Worse might be the use found for them. Carina's healing gifts would be dismissed because she was a woman, making her useless for healing men. While she might assist in childbirth, the Nargi's penchant for multiple wives made surviving that ordeal less urgent. He closed his eyes, trying to forget what he had seen happen to other women captives.
Carroway's lot was hardly better than Carina's in Nargi hands. Bards were outlawed, as were the taverns and gaming rooms where they tended to work. Bards also carried news, something the Nargi priests liked to control themselves. Artists, unless dedicated to the Crone cult, were viewed witn suspicion.
Going after Carina and Carroway would be the easy part, Vahanian thought, dragging his small raft up on the bank and hiding it in the bushes. Getting back out was the challenge.
Vahanian made one quick pass up and down the bank, looking for signs of his companions. Upstream, almost across the river from where he and the others had come ashore, he found a sodden leather pouch like the ones Carina carried on her belt. There were boot prints on the muddy shore. The river plants bore signs of a recent struggle, with broken and trampled branches lying along a freshly made path.
Vahanian had the sudden feeling that something was watching him, and he glanced up sharply, sword already in hand. On the path ahead of him stood a large gray wolf, a mature male, well-fed and strong. Vahanian froze as the creature's blue eyes fixed him with a knowing stare. To his surprise the animal made no sign of aggression, neither baring its teeth nor advancing. Instead it sat down, doglike, and wagged its tail. Then it jumped to its feet, trotted down the path, and returned, tilting its head at a curious angle as if to ask a question.
Sakwi, Vahanian thought. Dark Lady take my soul. No wolf alive acts like that, unless it's been sent. Damnedest thing I've ever seen. He took a hesitant step forward. The wolf seemed to approve, bounding ahead and then returning, signaling him to follow.
"I don't know where you're taking me, but I'm hoping it's to the camp." He stopped and shook his head. "Wolves. I'm talking to wolves. Too damn much time around Spook." The wolf waited impatiently for him and he followed, closely watching the woods around them for danger.
Twice, the wolf laid its ears back and growled a warning, in time for Vahanian to hide himself in the thicket as Nargi soldiers passed by. Overhead the owls hooted an "all clear" when the danger passed. His guide kept its speed and choice of pathways to those Vahanian could follow with relative ease. If wolves are this smart, Vahanian thought, no wonder they're so damn hard to shake once they're hungry for you.
He sheathed his sword in favor of a small crossbow, which worked better than a sword in tight spaces. Vahanian and the wolf traveled for at least half a candlemark, and Vahanian noted that the wolf was leading him to high ground, taking a wide circle around a center point. Finally, after scrambling up a hillside muddy from recent downpours, the wolf led him to a protected spot on an outcropping with a view of the land below. It waited, as if inviting Vahanian to come and look.
Below them was the Nargi camp. It was only a small camp, but home to at least two or three dozen Nargi soldiers. From the permanence of its structures, the round, canvas-covered baled straw constructs the Nargi favored, Vahanian surmised that the camp was a river garrison. Probably making sure none of the "faithful" cross over to Jolie's place.
The wolf sprang to its feet and its ears pricked, listening intently. It moved a few paces to its right, indicating a path, then dashed back, urging Vahanian to move. Vahanian needed no additional prompting. He crouched and followed the wolf as quickly as he could without noise. A heartbeat later, two Nargi soldiers came into view, patrolling the perimeter. Vahanian waited in the shadows, watching as one of the soldiers noted his tracks on the wet ground. But before the soldier could take a step, Vahanian heard a wolf howl, and realized that his guide was no longer behind him.
The Nargi stopped abruptly, glancing around nervously. The wolf howled once more and was answered by another, summoning the pack. The lead Nargi made a brusque command and motioned the other to follow him, beating a quick retreat. Vahanian breathed a sigh of relief and looked up to see his guide wolf padding back toward him. That's the most satisfied looking wolf I've ever seen. He resisted the urge to laugh.
"Thank you," he said in a hushed voice. The wolf cocked its head once more and then padded off, making no invitation for Vahanian to follow. Vahanian watched his guide leave, and then turned his attention to the camp below once more, memorizing the layout and guessing at the purpose of each circular structure.
The horses were tethered together at one side of the encampment, while a trench at the other side marked the latrine. A cluster of structures were barracks; a larger, separate one was the captain's quarters. A cook fire in front of another building indicated a kitchen. In the center was the practice ground with its quintain, hard used from many practices. Vahanian caught his breath. Next to the practice ground, just beyond the barracks, was a sturdy cage made of hewn logs. Even from this distance, he could make out the two figures imprisoned inside.
Still, Vahanian thought, not impossible, as he surveyed the layout. If the horses didn't scare, he might be able to approach from that side, along the barracks' walls, shielded partially from view. But the cage was out in the open. Any approach would require a dive across an open area, and exposure for as long as it took to open it. Not good. Resolute, he started a cautious descent.
Fog began to roll in half way down the slope. He watched it rise from nowhere, slipping toward the camp, thicker and thicker until the fires twinkled in its haze. Sakwi, he thought. Has to be. Nothing natural brews up a fog like that so fast. A little more assistance like this and I might just get to like spooks after all.
Vahanian waited more than a candlemark until the camp's priest rang the bells for late prayer, and the guards made their devotion to the Crone. By then, Vahanian had crept close enough to hear the prayers. He took a place at the very back of the assemblage, his face hidden by the uniform's scarf. The words of the prayer came back with eerie ease, something he had heard every night of his long captivity. His stomach knotted as he mouthed them with the others. Finally, the devotion made, the soldiers broke formation. Vahanian slipped away, getting as close to the cage as he dared before the last of the fires were banked and the lamps in the barracks went dark.
From here, he had a clear view of the stockade. Inside it, Carina and Carroway huddled together against the cold, still in the muddied clothing they wore when they went into the river. Vahanian could glimpse no blanket or shelter to give any comfort to the captives. His anger, already white hot, grew stronger still. His finger twitched on the trigger of his crossbow.
"You there," said a voice behind him. "Why are you out of barracks?"
Vahanian moved the hand with the small bow down and into the folds of his cloak before he turned. "Going to the latrine, sir," he replied in perfect Nargi.
"I gave no such permission."
"My abject pardon," Vahanian replied, giving the deep bow Nargi custom required.
"What is that in your hand?" the Nargi lieutenant asked, stepping closer. His eyes widened. "That's not a standard bow." Vahanian stepped into his path, raising the bow against the lieutenant's chest. The arrow discharged soundlessly, and the astonished lieutenant sagged against him.
"Useful for hunting vermin," Vahanian said against his ear, supporting the dying man. He steeled himself not to turn as footsteps approached.