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“The ferryman will be able to identify you,” she said instead.
“Choose your battles, woman. I cannot possibly satisfy all your complaints right now.” The bloody mask disappeared beneath the green cloth and he nudged the back of her boot with his foot to set her in the right direction. Together, they crossed the open field.
It was more exposed than she'd first imagined. Her heart beat harder as they zigzagged across trails toward the river, its waters little more than a silver gleam in the distance. Soon, the sun would set. How would they travel in the dark?
The sawmills along the river came into view and a long, keening cry rose in the field behind them.
Thea's heart leaped into her throat.
“Remain calm.” Gil's hand closed on her upper arm, keeping her from jumping or running ahead. “Nothing has gone wrong. All we have to do is reach the ferry.”
And the dogs would follow them right across the river.
The moment she opened her mouth to ask his plan for when that happened, he cursed under his breath.
As the ferryman's shack came into view, so did a dozen armored guards.
“Our little detour was costly,” Gil murmured.
A prickle of irritation crawled up her neck. Surely he didn't mean to imply it was her fault. He was the one who demanded her magic.
He didn't give her time to protest. Instead, he grasped her by the wrist and pushed the basket's handle into her hold. “Board the ferry at the first opportunity you get. No matter what happens, you must cross the river.”
Her fingers closed and he released the basket so swiftly that her arms dropped with the sudden weight. “What do you mean?”
Gil put a hand against the middle of her back and steered her through the grove and straight for the ferry.
A guard stepped into their path with a hand raised, palm out. “Ferry's not running. You'll have to turn back.”
“Not running?” Gil sounded convincingly dismayed. “You can't possibly mean to divert us to the bridge this close to nightfall.”
The guard's voice turned gruff. “Bridge is closed. Head back for Samara.” He pointed toward the city.
At the same time, another guard spoke. “Take down your hood.”
Gil pressed more firmly against Thea's back, aiming her toward the ferry behind the guards. “I would rather not.”
The guard frowned and stepped forward, hand out to seize his hood.
Gil caught his wrist and wrenched his arm.
A wave of shouts went up from the guards. They sprang forward as Gil struck his captive twice in the chest and sent him to the ground. Two went for Thea.
He targeted them first. “Go!” Gil snarled as he intercepted them. The dagger he drew to deflect their swords seemed woefully inadequate.
Thea yelped and scrambled around the guards. More came at her and she ducked under a blade with her hands over her head.
Gil kicked a man's knee out from under him and the guard collapsed with a cry. He darted closer, striking a new enemy, drawing attention instead of coming to her rescue. The guards centered on him as he took another down. “Move!”
“I'm trying!” Thea scrambled forward and squeaked when a guard caught her by the hair. She stumbled and gripped her temples as pain shot across her scalp.
An instant later, Gil's open palm impacted the guard's jaw and sent him reeling. A dozen guards, and he'd already taken down five.
Gulping back fear, Thea cradled her sewing basket in both arms and dove for the ferry. It rocked beneath her, water sloshing across its stained planks. Gil was right behind her, and the guards behind him.
“Stay down,” he barked as he seized the guide chain and pulled hard. The ferry lurched and jerked to a halt. His breath hissed between his teeth as a guard leaped the gap between the dock and ferry.
Thea disobeyed. She dragged herself across the ferry's deck as Gil parried a slash, her basket looped over her arm. Another guard prepared to jump. She reached up and snagged the hilt of a dagger on Gil's thigh.
