She cursed herself while she watched the shallow waterway flow slowly by.
After a while it occurred to her, there was only one option left to her. She had to leave the town, following the road further into Petrya. Once she’d gone far enough, she would wait.
~
IT was the third day of waiting.
Ella sat on a crest of rock, high above the road, where she could see for a great distance in each direction. It was difficult business, waiting. Beside her, the slope dropped down to the shore of a lake. She watched it hungrily. It had been weeks since she had washed at the Steady Hand. She could feel the build up of dirt and dust on every part of her body. Her eyes were grimy, her cheeks stained with the signs of her travels.
It was the middle of the day. The winter that was so cold in the north seemed almost non-existent here in Petrya. Ella felt uncomfortably hot. Sweat ran down the skin between her breasts, adding to the build-up of grime. She imagined how she would look to Killian. Not that she cared of course, her priority was to get back what he had stolen and leave him tied up somewhere to think about what he’d done.
Sunlight sparkled off the water. There was a tapered tree leaning out over the pool. She could see its rust-coloured leaves reflected in the water.
Ella sighed and continued to watch the road. Looking to the extreme limit of the perspective she had on this peak, she wondered how long it would take for a man to walk the distance of road her vision covered. After some thought she estimated three hours.
Three hours. And that was if he came as soon as she left her perch. Most likely she would come back and find nothing had changed. In a worst case scenario, she would come back and see him walking along the road with plenty of time to prepare.
Three hours, and all she needed was half an hour.
The cool water beckoned.
41
Just be glad the Veznans never joined the Rebellion. I hear they were close. Ever seen what happens when a building is abandoned for a while? Nature beats civilisation every time.
— Torak soldier, date unknown.
KILLIAN grimaced as his face pushed through a spider web. He peeled the web off, wiping his hands on the once-white cassock. He crept forward, pulling the branches to the sides, keeping his body low and under the cover of the trees. His feet were silent on the soft dirt, crunching forward slowly one after the other.
The cloth of his acolyte’s robe caught on a thorn. His movements even and careful, he untangled the garment and continued his stealthy approach.
Not for the first time he thanked the Sunlord for the providence that had given him a priest’s outfit. It was a part he could play to perfection, having grown up around priests, seen how they spoke and acted his whole life. People always assumed the best of a priest. They thought he was a gentle, non-violent man, with little preoccupation with worldly possessions, consumed with worship of the Evermen.
If they had known some of the templars Killian had, people would quickly revise their opinions.
His acolyte’s robe meant the locals didn’t look twice when he’d shown up possession-less and smelling like a two-week dead rat in the country towns of Altura’s south. He was a priest, he lived on another plane, what more could be expected? Still, he’d needed to pay his way somehow, and felt guilty about stealing from the innkeeper.
The garb had also been of major benefit when he’d been accosted by the bandits at Wondhip Pass. They’d snickered and called him weak. He’d played his part, pleading for them to let him on his way, before he’d withdrawn the cudgel he’d pocketed inside his robe and let at them.
He’d let his anger flow freely then. Still, it had been an even match. A fight against eight men was truly testing his skill, even though he only fought one or two at a time as they got in each other’s way. He still bore bruises from the encounter, and a sword had narrowly missed the artery in his thigh. Fortunately the blade had been rusty and had barely penetrated his leg. Added to the gouge across his back, the pain was becoming unbearable.
It was a haven to be in Petrya. He wasn’t especially fond of the passionate Petryans, but a priest of the Evermen was always welcome in their lands. He’d simply said he was on a pilgrimage — on his way to Stonewater — and they had taken him in, feeding him and giving him time to bathe and repair himself. Knowing that Petryans had a history of enmity with Altura, he’d also asked his hosts to be on the look out for Alturan bandits who had been trailing him in search of easy prey.