a moment, his lips twitching suspiciously, then picked up a nearly empty waterskin. He quickly swallowed the last of the water and mutely handed her the empty skin.
Despite her foul mood, Peri had to stifle a laugh of her own at the waterskin and the look Atheris had given her; but a laugh would have brought the guards down on them, and more importantly, would have had very negative consequences on her overfull bladder. Instead she applied her wits and her knife to the problem, widening the opening so she could use the waterskin. Thankfully Atheris turned away without her having to ask—Mahdha bless me, he’s got good manners for a Sarkond—and when she finished, she just as silently handed him the skin and turned her back. When he was done she tied the skin off tightly and set it aside. Tomorrow, when she was certain nobody would see, she’d empty it out the back of the wagon.
“How’s your side?” she whispered.
Atheris pulled up the edge of his tunic and touched the dressing, raised his eyebrow, and pressed a little harder.
“Very good indeed,” he said softly. “I wondered why you did not simply use a spell, but then I realized that a mage in the caravan might have detected it, and perhaps you were wise to conserve your energies.”
Peri grimaced.
“I didn’t use a spell,” she murmured,
Not the Sarkonds themselves. Obviously the Bone Hunters had evaded detection despite their sleeping mounts, or Atheris would not be sensing them now. Perhaps they had mounts again, perhaps they were on foot; somehow, in any event, they’d managed to make enough progress to stay within Atheris’s range, whatever that might be, despite the Mare’s Sleep, despite the spell on Tajin, despite Atheris’s magical concealment.
But meanwhile, back in Bregond, the guards would have found Tajin’s trail and that of the Bone Hunters overlaying it, and that trail led directly into Sarkond itself. Unless they found Tajin and read the message on his saddle, there would be only one conclusion they could draw.
That Peri had been captured by Sarkonds.
And that meant that in Bregond at least, Peri was dead—if not killed in battle by the Sarkonds, then, as custom required, honorably dead by her own hand. Her friends and kin would mourn her as dead. If she returned she could expect no welcome, no help, no acknowledgment whatsoever. She’d be an outcast even to Danber, and Mahdha, who whispered her secrets to the clans and carried the spirits of the honored dead on her wings, would forget her name. Even Peri’s mother, despite the years she’d lived in Agrond, would never wholeheartedly welcome her daughter home.
No, Peri simply had to hope that Tajin would make it past the Bone Hunters. Someone would find him, read the message, get word either to Aunt Kairi or Danber. Then they’d only think Peri had run from her responsibilities—disgraceful but not disastrous. Unfortunately her exploits were not quite heroic enough to get her out of trouble, but at least she’d be able to return to Bregond. Life as Kairi’s Heir, and later as High Lady, was no prospect she relished, but anything was better than total exile from the land she considered her home.
And she’d risked everything to rescue a Sarkond.
That thought piqued Peri’s curiosity, but just as she was about to wake Atheris and ask him about it, the wagon slowed, stopped. Cautiously Peri peered out under the edge of the wagon cloth and immediately saw the reason. The sun was low in the sky, almost down. The merchants were camping for the evening.
“That’s it,” she murmured.
“What?” Atheris said softly, making Peri jump. The Sarkond was awake and watching her anxiously.
“I have got,” she said between clenched teeth, “to piss. Not tomorrow, not after midnight when everybody’s gone tosleep. Right now.”
Atheris gazed at her for a moment, his lips twitching suspiciously, then picked up a nearly empty waterskin. He quickly swallowed the last of the water and mutely handed her the empty skin.
Despite her foul mood, Peri had to stifle a laugh of her own at the waterskin and the look Atheris had given her; but a laugh would have brought the guards down on them, and more importantly, would have had very negative consequences on her overfull bladder. Instead she applied her wits and her knife to the problem, widening the opening so she could use the waterskin. Thankfully Atheris turned away without her having to ask—Mahdha bless me, he’s got good manners for a Sarkond—and when she finished, she just as silently handed him the skin and turned her back. When he was done she tied the skin off tightly and set it aside. Tomorrow, when she was certain nobody would see, she’d empty it out the back of the wagon.
“How’s your side?” she whispered.
Atheris pulled up the edge of his tunic and touched the dressing, raised his eyebrow, and pressed a little harder.
“Very good indeed,” he said softly. “I wondered why you did not simply use a spell, but then I realized that a mage in the caravan might have detected it, and perhaps you were wise to conserve your energies.”
Peri grimaced.
“I didn’t use a spell,” she murmured,
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