The call of the Racha bird told Dhulyn that Cullen had been able to leave Gotterang unmolested and reach Yerloa’s Spring. The Cloudman himself was nowhere visible, however, only Dal-eDal, Karlyn-Tan and two guards, pale-faced strangers alike enough to be brothers. All four wore dusty clothing in the Tenebro colors of black and teal. The breeze penetrating into the small copse of trees promised a warm day, bringing smells of damp earth, and, from somewhere nearby, the scent of apple blossoms.
Karlyn-Tan was evidently looking out for her, and as Dhulyn had made no attempt to hide her approach, stood as soon as she came into view. He held his place, however, making no move toward her. She smiled in the darkness. No one’s fool, she thought. The less movement, the less noise.
“Your Cloudman has not come, Dhulyn Wolfshead.” Dal-eDal’s was the hunter’s soft murmur. “Will you take one of our horses, or ride double with one of us?”
Dhulyn smiled her wolf’s smile and there was evidently enough light to see by, for the Tenebro lord backed off a pace.
“Cullen,” Dhulyn called softly. Dal-eDal snapped his head around and one of the two brothers swore as Cullen stepped out from cover so thin even Dhulyn had trouble believing he’d hidden there.
“Your horse is on the far side of the spring, Dhulyn Wolfshead,” Cullen said. “Disha tells me no one is near.”
Dhulyn measured the light in the east with a practiced eye. They were little more than an hour from Gotterang’s main gate, enough time, once she’d fetched Bloodbone, to finish her preparations.
She was leaning over from her saddle, practically upside down, tying her bent left leg to the saddle leathers in such a way that she looked safely trussed up, when Karlyn-Tan came to her, soft cloth bag in his hand.
“Well, Karlyn-Tan,” she said, before he had a chance to speak. “Once again, we meet under strange circumstances.”
“Once again, Dhulyn Wolfshead, you seem to be bound.” He answered her smile with a careful one of his own. His faded more quickly. “I’m afraid this time you’ll be blindfolded as well. I regret the necessity, Wolfshead,” he said, as he handed her up the cloth hood. “But best to put this on well before we get to the gates.”
Dhulyn shrugged. “I thank you for your concern, Karlyn-Tan, but a blindfold won’t unnerve me at all. We’ve had occasion, Parno Lionsmane and I, to learn how to fight blindfolded.”
“I’d like to hear that story.”
“If we live, I’ll be sure to tell you.” She looked over her shoulder. “Pull on that thong, would you? It needs to be tighter.”
“It seems far too tight already,” he said, though he reached to comply. “You are not meant to be truly bound.”
For answer Dhulyn thrust downward with her left leg, heel out as if she were kicking someone in the throat, and all the bindings that held her leg fast to her saddle fell away as if by magic.
“Any more observations, Karlyn, and we shall miss our appointment.”
Fanryn looked around from staring out the window at Swordsmiths Street and stepped over to help Alkoryn Pantherclaw strap the last packing case shut.
“That will be the lot of them,” he whispered, the light from the windows picking out every line and wrinkle on a face suddenly old.
Fanryn straightened up and looked over her Senior with her surgeon’s eye. Like his namesake the panther, Alkoryn had been pacing the room since Dhulyn had left before midnight, and the grayness around his mouth and eyes testified to that. She picked up a glazed jug of ganje from its place on the strangely naked worktable, poured out a cup, and placed it in front of Alkoryn’s customary seat.
“I was surprised when the Racha man offered to go with Dhulyn,” she said. “From the look on his face when he learned Dhulyn’s a Seer, I don’t think he’ll be parted from her until all this is over.”
“The Clouds have claimed since the times of the Caids that the Marked are under their personal protection. The fact that until recently the Marked needed no special protection has never changed their attitude.”
Fanryn picked up her own mug of ganje and tossed it off in one swallow. She made a face.
“Cold,” she said.
Before Alkoryn could do more than smile, Thionan came striding in, Oswin Battlehammer, one of the two Semlorian Brothers in Gotterang, in tow. “I hope this is the last,” she said, tapping the travel case with the side of her foot. “We’re starting to run out of room.”
“It is. As soon as you have it safely stowed, Parno will want us in the common room.”
Thionan glanced at the window, checking the amount of light showing above the rooftops. “They’ll still be in the copse. We’ve got the better part of an hour before they come through the gate, and at least two until they arrive at the Carnelian Dome.”
“When you reach my age,” Alkoryn said, “you’ll realize that you can never have too much time.”
Fanryn glanced at her Partner over their Senior Brother’s head. She knew Thionan’s grin was a mirror for her own. And she knew why. Neither of them expected to reach Alkoryn’s age.
Almost an hour later Parno stood beside Tek-aKet in the Mercenary House’s small whitewashed common room and counted over in his mind the group assembled there. Half a dozen Brothers only, including Fanryn and the two Semlorians, but not Thionan who’d gone off to watch for Dhulyn’s party to come through the north gate.
“You’ve all seen the maps,” he said. “There’s only one tricky part, so watch the walls for our marks.” Parno indicated the man leaning against the trestle table to his left. “The Tarkin and I will be first, with Jessen and Tonal of his Personal Guard. Oswin Battlehammer and Tyler Nightsky will follow next, and then the rest of you behind us by twos.” He tapped a small sand clock he’d borrowed from the kitchen. “Use this to time yourselves, we can’t afford to get bottled up. We’ll be going through the northwest passage, exiting in the Steward’s room behind the main dining hall.”
“Remind me to brick that up when all this is over,” Tek-aKet said with a smile twisted sideways. Parno waited for the laugh to finish before he went on. It wasn’t much of a joke-in fact he was sure that Tek meant every word of it-but anything helped to relieve the tension.
“Fanryn, you and Thionan-”
“If she ever gets back,” Fanryn said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.
Parno grinned. “When she gets back,” he said. “You’ll stay with Barlen Jadestar and Noshun Icehawk. Try to make it look like there’s still twenty of us here, and keep the Tarkina safe until…”
“Until you send for us,” Fanryn said. “Or until you don’t.”
“If it should be that we don’t,” the Tarkin said in a quiet voice that nevertheless reached every ear, “will you see that she reaches her sister in Berdana.”
“We’ll do it ourselves, Lord Tarkin, my Partner and I,” Fanryn said.
Instructions given, Brothers and Guards started to leave the common room, some laughing or whistling, some studying the floor with narrowed eyes as they went. Everyone reacts differently, Parno thought. It was something he’d seen before, every experienced soldier had. He saw the look on Tek-aKet’s face and smiled. Every experienced soldier. Tek looked like he didn’t know whether to be scandalized at their levity, or to laugh himself.
All thoughts of laughter vanished as Barlen Jadestar burst into the room.
“Fanryn,” Barlen said. “Come quickly, it’s Thionan.”
Parno wasn’t very far behind Fanryn as she ran down the short corridor that led to the entrance courtyard. There would be only one reason, he thought, his heart heavy, that Fanryn should come quickly. A small, selfish part of his soul sagged with relief that Barlen had not come calling for him. Still, he cursed himself when he reached the outer courtyard and found Fanryn taking Thionan into her arms, easing her Partner down onto the bench under the plum tree, and pushing Thionan’s hands away from the bloody rag she held to her chest with both hands.