And I was.
We made the crossing that night. As we drew closer to the river town, Vindeliar left the sleigh. He mounted a horse and rode at the head of our procession beside Ellik. And later that morning, when we finally reached a forested area of the foothills and made a camp, Ellik bragged to all about how simple it had been. “And now we are on the northern side of the Buck River, with little between us and our goal but a few small towns and the hills. As I told you. The bridge was our best choice.”
And Dwalia smiled and agreed.
But if she and Vindeliar had tricked him into choosing the bridge instead of the ferry, it still did not make our journey through the hills any easier. He had been right about the sleighs. Dwalia insisted we must do our best to avoid roads, and so the soldiers and their horses broke trail for the heavier beasts that pulled the sleigh. Our passage was not easy and I could tell that Ellik chafed at how little we moved forward each night.
Shun and I had little time to speak privately. “They mentioned a ship,” she said to me once as we crouched in the bushes, relieving ourselves. “That may give us a chance of escape, even if we must leap into the water. Whatever happens, we must not let them take us out to sea.”
And I agreed with that, but wondered if we would have any opportunity to flee our captors.
I was slowly recovering, but the poor food and the constant travel and sleeping cold made me feel as if they created an illness of their own. One evening as we rose to commence our route, I felt almost dizzy with hunger for something more sustaining than porridge. As I followed Shun from the tent to the fireside, I spoke carelessly to her. “I’m going to die soon if I don’t get a real meal.”
Several of the others halted and turned to stare at me. Alaria lifted a hand to cover her mouth. I ignored the gawkers. As always, the luriks had built two campfires, one for us and one for the soldiers. The luriks did all the cooking, but there was no shared meal at the end of the day’s rest. Always two of them carried a steaming pot of the porridge they cooked and left it with the soldiers. We always ate separately. Tonight the soldiers had killed something and were roasting it over the fire. Their fire was closer to ours than it usually was, for the clearing we were in was small. The meat smelled very good, and I snuffed at the hearty scent on the cold night air.
Careful of that, too, Wolf-Father warned me. I looked around our fireside and then frowned to myself. “Where is Vindeliar?” I asked.
“He goes ahead of us. We must travel on the roads tonight. We will pass through a little town and he goes to smooth the way for us,” Dwalia told me.
I decided that she only spoke to me in the hope of having me say something back to her. I took a chance. I sniffed, loudly. “The meat smells good,” I said and gave a small sigh.
Dwalia folded her lips. “A serving of that meat would cost more than any here are willing to pay,” she said sourly.
I had not realized that the soldiers had been listening in. One brayed a boorish laugh. “For a piece of meat from the Buck woman we’ll give you a piece of this rabbit!” Then they all laughed. Shun had taken a seat beside me on the log. She huddled into herself, going smaller. Panic grew in me. She was the adult whom my father had bade look after me. I could not tell if the look on her face was anger or fear. But if she was afraid, how much more terrified should I be? It made me more frightened than I’d ever been, and somehow angrier, too. I stood up.
“No!” I shouted the word at the leering men. “That never happens in any future I see. Not even the one in which her hidden father leaves every one of you in bloody shreds!” I swayed, sat down suddenly, and would have fallen if Shun had not caught me as I collapsed toward her. I felt sick. I had given away a piece of my power. I had not meant to share that dream. It still made no sense to me. They had not been men in the dream but pennants, hung in tattered shreds from a laundry line, dripping blood. A dream that made no sense. I could not have said why I mentioned a hidden father.
“Shaysim!”
There was shock in Dwalia’s tone. I turned my face toward her. I looked into her disapproving eyes and tried to appear like a younger child surprised in mischief.
“Shaysim, it is not our way to speak dreams to any who might be listening. Dreams are precious and private things, our guideposts to the many paths that exist. Choosing among the paths requires great knowledge. When we reach Clerres you will learn many things. One of the most important things will be to record your dreams privately or only with a scribe chosen for you.”