Miro knew it was their last night with the bearded healers in the blue smocks, and silent as they were, he felt he'd come to know them. Each had a face that was as expressive as a child's; they could raise their eyebrows high, or curl their faces into fierce scowls. They may not have spoken, but they laughed, in great big guffaws and girlish giggles.
That night, Amber made a special meal. She had three pans in the fire simultaneously, working and tasting in a finely orchestrated dance, sprinkling spices here, adding herbs there. She caramelised wild onions and sat the mixture on a flat circle of sliced root she'd baked earlier. After the savoury morsels she served a stew of mushroom and wild rice, seasoned with herbs and spices, rich and fragrant. To conclude the meal she ground nuts to make a coarse flour and added water, frying circles of the mixture to make pancakes. Amber topped the cakes with berries, handing them out to each of the healers in turn before giving one to Miro with a smile.
"That was the finest meal I've ever had," said the healer with the long beard, leaning back against a fallen log and rubbing his belly with a sigh. "I could die tomorrow and know I'd lived well and eaten the best."
Amber blushed, and Miro grinned. He stood and walked around the circle, taking each man's bowl and walking down to a nearby stream to wash.
When he returned, the musician with the gourd was plucking at his strings, filling the air with soothing music. The rest of the healers had fallen asleep around the fire.
Miro chuckled and saw Amber smile up at him.
They would part ways the next day. Miro decided that this was how he would always remember them.
~
MIRO jumped awake with a start, suddenly on his feet as he realised there were people everywhere. So many of them! They weren't looking for the camp, that much was clear; the camp was simply in the way.
He could see even more people, over in the direction of the crossroads. They were all running in the same direction. What was happening?
Miro sensed Amber beside him. "Draw your knife," he said, as some running men kicked one of the logs that lay over the fire, sending sparks in all directions. "Be prepared."
Miro held Amber close as he led her up a slight rise beside the encampment, beside some trees where they would be out of the way of the running men and women.
A group of soldiers came out of the trees, running with the others, holding the barest amount of military discipline together. There were at least twenty of them.
Miro swore. "Deserters. They'll be dangerous."
"Stop," one of the soldiers ordered his fellows. "We're on the run now, you all know that." He gestured to the camp. "We need food, blankets, gilden... Whatever they've got."
The brothers were awake now, and most were standing, faces showing confusion. They moved closer together while the soldiers searched the camp.
"No food," said one of the soldiers.
"Just a few blankets," said another.
"You," the leader said, pointing at one of the bearded healers. "Where's your food?"
"He's a brother of the Order," a soldier said. "He won't answer you."
The leader spotted Miro standing with Amber nearby. "These people aren't brothers. Search them."
Miro knew there were too many soldiers for him to take on alone. He wondered if they would be able to talk their way out of the situation.
The long-bearded healer suddenly walked forward and shoved the leader from behind. "Run!" he cried.
Miro had no choice. He took Amber's hand and ran.
Looking over his shoulder, he saw the leader of the deserters stumble and then spin on his heel, an expression of rage on his face. His sword cut through the healer's chest, sending a spray of blood into the hair of his long beard. Some of the soldiers turned to give chase, but others channelled the fear they all felt into anger. More of the brothers were cut down by the scared deserters.
Miro held Amber's hand as they ducked and weaved past both trees and running people. He knew if he let go of Amber's hand she would be swept away by the fleeing Gokani. They reached the crossroads heaving and panting, but there was no one behind them.
"The brothers!" Amber cried. "Did you see if they escaped?"
Miro thought about the bright splash of red he'd seen as he looked over his shoulder. He knew from experience that when scared men saw blood their fear would intensify.
"I'm sure they'll be fine," Miro lied.
31
THE MAIN road to Wengwai was wide and level, with sloped fields of grass at both edges. This close to the Gokani capital the smooth stones had been laid in a pattern of alternating colours, pleasing to the eye and easy on the foot.
Today, the stones of the main road couldn't be seen through the river of people, all heading in the same direction: to the border crossing at Renton, and the perceived safety of Veldria.
Miro and Amber didn't try to travel on the road, instead keeping to the sloped terrain to the side. It seemed they were the only ones heading to, rather than from Wengwai.