Page 20 of Mastiff (Beka Cooper 3)

The ferryman spat on the ground. “If you’ve a partner and horses. Why couldn’t you have come earlier, when there were more folk crossing?”

I glared at him. “Because I wasn’t here then. And they say we mots complain!”

I saw a lantern’s approach, above the ground. Pounce? I called silently, so as not to bother the nervous cove. Is that you?

Me, and Farmer, the horses, and some fleas. Pounce’s voice came back to me. You seem to be enjoying yourself.

I snorted and went to the side of the road, where I saw a number of stones. I began to put down a trail sign that would let Tunstall know we had crossed the river on the ferry. I was almost done when Master Farmer and the horses drew up. “Trail sign?” he asked. “You don’t trust my Dog tags. My feelings are shattered. Just … shattered.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “What a folly lad you are,” I told him. “If I don’t leave it, even with Dog tags, Tunstall will worry that something’s happened to me—and to you, for that matter.”

“That’s so lovely of him,” Master Farmer told me as he slid from his horse. “And I was thinking he didn’t like me.” Sounding much more official, he turned to the local cove. “Ferryman, we need to cross sooner rather than later, I think.” Master Farmer looked at me. “I take it the scent brought Achoo to the ferry?”

“She even chose a boat,” I said, pointing. I went over to Pounce, enthroned on horseback, and scratched his ears.

“Well, let’s go,” the ferryman said. “I’d like my sleep yet tonight.”

He grumbled, of course, when we chose not the boat that was ready, but the one that held Achoo. I thought we would have to listen to him all the way across the river, but Master Farmer slipped him a silver coin. Seemingly that was all the cove wanted, because he fell silent.

The ferryman was not exactly honest about his help. Mayhap his sons were in town, but a blast on a horn brought his wife and two daughters to help row us and our horses across. All the mots had good strong arms and were far more cheerful than their man.

While they worked, I took out my map of the district around Arenaver, studying it carefully. It looked like there were very few notable roads between here and the Banas River, since none were indicated on the map. Mapmakers usually only noted roads that would take heavy wagons. There was a marsh, a sizeable one, but someone had gone to the trouble to build a bridge across it. Hills were lightly marked in several areas along the road. There were no goodsized towns between here and the Banas, either. As with roads that couldn’t take big wagons, mapmakers ignored anything smaller than a town of two thousand.

The moment we touched shore Achoo cast around only briefly before she sneezed and ran down the road.

“Achoo, tunggu!” I cried, looking about for stones.

Master Farmer, helping the ferryman’s daughters to lead the horses off the boat, saw me collecting rocks. “Trail sign? I’ll do it,” he said as a young mot fluttered her lashes at him. “I have done country Hunts before.”

I waved my consent and took off after my hound, easing into my run and holding my fastest speed until I could see Achoo clearly once more. Then I settled back into the trot I could hold for hours, if need be. I thought of our early days together, when I’d believed a couple of hours at the run was hard work, and smiled at myself. The years behind Achoo had toughened me!

I looked back. Master Farmer was gone beyond sight. He’d been keeping the horses to a walk, so I wasn’t surprised. He would catch up.

The deep woods surrounded us, filling the chilly air with the scent of pine. It was impossible to accept it was June out here. I was glad that my running would keep me warm. I held my lamp down by my hip to light the road ahead. Achoo’s coat was a pale spot in the dark. I tried to keep to the hard places in the road so I would make less noise. The odds were against any bandits out there on a night that did not follow a holiday or market day, but I preferred to give them as little warning of my approach as I could.

All that met my ears were the sounds that I expected, the ones made by owls and small creatures in the undergrowth. A doe and her fawns startled Achoo and me alike, running across the road in front of us. A raccoon, sitting on a tree limb just over my head, gave us his opinion without niceties.

My lamp did not only show me rocks and ruts in the beaten earth. On its edges I noticed traces of unshod feet and the occasional wheel track where a wagon had swerved. Now and then the smells of scummer and piss struck my nose where folk had done their business to the side of the track. I’d bet a week’s wages these leavings were those of the slave train. I stopped a couple of times to pick up bits of leather and cloth. I might need them someday, to track the slavers if we lost the trail of the prince.

I caught up with Achoo when she stopped at a stream for water. I was about to scramble down to join her when I heard several horses. I tucked my lamp in my tunic and thought to hide in the brush when I saw the light and recognized the horses.

“Wait,” Master Farmer called.

I waited, as much to tell him, “Don’t shout out here!” as to find out what was so important I couldn’t have a drink first.

He dismounted while I scolded. “You’re right. Next time I’ll wave like this.” He waved his arm broadly twice. I eyed him, not sure if he was mocking me or not, as he went to the horse that was laden with packs I didn’t recognize. “I think,” he said, undoing a set of ties, “that these contain water. And I gave it a touch as we rode, so it’s clean.” He handed a water bottle to me.

I removed the cork and was about to drink when I had a silly thought. Or it may have been silly if I was on an ordinary Hunt, but was it silly now?

“When I gave it that touch, I also checked for poisons,” Master Farmer said quietly as if he heard my thoughts. “I expected you would ask me to.”

I grimaced at the bottle in my hands. It was discomfiting to have my mind known so well by someone who was a stranger. “Good thinking,” I replied carefully. He was four years older by my near-certain guess, and I did not want to give offense by grumbling.

“Yes, it was,” he said with such good cheer that I suspected he knew exactly what was on my mind again. I glared at him, but he was staring up at the trees, innocence in every line of his body.

I snorted, and took two deep swallows of the water. It was very good. I would have hated to slow us down while I shit my tripes out because someone had dumped offal upstream—or while I died of poison or spells. I wiped my mouth on my arm. Achoo was already on the roadbed, tail wagging. I slung my pack around and took out a couple of strips of dried meat. “Pounce, do you want any?” I asked as I fed her.

I thank you, no, he replied from his seat atop the light-colored packhorse. Everything had happened so fast I didn’t even know the horses’ names. I am enjoying my ride.

“I’m wondering if we ought to wait here for Tunstall and my lady,” I said to Master Farmer.

“Let’s go on if Achoo’s up to it,” Master Farmer said. I couldn’t tell if he really meant was I up to it, but said Achoo so I wouldn’t snap his nose off. “Arenaver’s Deputy Provost is a stickler for procedure. She’ll want to go over everything. And the destrier will slow them down.”

“I’d forgotten about Drummer. Pox and murrain,” I grumbled.

Master Farmer shrugged. “It can’t be helped. Let’s hope he and Steady are worth the extra trouble. In the meantime, I think we should keep going. Tunstall and the lady will catch up with us eventually.”

“So they will,” I replied. It was no use grousing. We had to go forward.

I don’t know how long we followed that rolling stretch in and out of the trees. At least an hour later we passed through an open part with a big pond on one side of the road. The air smelled of damp earth and greens, while frogs and owls held their nightly gossips. Luckily for us it was too chilly for the biting insects to be out and about. I saw a few lights at the far end and guessed it was a village. Master Farmer put a shadow over his lantern so that it

gave out just enough light for him to see the road while I covered all but a spot on my stone lamp. Neither of us wanted anyone who might be up to see who was on the road so late at night.

When the ground began to rise, I decided there was no point in trying to show Master Farmer how tough I was. The muscle I had pulled before the boat landed was making my back hurt. It was time to ride. I think I disturbed the horse saddled for me. He snorted and shook his head as I took his reins from the string with the three packhorses. “Sorry to wake you,” I said, tipping his face up. “Did you think you were on holiday?” I stroked his neck, then blew carefully into his nostrils to make his acquaintance.

Treat her well, peasant, or you will deal with me, Pounce called from his throne.

The horse very carefully turned until his rump faced Pounce, raised his tail, and let fall a great pile of manure. He stopped, waited for a moment, then did the same again, as deliberately as Pounce would have done himself.

Insolent mortal, Pounce grumbled.

Master Farmer was laughing into the crook of his arm to keep the noise from carrying. I thought he might strangle at first. Finally he raised his head and wiped his streaming eyes. “I didn’t think … gods or … horses … had a sense of humor,” he said, gasping for air as he spoke.

“He’s a constellation, not a god,” I said as I gripped the saddle horn. The horse looked at me. “With your permission, good sir,” I told him, bowing. He snorted. I took that as a yes and mounted up.

Achoo whuffed impatiently, not liking the pause. She thought we had taken enough time for a change of transport. She didn’t understand that when the work was so dire, it helped to have a laugh now and then. “Coming,” I said, and nudged the gelding forward.

On we went as the road continued to rise. I put my stone lamp away, happy to rely on Master Farmer’s lantern. He’d picked up a long tree limb somewhere. He hung his lamp from one end and held it out well in front of him to show the way. It revealed hoofprints and cart tracks in the road as well as the normal bumps.

“Why don’t you just magic up a light?” I asked him, trying not to shiver. Now that I wasn’t running, the cold was starting to nibble at my skin. “It’d be easier.”

“Mayhap so, but not as wise,” Master Farmer replied, his eyes focused on the edges of the road. “We’d be in a fine pickle if I wasted strength on keeping a light in midair, only to need plenty of my Gift further along. Your lamp is different. I didn’t have to keep using my power once it was made. If I find a big enough piece of crystal or rock mixed with it, I’ll make another, but there’s no sense wasting this lantern.”

It was a little comforting to know he didn’t have so much power that he could use it on all of his chores.

“Cooper, are you sure we’re on the proper trail?” he asked. “What if they’ve dropped a lure for Achoo?”

“She got a strong scent,” I told Master Farmer. “If it was a lure, the scent would fade. The real one stays strong. Our lad gives it off all of the time. Besides, there’s signs from the slave caravan all along the road.” I pointed out the middens and the resting places on the roadside as we followed Achoo through the high point of a small pass cut through hills. I was guessing that they were hills. They were marked as such on my map of the district, where they ran between Arenaver and the Halseander River. We never could have told their height then, the dark being so thick and the stars being blocked by clouds.

“So these bits of piss and scummer help Achoo, even though they’re more than a day or two old?” Master Farmer asked.

“Very much so. That strong smell hangs on long past scent in the air, and the drops of liquid stick to the ground and the ground cover.” I smiled. “I hate the stuff most of the time, but when I’m out with Achoo, it makes my life so much easier.”

He fell silent. We both did as we rode on and up. Over the top of the pass, the breeze rose, plucking at my sleeves and making me shiver. I turned and grubbed in the packs on my mount. I hoped that my coat was here and not among my things on one of the other horses.

Master Farmer settled the branch on which he carried the lamp between his knee and his stirrup, and opened one of his own packs. “Here,” he said, holding out something bulky and dark. “This will keep you warm.”

I accepted what he offered, shaking out the folds. “A shawl?” I asked, startled. I hadn’t worn one since I got my Dog’s coat.

“I like shawls,” Master Farmer said. He sounded a little defensive to me. “I hate having a draft on my neck, and I hate having my arms hampered. I tie a shawl right and my neck and back are warm while my hands and arms can move as I need.”

The shawl was a big one. I wrapped it around me and draped one end over my back to hold it in place as we continued to ride down. New smells reached my nose from the folds: spices and musk, burned wood, wax. I remember thinking that this must be what mages smell like, before I raised my face to look ahead. New scents were coming on the breeze that flowed through the pass, too, odors I commonly think of as green ones. They are those of broken and rotting greenery and wood, the water in which those things rot, and soggy earth. The scent was heavy enough to worry me. I nudged my mount into a quicker walk, almost a trot. He picked up his pace without complaint. Master Farmer took his cue. I still kept an eye out for leavings from the slaves. They must have entered a clearing to one side. Crushed grass and footprints leading to and from the road told me that a large group had stopped there. Were they moving slowly enough that we might catch up with them in the next day or two?

The road was steeper than it was on the way up. The forest was shrinking, opening on both sides. Then we heard Achoo give a mournful howl, her sign that something had gone amiss. Master Farmer and I urged our horses into a trot. “Is she hurt?” Master Farmer called to me.

“No. Something’s mucked up her Hunt,” I replied.

When we reached Achoo, I found the source of the newest smells. A marsh lay on both sides of the roadbed, which had been built up a little ways into it. Achoo stood at the end of the road. Beside her was the beginning of what must have been a good bridge at one time. It thrust no more than a foot away from the land before it ended in blackened timbers.

I slid out of the saddle and went to look at the swine-swiving mess. Behind me the lantern light brightened until I could see clearly out into the marsh for a good way, which was part of the issue—it was a good way, yet Master Farmer’s mage-light did not touch the far side. What it did show was smoke-marked stone piers that crossed the marsh, some with a few bits of charred wood stuck to them yet. I crouched beside the ruins on the road and broke off a piece of wood. Achoo whimpered and paced back and forth, stopping twice to nudge me in the back as if she said, “Can’t you do something?”

“Master Farmer, we don’t need so much light,” I reminded him.

The light shrank until it reached just a foot beyond me.

The smoke drifted in the air around us. The thick boards that remained within reach were cool, so it had been more than a day since the fire, but not much more. The smoke would have been entirely gone in that case. I swiveled on my toes to check to either side. There was a well-used footpath leading away on my right. On my left was a small road that led north, skirting the marsh. If there was a village or town nearby, it would be that way. I heard nothing but the cheep of crickets and frogs and the sounds made by calm horses.

I lifted the bit of wood close to my nose and sniffed. Under the odor of burned wood was another smell, one I knew. I took the piece away, snorted to clear my nose, then brought the wood up again. I knew that scent. Tunstall and I have worked enough burnings-for-hire for me to recognize magefire when I smell it.

I rose and carried the piece of wood back to Master Farmer. He smelled it and said, “Magefire.”

“Craven canker-licking sarden arseworms,” I said. I wanted to break a few kidnappers’ heads just to relieve my feelings.

“I think you’re being too kind,” Master Farmer replied, turning the wood over

in his fingers as if it might talk to him. “What’s the matter with Achoo?”

“She’s poxy mad with frustration,” I snapped, “aren’t you?” Then I looked at her afresh. She had run a yard down the footpath, away from the road, then back to the bridge. She turned back and forth for a moment, her movement saying as clear as Common that she was torn between two problems. Then she trotted down the footpath that short distance, only to return. Something that bothered her lay not far down that path, close enough for her to smell. It also gave off an odor she recognized as one she would follow while on duty. Only another official business smell would distract her on a Hunt.

I took my baton from its straps and drew my horse’s reins over his head, leaving them to drag on the ground so he would not stray. Master Farmer had dismounted and let the reins to his own horse hang. He lifted his lamp from the long stick in his right hand and nodded for me to take the lead.

“Dukduk, Achoo,” I ordered her quietly. If the problem was close by, I would not need her skills. I also did not want to risk falling over her if we ventured into the tall reeds that bordered the path on both sides.

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