Damn that woman. Not for the first time, he wondered what role she’d played at Tegann, other than killing Dirai, his black-tailed hawk—the last means of communicating with the men he’d been separated from last summer. Now she was back. Capable as Demoran squires were, the young prince would probably have faltered on his own eventually, but she drove his escape. If not for her, they’d have him, and Huzar wouldn’t have left the bloody mess of his second-in-command behind.
Shouts ahead. Had the Demorans gotten around them? Three of his men came running from the trees. They stopped and bent over, hands on knees as they tried to catch their breath.
“Casmuni!” one finally managed to gasp.
“A half mile ahead,” said another. “Attacked us.”
The third man fell to his knees, clutching a bloody hand to his thigh.
“Are they following you?” asked Huzar.
“No,” said the first man. “They went back where they came from. There must be more.”
Huzar’s hands clenched into fists. To be so close to his goal only to meet another obstacle. “And the prince and his companion?”
“No sign we saw, Captain, and we lost Gispan.”
Though he thought things could not get worse, Huzar was proved wrong by a yell from behind. Demorans had been sighted along the rim of the gorge. The only thing that offered mercy was the setting sun and the promise of another moonless night.
Failed. Huzar had failed.
He looked up into the eyes of the men who awaited his command. “We must withdraw. Let the Demorans deal with the Casmuni.”
62
ALEX PRODDED THE corpse with his foot. Dead about a day. The cause of death was obvious—his throat was ripped open, but the lack of blood told Alex it hadn’t happened here. He crouched down and fingered the wound. It was a clean, narrow cut made by a blade about the length of his handspan. Could have been any dagger, but Alex would have put money on one with a black-and-gold hilt.
Casseck approached from behind. “The trail from that fight back there led into the desert. Three to four men, at least one was wounded. From the blood, it was yesterday evening.”
Alex nodded as he pushed to his feet. They’d lost a lot of time last night. He hadn’t wanted to stop, but he’d been near collapse from not having slept in over two days, and it became too dark to track anymore. The Norsari took shelter near several large boulders at the east end of the canyon and slept for a few hours. As soon as the twilight was enough to see by, they were on the move again. Three miles downriver, they came across bloody footprints and trampled foliage. Cass had taken a team to investigate, but Alex had continued along the river until he found the boat and the dead man.
His friend barely glanced at the body; it had been dragged out of the water and was obviously incidental. “So they stopped here. Then what?”
Alex pointed to an arc of heavy footprints in the sand. “They were surrounded.” He moved to where she’d faced them, standing between Nicholas and about eight men. Sweet Spirit, she was brave.
“Then she and Nicholas went this way.” Alex followed her steps into the trees. Tracks in dry sand were difficult to interpret, but he was able to determine she wasn’t running or stumbling. When her footprints and the others reached the edge of the vegetation, they narrowed into a single line leading southwest, into the dunes.
While the order of events was a little confusing, the conclusion was obvious. Sage and Nicholas had been found by Casmuni and gone with them into the desert. They hadn’t put up a fight, but he trusted her to have made the best decision at the time.
As he watched, a strong wind swept across the sand, beginning the process of erasing the only clues he had to find her.
“What are your orders, Captain?” said Casseck.
Uncle Raymond would want Alex to go after Nicholas, but the Norsari with him had brought very little food along, thinking they’d be gone only a day. It would take at least two days to get provisions from the camp. Thanks to the fire, there might not even be enough to gather until Colonel Traysden arrived. With the prince now in the hands of the Casmuni, Alex losing command was inevitable, but it was nothing compared to losing her.
Somehow that gave him a tremendous sense of freedom.
“You’re going back,” Alex said finally. “Inform Colonel Traysden of everything that’s happened and turn command of the Norsari over to him.”
“What about you?”
“I’m going after them.” Alex pivoted to address the Norsari gathering behind them. “I need all the canteens, every scrap of food you men have, and two volunteers.”
63
DARIT LED THEM through the sand well into twilight before stopping in a copse of trees surrounding a spring of clear water. The sun was high overhead when Sage woke the next morning, though she lay in the shade. Nicholas was sprawled on the sand nearby, still asleep. She groaned and stretched, noticing the smell of cooking drifted across the pool. Malamin sat by a small fire, stirring a pot that was the source of the delicious scent. He smiled at her and touched his forehead with his fingers in greeting, and she returned the gesture.
Sage tossed the blanket aside and headed for the spring to wash her hands and face, then rinsed sleep and desert grit from her mouth. Her stomach begged for food, but she made herself drink first. When she stood, Malamin held up a small bowl, and she tripped over her own feet in her eagerness to accept it. The meat in the stew appeared to be from some kind of bird, almost chicken-like in taste, and the grain swimming in the broth resembled barley. She drank it down, pausing only to accept a spoon. Nothing had ever tasted so delicious.
As soon as she finished, her bowl was refilled, and she picked out a piece of the meat. “What this?” she asked.
“Vargun,” he answered, producing a flat board on which a leathery skin was drying. Malamin smiled at her surprised expression. In all their years of living outdoors, Father had never suggested eating snakes. Sage shrugged and raised the bowl in salute before digging in again. First time for everything.
She finished her second helping much slower and forced herself not to ask for more. Her stomach was already protesting after being empty for so long. Darit and several others returned, carrying a few desert hares. Nicholas sat up and looked around like he was trying to remember where he was.
The Casmuni tossed the rabbits to Malamin, who pulled out a knife and started skinning, then went to the pool to drink and refill their waterskins. Darit approached her and touched his fingers to his forehead as Malamin had and offered her a hand up. “Saizsch,” he said solemnly.
“Darit,” she said, putting her hand over her heart. “I wish thank you,” she said in Casmuni. “For our safe.”
He smiled at her awkward speech. “I am well thanked. Please come with me now.” Taking hold of her arm, he gently pulled her in the direction he’d come from. Nicholas made to follow, but she shook her head. The Casmuni brought her to the edge of the trees where two of his men stood on either side of a third man on his knees. At Darit’s nod, the bound man’s gag was loosened.
The man dressed and looked like a Demoran, but from the hate in his blue-gray eyes, she knew he was Kimisar.
His clothes were wet with the blood of a wound in his side, and her hand unconsciously went to the knife on her belt.
“Why did you attack us? Why did you pursue us?” she demanded in her own language.
“I am only returning the favor,” he answered. “One enemy to another.”
He spoke Demoran. Very well, too.
She gripped the handle of her dagger. “Why were you in Demora?”
He sneered. “We came on invitation. We remained because of betrayal.”
“Is Kimisara planning an invasion?”
“How would I know? I’ve not been home in over a year.”
Sage blinked. “You’ve been here”—she remembered here was not actually Demora anymore but continued—“since last year? Why?”
The man snorted. “Do you think your king would let us leave?”
“Why did you attack the Norsari camp?”
The man turned his eyes away.
“Answer me.”