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I stood with the dead, offering up my prayer and hope that the Black God would take them gently into his home. Then I looked for two in particular. The attic servants were set on one side of the shed, those guests from the third floor on the other. Carefully, keeping my back to my watcher, I examined the few burned bodies from the third floor. The throat cuts were visible even on such charred remains. They belonged to a tall cove and a small one. Canart and his guest? Silently I promised them both that the sandalwood-scented killer would pay for what he’d done. To keep my books even, I found the mot with the cut throat among the attic dead, and promised her the same.
The servant detailed to watch me cleared his throat. He flinched when I glared at him, but it was all for show. I was finished. I went outside to find my companions. Who should I tell? The keeper of the wayhouse? He already knew the fire had been set. Surely the Dogs who came to investigate must be informed, in case this throat cutter was known to them. I stripped a sheet from my journal and wrote the sandalwood-scented man’s description in it, saying I had it from one of those burned who died as we bore him out. There was no one who could give me the lie, since I’d carried plenty of victims last night. I closed it with a complicated set of folds since I had no seal with me, and addressed it to the Provost’s Guard investigators. The servant and I walked outside.
I stuffed the note in the front of my tunic, one corner scratching the underside of my chin as Pounce and I mounted Saucebox. Achoo, eager to be moving again, danced beside us. The servant left, making the Sign on his chest, as soon as I nudged Saucebox.
Sabine and Farmer were on horseback, holding Tunstall’s mount and the spares, near the open gate. The innkeeper and the chief hostler stood with them, their faces angry in the light of the torch held by the lady. Tunstall knelt just beside the gate, holding a lantern high and moving it over the ground.
Sabine rode to me after passing the torch she held to the chief hostler. “The gate was ajar,” she said, her voice low. “Since the mud is drying around the open position, it’s plain whoever opened it did so last night, while everything was still wet.” She nodded toward the brothers. “They are furious, and I can’t blame them. There are three horses missing. They can’t tell yet who has gone.”
“Pox and murrain,” I replied. I had a feeling in my gut that the fire-setting killer was one who’d ridden out that gate.
We returned to the brothers and Farmer and watched as Tunstall, walking at the edge of the road through the gate, went outside it. Ten feet away he crouched again, inspecting the road with the lantern held close. Suddenly he rose and paced a big circle around that part in the road, stopping to inspect grass he pulled from the margins. Having made his circle, he knelt and collected a pinch of earth, smelling it before he rubbed it in his fingers.
Despite the early hour, I enjoyed seeing him work. As much as Achoo, Tunstall is a master tracker. People scorn him sometimes because he’s a hillman, but everyone who wants to learn the skills of a tracker among the Corus Dogs comes to my partner for lessons.
Tunstall rose and came back to us, handing the lantern to the innkeeper. “One person on one horse,” he said, still partway inside that daze of concentration he has when he’s been working a complicated set of signs. “He helped himself, or herself, to spares, two of them, but they carried no burdens of any weight. The ground was sloppy, but starting to dry. We were abed by then and you coves were tidying up. Anyone awake was too busy to notice.” He sighed and took his gloves from his belt. I was startled to see them, and glanced at his feet, then Sabine’s. The innkeeper must have found them gloves and boots that fit somewhere. Most of these places kept stores of goods left behind for one reason or another. “He still had company,” Tunstall went on, taking his mount’s reins from Farmer. “A party of five horses was waiting where you saw me stop. The riders had been there some little while, long enough for the horses to eat grass. They left when he joined them. Are there any other roads besides the Great One going northwest from here? Their party didn’t turn south.”
“There’s the Ashford Road,” the chief hostler replied. I realized what I would be doing and began to strip off my boots. The hostler went on, “That’s southwest, just where the bridge is. Closer to us, on your right as you ride to the gorge, they’s Freedman Road. That leads northeast, up to Halleburn Lake.”
Sabine made the tiniest of grimaces. “I didn’t realize we were so close.” The men all looked at her. She shrugged. “My father is first cousin to the lord of Halleburn.”
“Curst lucky for you,” muttered the chief hostler. His brother glared at him. Since I was securing my boots and stockings to my mount’s saddle, I could hide my grin. The chief hostler, who seemed to run things here, plainly did not serve as the public face of the inn. Diplomacy did not appear to be one of his skills.
“We’ll try to send word back which road they took the first chance we get,” Tunstall promised the coves. “May we purchase a torch for Cooper?”
“I don’t need one,” I reminded him. I reached into my pocket and produced my stone lamp. “See?”
The chief hostler looked at me while the innkeeper stepped back. “Pretty,” he said. “Had we enough of those, we’d need never pay for lamps or torches again.”
Farmer grinned. “If I ever find enough stones and muster enough power, I’ll make you some to help repay you for the losses of the night.”
“You’ve done enough with your cough medicine,” the hostler told him. He looked at Tunstall, then at me. “One of you tracks standing and one running?” he asked me. “A sound way to divide the work.”
“If we had aught for scent of these Rats, Achoo would do it all,” Tunstall said. “My friends, our sorrows for what has happened to you this night—”
I held up my hand. “Your pardon, Tunstall, but I’ve more news that we all have to know. This is for the Provost’s Guard when they come,” I told the innkeeper as I passed the note to him. Then I told everyone about the sandalwood-scented fire-setter.
“How did you find this out?” the innkeeper demanded. “You knew this last night and you didn’t tell us?”
“I learned it just now, and you might not care for my means of learning this,” I said. “Look at my partners. Can’t you tell they’ve just heard it from me?”
“You have my word,” Sabine told the innkeeper, in a tone that informed him to accept that and seal his gob.
“Don’t go on about our Beka,” Farmer said with his biggest looby grin. “You wouldn’t ask me how I make up cough medicine, would you? All those sacrificed birds and so on. Magic.”
They both made the Sign on their chests and moved away from me. I had my back to them, so I could silently mouth at Farmer, You’re a bad man.
The cook came running toward us, her uncombed hair tumbling over her shoulders. She carried a basket. In answer to the innkeeper’s glare, she said, “The lady and her man saved my boy’s life last night. I’m not letting them ride hungry.” She handed it up to Sabine. “Gods all bless you folk. I pray you find what you Hunt,” she said.
“You saved more than us, with the water magic,” Sabine told her. “But thank you, and Goddess bless.”
That made us all remember what had taken place, and sweetened our moods. “I only wish our stay here had been happier for everyone concerned,” Sabine told the brothers. She leaned down and clasped hands with both of them. As she did, I saw a flash of gold each time. I hoped that coin would help them to rebuild.
As we rode off, the men closed the gates behind us and locked them.
Tunstall gave me a roll cut in half, with sliced ham and cheese between the pieces of bread. I ate it with appreciation as I ran ahead with Achoo, tracking both our prince and the horses of the inn’s horse thief.
The day dawned, if such a shining word might be used. It was chilly for June. Fog lay everywhere, muffling the forest sounds. Before I could see well without my lamp, we had reached the divide in the road and the sign that read Freedman Road, Halleburn
Lake, Castle Halleburn. When I tried to go that way, following the very early-morning tracks the arsonist had joined, Achoo yelped. She might have had only a little of the scent left after so much rain, but it was enough to tell her that our true path lay on the Great Road. The Rat from the Wayhouse was someone else’s problem. Tunstall left a trail sign for the Dogs from Babet, should they come this way. It was all we could do, barring a message from the next stop where we could find someone to carry it.
I tucked my stone lamp away once there was light enough to see by. Now that we were done with the runaway arsonist from the inn, I mounted Saucebox, making Pounce grumble. He liked it very much when he didn’t have to share the saddle with me.
I confess, I napped as we rode on. I’d had too little sleep the night before and couldn’t help it.
When we halted, Farmer roused me. “Beka, we’re at the bridge.”
I pried my eyes open. A pair of men-at-arms stood before a small cabin at the side of the most immense bridge I’d ever seen, named on my maps as the Black Griffin Bridge. The men-at-arms wore the maroon and cream of the army, which meant there was a fort somewhere nearby. I watched them with suspicion, wondering if they were part of the lords’ and mages’ rebellion, with orders to shoot us down.
I was wrong. They took the coin for the toll from Tunstall, speaking with him in quiet voices. Impatient to ride on, I looked around. Achoo danced her own impatience at the foot of the statues that marked the corners of the bridge. These were griffins carved of strong black wood, both of them fifteen feet tall. One had wings halfway extended. The others kept hers neatly folded. They were lovely. I wished I could meet the one who’d made them so splendid, with each feather beautiful in its detail.
While I admired the carvings, Farmer stared into the fog-filled gorge. “I’m surprised she hasn’t done something to this bridge. It seems to be her favorite thing. Maybe the spells here are too strong,” he said, more to himself than me.
“Spells?” I asked.
He looked down at me. “Layers and layers of them, placed by more mages than I can count. Even small mages do it, so they can be certain the bridge will always be there.”
I ran my hand down the side of the griffin with his lifted wings. He looked as if he would take flight at any moment. I wanted to be on his back if he did. “You wish she’d spring the trap to your spell,” I suggested to Farmer.
He sighed. “If she did, it would be one less mage to worry about. Apart from Achoo keeping on the scent, we haven’t had a bit of luck on this Hunt.”
“Achoo’s a lucky dog,” I said, tossing her a bit of dried meat. She gobbled it and returned to dancing her impatience on the bridge.
Tunstall rode up to her, his talk with the guards over. “Let’s go, everyone,” he called.
I dismounted and tied Saucebox’s reins to the string of packhorses led by Farmer. With that done, I ran forward. Achoo didn’t even wait for me to give the order. She raced down the bridge.
When we were in the middle, Tunstall trotted up to me. “We’ll keep close today,” he said. “The guards told me the cart went this way two days ago.”
Soldiers were also posted on the far side of the bridge, but they just waved us by. I waved to them and Tunstall flipped them a silver coin for friendship’s sake. When I looked over my shoulder, surprised by his generosity, he shrugged. “It never hurts to butter the army, Cooper, you should know that.”
“Some of my best friends are soldiers,” Sabine agreed with a wave to the guards. Seeing Tunstall’s look, she grinned. “No, dearest Mattes, not that kind of friend.”
Nice as it was to have them so close, I wished they would be quiet. I needed to listen to the woods. I also cursed the road. The way was muddy, though more so on the sides than the middle. The first time Achoo stopped for a drink, I stripped off my breeches, which were splattered. I rinsed them in the stream where Achoo drank while the others waited for us. Quickly I draped them over my shoulder pack to dry. If I had to deal with folk in wayhouses and towns, I had no clean extra clothes to change into anymore. My tunic reached to my knees, which was respectable enough for country work, and I cared naught for running barefoot like this. I was so grateful to be directly on the chase that I would have run through sewers again.
The country on this side of the gorge was heavily forested. Far off I saw mountains with snow on their peaks, for all it was near the end of June. Tunstall and I had never gone so far north, and I truly didn’t want to do it now. The thought of the length of such a trip and the damage that would befall Their Majesties and their little boy over that time, was a nightmare. Still, they were beautiful, those mountains. They looked peaceful. Of course, they were far away. Everything looks peaceful when it’s not on top of you.
For the first time since we had begun to track the Viper and the prince using the small middens with the lad’s scent, I could now see clearly how many traveled with them. Once I had crossed the bridge, theirs were among the few tracks left on the right, as caravans had come south on the other side of the road and the travelers going north were scant of late. From the tracks around the cart’s wheels, with the guards’ feet marked by boots and the slaves’ by their bare footprints, I worked it out to be six guards. Two always flanked the cart. Four stayed with the six slaves. The lad must ride in the cart, because there were no footprints in his size. I worked it out on my fingers, which Sabine teased was a habit of the illiterate. Six guards, plus a driver for the wagon, plus the prince, plus at least two mages—the Viper and the other mot said to be in the cart. We would be tracking them for a long time until Lord Gershom could send enough Dogs to arrest them all.
We’d been running two hours off and on since the bridge. We’d encountered no one and heard naught but creatures and birds when Achoo and I stopped for a rest. Our Hunt mates drew up with us.
“Tunggu,” I ordered. Achoo found a dry rock in the sun and lay down.
Farmer inched his mount up between Tunstall and me. Carefully, I suspected so Tunstall wouldn’t grumble, he held out a hand. I took it without thinking. It was a good hand, warm and comforting.
Farmer cleared his throat. “Beka.” I looked up at him. His cheeks were red. “That’s … I’ve never seen you … Usually you wear breeches with your tunic.”
I shrugged and pointed to the top of my pack, fingering my clothes. They were still drying. “I only have one uniform. It’s best if my breeches aren’t all over mud should I need to be civilized.”
“Oh, absolutely!” he said, nodding too hard. “It’s just that I’ve, I’ve never, well, you look different. Good. Very good,” he said quickly, turning redder. “I’m going to shut my gob now.”
Now it was my turn to blush and turn away. If I was right, he’d just complimented my legs. Most coves didn’t, those times I ran bare-legged. Either they felt they might eat my fist if they did or they were the object of my running.
“How many are we chasing, Cooper?” Tunstall asked. He dismounted and stretched. Sabine did the same.
“Sixteen is my count,” I told them, and added how many I thought were riding and how many were afoot.
“And a day or less ahead,” Tunstall added as Farmer let go of my hand and dismounted from his own horse. “I’d like to know what happened to those Dogs that were supposed to be coming from Frasrlund, or even if there are closer Dogs we can trust. Farmer, can you reach Lord Gershom yet?”
Farmer shook his head. “I can’t get through at all now,” he confessed. “Either someone has blocked Cassine, or me. Either one is bad. I do know from what I heard last that they’re not sure of the loyalties of the Dog stations between here and there. They were going to see about those that are more toward the northeast.”
“Loyalties. I wouldn’t trust the loyalties of anyone today,” Tunstall muttered. “Why do you tell us this only now?”
“When else should I have told you? Before the fire, when you were in the wayhouse and we were in the stable, or after the fire?” inquired Farmer.
/> “Mattes, enough,” Sabine told him, tugging his ear.
Achoo barked at me. She was tired of resting. I told her, “Maji!”
She sniffed beside the road, then took off. I raced to catch sight of her before she vanished around a curve. I was too late. She was out of my sight when she let out a howl that almost made me trip over my feet. I recovered from the stumble and ran to find her, rounding a large stone boulder at the roadside as I yanked my baton from its holding strap.
The first thing I saw as I passed the great stone was a wagon-house, a red-painted hut on wheels like moneyed folk took on the summer roads. The roof trim was painted yellow and decorated with signs for protection. More such signs were painted around the shuttered window and the door in the back, and on the yellow-trimmed wheels. It lay on its side, the door hanging open on its leather hinges. I saw no sign of whatever beast or beasts had pulled it. The shafts were empty. Bandits, I thought. They would have taken everything of value to sell and like as not the cart would slow them down.
