Kyra considered his words. Craigson did live close to Edlan, and he bore no particular loyalty to its Duke. “I’ll go speak with him.”
Though the trader camp lay outside the line of Edlan soldiers, Kyra wasn’t surprised to find them readying their wagons to leave. A potential battlefield wasn’t exactly the best place to winter. Craigson was bundling up cooking supplies when Kyra arrived, and he beckoned her closer.
“I’m glad you found us,” he said. “I was regretting having to leave without a final word with you.”
“I’m afraid I’m not here to talk about my past,” said Kyra. “Things have become more complicated since then.”
“Aye, it has. What might I do for you, then?”
Craigson listened with sharp-eyed intelligence as Kyra told him what had happened. “We’d like to avert a war,” she said. “Do you think we could stall the army by stopping their caravans?”
“I reckon you could,” he said. “The Edlan army gets its supplies from wagon trains that come down from the north. The trains are heavily armed, of course, but man for man they’d be easier to go up against than actual soldiers. What you really want to do is destroy the wagons along with the supplies in them. That would make it harder for them to recover.” Craigson paused to roll a bundle tight. “They’re friendly folk, the supply caravanners. I hate to think of them coming to harm, but I suppose they knew that risk when they took the job.”
“How big are the wagon trains?” asked Kyra.
“Ten to fifteen wagons, with two to four men manning each wagon.”
Kyra did some figuring in her head. One demon cat could probably handle one wagon, especially if they attacked at night. The image of demon cats leaping out of the darkness onto unsuspecting caravanners left an uneasy feeling in her stomach.
Craigson’s gaze lingered on her face, though Kyra got the impression that he was actually seeing something in his mind’s eye. “You know, your mother once led a small force against a much stronger one.”
“Did she win?” asked Kyra.
“She drove the Makvani here, didn’t she? Maikana was a strong leader.”
Kyra picked up a piece of charcoal from the fire pit and rolled it between her fingers. She knew he meant well, but Craigson’s words only made her feel smaller. “To be honest, Craigson, I’ve got enough people telling me how wonderful my ma was. Please tell me she made mistakes too.”
To her surprise, Craigson laughed. “Mistakes? Maidy, your ma’s first year as her village Guide was one mistake after another. If she hadn’t made mistakes, you wouldn’t be here.” He paused and lowered his voice. “Though she loved you dearly. It near broke her heart when she had to give you to me, and that was with the understanding that you’d be back when the drought ended.”
Kyra latched onto Craigson’s final words. “She did love me, then? She didn’t hate me, for what I was?”
Craigson’s eyes were soft with compassion. “She worried about what you’d become, but it didn’t stop her from loving you and hoping for the best. Maikana didn’t always know what to do, and she made many, many mistakes. But she loved her village, even when the villagers didn’t love her, and when she fell down, she always got up again.”
Craigson’s words reminded Kyra of the conversation she’d had with Malikel, when the Defense Minister had told her he stayed in Forge because he had work to do, despite the mistrust he faced from some. Kyra wondered about herself. Did she love Forge that much? There were certainly parts that she loved—the gutter rats, the southwest quadrant, the streets and rooftops that were as familiar to her as Flick’s laugh or Lettie’s smile. Was that enough to make it worth fighting for?
“Thank you Craigson. For everything,” she said.