Quint grunted something approximating a laugh.
Tal said, “We’re downhill from a big range of mountains.” He stopped a moment, wiping his brow, then continued. “It rains up there a lot, and this part of the countryside is like a bloody big bowl that doesn’t drain quite as fast as it fills up, no matter what the weather’s like.” He pointed in the direction they were moving. “But out there, somewhere, it is draining, and when we find a good-sized stream coming out of this mess, it’ll lead us to the river.”
Quint nodded. “If what I remember from the maps of the area is right, we should be hitting the river in a day or two.”
“How are we getting across?” asked Visniya.
“There are fords,” said Quint. “Quite a few, not well-known, but reports list them. When we get to the riverbank we turn downstream. We should find one in a couple of days.”
“If a patrol doesn’t find us first,” said Stolinko. He was a dour man who didn’t talk much. Tal wasn’t quite sure what Stolinko had done to offend Kaspar, but he had turned out to be a tough, reliable type who did his share of work without complaint.
Quint said, “Our patrols don’t come this far inland. No need.” He waved his hand around. “See any reason to guard this?”
They were out of food, and there was nothing obviously edible in sight, so they staggered on, hoping to leave the bog soon. Around midafternoon, Tal said, “I think we’re heading into deeper water.”
The others noticed that the water was up around their knees.
“The trees are thinning out,” said Masterson.
Tal said to Quint. “You’ve never been up here before?”
“Not here. I’ve inspected the garrison at City of the Guardian and ridden a patrol inland, but nothing this far out.”
“Wait here a minute,” Tal said.
He circled around them for the better part of twenty minutes, then returned, and said, “The water is moving that way.” He pointed to the east.
“What does that mean?” asked Visniya.
“It means the river is that way,” said Tal. He headed off in the indicated direction.
They began hitting drier ground in an hour, and as sundown neared, they found the land rising ahead of them and to the right, and the bog draining off to the left, feeding what was clearly a wide but moving body of water. “Let’s camp up there for the night,” said Tal, pointing to an elevation that should prove dry. “Then tomorrow we’ll follow this water and see where it leads us.”
They made a cold camp, without even any food, so it was a tired and unhappy band that awoke the next morning and set off. As Tal had predicted, the water became a stream, which ran quickly downhill. Two hours after they had started, they came over a rise and saw the river.
Tal studied the landscape. “I see no signs of anyone else being around here.”
“We’re too far east for patrols,” said Quint. “This is no-man’s country. The army doesn’t patrol because even the smugglers avoid it.”
“Why?” asked Stolinko.
Quint said, “No one knows. Rumors. Bands of inhuman monsters, or wild primitives who eat human flesh.” He saw the expressions on his companions’ faces and laughed. “Those are stories. There are some people living around here—the gods only know why they do—but mostly no one comes here because this land is worthless.” He pointed to the river. “Across the river is Bardac’s. There’s a pretty little coastline over there, and a thousand square miles of land even a pig farmer couldn’t use. Bogs worse than the one we just left, salt flats, pine barrens, marshes, who knows what else? Everything in Bardac’s worth taking is within fifty miles of the coast. The only exception is the city of Qulak, which guards the pass leading into Aranor. You’ve got a road from Karesh’kaar to there and also from Bishop’s Point up north on the coast. One road from Karesh’kaar to Traitor’s Cove to Bishop’s Point. So there you have it, four cities, three roads, and about a hundred jumped-up bandit chieftains calling themselves Baron this and Count that.
“Whenever someone tried to build anything this side of the river, bandits from across the river came down and took it. That’s why everything worth talking about in Olasko is down south,” said Quint.
“So you think we’ll have no trouble getting across the river?” asked Tal.
“Oh, getting across may be the least of our problems,” said Quint. He looked at his companions. “A band of seventeen men might have been enough to prevent us from getting jumped, but the first band of rogues or the first ‘noble’ we blunder into”—he shrugged—“they’ll cut our throats first, then discover we have nothing worth stealing. The bastards won’t even apologize afterward.”
“Well, let’s stop talking about it and get down there,” said Masterson.