She did not understand how or why, but she believed him. She did not think he was mad. At least not completely. Unsure how to feel about that, Cas rode off. He heard, “But how—?” followed by cursing and the sound of Bittor in pursuit.
It took a good hour to reach the front of the train, which had just begun to form a single line. Ventillas and Captain Lorenz were there. Cas’ whistle brought their heads around.
“What is it?” Ventillas demanded the second Cas stopped in front of him.
Their argument loomed between them, but it would have to wait. Cas said, “We found a man and woman back that way. Killed.”
Captain Lorenz turned his horse in the direction from which Cas had come. “Killed how?”
“Lynx,” Cas answered. “Maybe more than one.”
Bittor stayed mercifully silent. Guards had gathered close to listen.
Ventillas said, “Recent?”
“I think so. Ventillas, the woman had a boil here.” Cas tapped his neck with one finger.
The royal carriage was nearby. Queen Jehan watched them through the window, the prince resting against her shoulder. King Rayan came over on horseback.
“Bad cats,” Ventillas said at the king’s look of inquiry. “I’ll take some men and ride through the cleft, make sure they’re not hiding on the ledges.”
King Rayan said, “Do you have something to add, Bittor?”
All eyes turned to Bittor, who looked as though he badly wanted to say something. Cas tensed, until Bittor shot him a look and said, “No, Your Grace.”
“Then let’s go.” Ventillas chose Cas and Bittor to accompany him, along with two archers.
They rode with their eyes peeled. In the Desfilad, the mountains rose steeply on both sides before vanishing into the clouds. The rockface was broken occasionally by ledges that jutted out, wide enough for something—an animal, a man—to crouch and watch.
When the first ledge came into view, Ventillas stopped. He said to Cas, “Do you have your sling?”
Cas reached for it. “Yes.”
“Good. Shoot the rocks by that ledge. Make it noisy.”
One of the archers said doubtfully, “If they’re asleep, should we wake them?”
“Better they wake now than later,” Ventillas said, “when the queen and the prince pass through.”
Cas took aim. The resulting shot sent rocks raining down onto the road in front of them. Ventillas held up a hand for silence. There was no sound from the ledge. After some minutes, Ventillas motioned them forward.
Cas did the same with the second ledge and the third. By the time they rode past the eighth ledge, he could feel the looks from the other men, especially Bittor, who rode beside him.
“I’m not mad,” Cas said to himself, not realizing until it was too late that he had spoken aloud, and Bittor had heard.
“Are you sure?” Bittor asked. “Because I’m beginning to think—”
A lynx sprang from the ninth ledge, so suddenly the horses reared in fright. Bittor flew off his piebald and landed in the dirt.
Ventillas shouted, “Archers!”
The lynx was no easy target. It sprang from the ledge to one directly opposite, claws scraping for purchase before it leapt straight at the first archer, whose arrow missed by inches. The second archer came to the rescue. His arrow struck the lynx in the neck. A thud followed. By then, two more cats had appeared on a ledge. Hissing, they skidded down the mountain in a shower of pebbles and rocks. Cas aimed his sling, but a clear shot was impossible. He vaulted from his horse, grabbed the mace at his back, and waited for them to come to him. The blood beat in his ears.
And then Ventillas was there.
He rode in front of Cas. From his bow, two arrows flew as one. Both lynx fell over dead. Ventillas whipped his horse around to glare at Cas, furious. “Get on your horse!” he yelled.
Three lynx dead. The piper had said there were three. Breathing hard, Cas raised a hand to say yes, yes, he understood, then reached down and pulled Bittor to his feet. “Anything broken?”
“No,” Bittor said, blood on his lip. “Did you see that? Two arrows at the same time! How—?”
Behind him came the sound of brush rustling. With a yelp, Cas swung the mace upward, catching the lynx in the chest as it sprang from a hidden cave at ground level. Cas and Bittor stared at the dead cat, then at each other, mouths agape.
Ventillas yanked Cas around. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” Cas said, heart pounding. Where had that fourth cat come from?
His brother muttered something rude. Cas was given such a thorough inspection that he felt his face turning red. “Ventillas,” he grumbled, aware the others watched.
Ventillas saw them too. He stepped back. “Not a boy anymore,” he murmured. “I forget.” Turning away, he said, “Not too close,” when Bittor would have ventured over to the animals for a better look. “There are other ledges. We clear them all.”
They continued on, inspecting the ledges and checking behind shrubs. Bittor rode beside Cas, who could feel his stare boring into his left ear. Finally, Cas said, “What?”
“You’ve ripped the sleeve on that cloak,” Bittor informed him. “Already. Leave it with me tonight. I’ll fix it for you.”
Startled, Cas turned his head, but Bittor, who came from a family of wool merchants in the north, stared straight in front of him. Cas inspected his torn sleeve. The offer was a thank-you of sorts. Cas would not turn it down. He liked this cloak.
Ventillas rode ahead of them. Alone. His brother, whose first duty had always been to keep him safe. Climbing the aqueduct, shooting the lynx. Those were just a few. Suddenly, Cas understood why Faro would never have boarded a ship in the south.
And even now, seeing how you look at me, I don’t regret it. I would do it again.
Remorse filled him, sharp and pinching.
When they reached the end of the Desfilad, they retraced their steps and set fire to the corpses. They did not return to the others until every lynx had burned to ash.
21
The following day the rains came. It poured and it poured, turning the roads to muddy rivers and trapping two food wagons in the muck.
Every other word uttered by Ventillas was a curse as he joined the men trying to pull the wagons free. He shouted orders at Cas, who rode to the front of the train and rapped on a carriage window.
King Rayan pulled aside the covering, his clothes enviously dry. He took one look at Cas, every inch of him drenched, and winced in sympathy. “You’re a miserable sight! Analena, a towel!”
Cas grinned, shaking his head and spraying rainwater everywhere. “It’s no use! Ventillas says we can’t stay out here much longer. There’s a castle, not far that way.” He pointed. “It’s abandoned. We’ll make camp there until this blows over.”
“Abandoned?” Queen Jehan sat across from Faustina, who held the sleeping prince. “Is it safe?”
“I’ll ride there now and clear it. If there’s a problem, I’ll come back.”