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Kayan washed down a mouthful of cake with a generous swig of water, then said, "Well, I'm glad we got a gradual introduction to things. I think this is about as far as I could go today."
Galar grinned. "I hope you don't mean that. We will move out again at dusk for another few hours of travel."
She had been about to take another bite of inix; she stopped with the meat halfway to her mouth and said, "You're kidding. What's the rush?"
"There is no rush," Galar said. "That is just the way elves travel. Two short marches during the most pleasant parts of the day. Be glad we aren't in a hurry, or we would move at a run, sometimes all through the night."
Jedra had a thought. "What about the chief?" he asked. "He's got a limp. He can't run, can he?"
Galar lost a little of his smile. "He can and must if he wishes to remain chief. We have no room in the tribe for people who can't keep up, no matter who they are."
"Wonderful," Kayan said. She finished the rest of her meal in silence and disappeared immediately into the community tent, evidently determined to get as much rest as possible before the tribe moved out again.
Jedra followed her a few minutes later, the meal after such heavy exertion making him drowsy, but as he stepped into the relative darkness of the huge tent he was momentarily blind, and he crashed right into someone coming out.
"Oh, sorry," he said, backing up and blinking to see who he'd collided with. To his horror, he saw Sahalik standing there, frowning down at him as if Jedra were something smelly and unpleasant he'd just stepped in.
"Sorry," Jedra said again. "I wasn't watching where I was going."
Sahalik didn't say a word. He just stepped out of the tent, brushing Jedra aside effortlessly and continuing on his way. The hair on the back of Jedra's neck tingled as he watched the elf walk away, his head held high.
When Sahalik had disappeared around the flank of the next tent, Jedra turned back inside, found his bedroll in the now-small pile, and stepped across the sleepers to spread it out beside Kayan.
Did he give you a hard time again? he sent, but her only answer was a soft snore.
* * *
The evening march was excruciating. Muscles overtaxed in the morning walk had had just enough time to stiffen up before being called upon to perform once again, and the meal they had eaten hardly seemed to sustain Jedra or Kayan for more than the first couple of miles. Their sandals weren't made for long hikes, either; the straps dug into their feet and the sand wore the skin raw.
Wincing with every step, they slowly drifted back toward the end of the line of elves, finally settling in with the half-dozen elderly women who walked with silent determination through the cooling sand. Jedra didn't know for sure, but he suspected if any of them faltered, they would simply be left behind. That would explain their perseverance.
There were no elderly men. The tribe's chief was the oldest male Jedra had seen, and he was barely half the age of some of the women. He was still in excellent shape, too; even with his limp, it was he who set this breakneck pace. Jedra supposed most elven men died in battle or in hunting accidents long before they reached old age. Not an encouraging thought.
But then he wouldn't be traveling with the Jura-Dai for long. As soon as they reached a city where he and Kayan could arrange for more conventional transportation they could continue their search for a psionics master in relative safety and comfort. Jedra had the money he'd taken from Dornal, the dead mage. There was enough silver and gold in the leather pouch to provide for two travelers for at least a year if they were frugal, and Jedra was an expert at that. He also had the mage's charm bag full of spellcasting amulets and fetishes, which was of no use to a psionicist but might be worth quite a bit to another sorcerer. Yes, Jedra thought, if he and Kayan survived the next few days they should be all right. When the stars came out and the elves kept on marching, neither Jedra nor Kayan was at all sure what would come to pass, but finally, just as they were about to collapse right on the trail, the tribe came to a halt and began pitching tents.
Suddenly Jedra wished he had opted for bed instead. The elf girls were young and curious and hardly tired at all; their steady barrage of questions and the foreigners' answers drew more and more attention until everyone around the fire was listening to their tales of life in the city of Urik.
Kayan's description of her days as psionic healer among the templars drew a mixture of hostility and wonder. None of the elves-save maybe Galar-had ever come close to a sorcerer-king's palace, much less lived right next to one. It was clear that most of the elves didn't believe half of her descriptions of the riches she had enjoyed, especially the lush gardens the king kept hidden behind his palace walls.
Jedra's life on the streets was easier for them to understand, and in many ways more exciting. He recounted a few of his more audacious exploits in the market, and as he began warming to the subject he embellished things a bit, claiming for himself a few incidents that he had only witnessed or heard about. He was just getting to the good part of a complete fabrication about how he'd saved a noblewoman from a crazed gladiator when a sudden blow to his back sent him sprawling in the sand beside the fire.
His street instincts belatedly kicked into action. His loose robe nearly tangled him up, but he pulled it tight in front of him and rolled sideways to avoid a kick or a weapon blow, then leaped to his feet, ready to run or fight, whichever was required. It was the exact wrong thing to do; when his vision cleared he saw Sahalik standing before him, his arms crossed over his burly chest.
"Oops," Sahalik said in his deep voice. "I didn't see you there, hero." Then he sat down next to Kayan.
A few of the other elves laughed, and someone called out, "Ooh, don't let him get away with that!"
"Yeah," someone else said, "show him what you did to the gladiator!"
Jedra looked nervously at the sea of narrow faces turned toward him in the flickering firelight. They were all waiting to see what he would do, and he knew only one thing would satisfy them. He wasn't about to get himself killed just to please a tribe of elves, but even if he hadn't had an audience, he knew from experience that he had to stand up to Sahalik somehow or suffer his abuse indefinitely.
Trouble was, there was no way he could fight the elf warrior. Sahalik could tie him in a knot any time he wanted to, and they both knew it. Jedra's only chance was to humiliate him somehow and make him afraid to tangle with the half-elf again. He thought frantically for anything in his experience that might work here, and suddenly he had it. He had seen a pair of jesters stage a mock fight one time...
Straightening his robe again, he stepped back a pace to give himself some room, then swept his right foot across the ground from side to side, drawing a deep line in the sand with the toe of his sandal.
"I dare you to cross that line," he said.
The elves fell silent. They obviously hadn't expected Jedra to challenge the strongest member of the tribe.
