The Dreaming Hunt (36 page)

“By all means, dear Gabrielle. I shall look forward to your letters.”

*   *   *

The cloaked figure crouched behind a refuse heap, nearly bowled over by the foul odor while the quarry slipped into the inn. It was no surprise that the target had chosen such a seedy establishment in the worst corner of Dupree to spend the night. Some of Anton's most disreputable associates seemed to favor this place. The cloaked watcher slipped farther into the bowels of the narrow alley, settling in for what would likely be a long night of fruitless surveillance while the quarry was peacefully abed, snoring. But such was the nature of the work.

A strong arm snaked out of nowhere, and a hand slapped sharply over the watcher's mouth. A sharp yank, and two cloaks tangled in dark folds of shadow on shadow.

“Very funny, One.”

“Glad you're amused, Three.”

“Your target's in the Boar's Tusk, too?”

“Aye. Yours?”

“Just slipped in.”

“And he's Coil for sure?”

Three answered scornfully. “I walked right up to him in the market and saw the snake mark wrapping all around his forearm.”

“Did you get close enough to see if it's a tattoo or a ritual mark?”

“Ritual. No tattoo artist could achieve such detail or richness of color—”

“I do not need a critical analysis of the thing's artistic value,” One snapped.

“You asked.”

They subsided side by side in silence and darkness for several minutes. Three ventured, “How long until Two shows up here, do you think?”

“I give it an hour. His target looked the type to enjoy the pleasures of a lady before retiring for the night.”

“It does not seem fair that we have to sit out here in the cold and stench while the Coil's worst sleep like babes.”

“You want their treasure? And to catch Anton's attention? Then we do the dirty work.”

A sigh. “I know. It just gets old sometimes.”

“Eyes on the prize.”

A noise at the end of the alley made them both freeze abruptly. A swift shadow moved, and then Two stood before them, likewise cloaked in layers of dark, concealing wool.

Three commented dryly, “My eyes spy Number Two.”

One chuckled.

“Did I miss something?” Two asked low.

“Nothing that bears repeating. Your Coil target also looks to be bedding down for the night at the Boar's Tusk, then?”

“Nay. He met another Coil type: a man slipping in through the city gates just as they were closed for the night.”

One and Three stood up straight in interest. “Do tell,” One commented mildly.

“A fourth Coil agent. I caught a glimpse of his wrist, and there's a snake head on the underside of it. He and my target were thick as thieves, if you'll pardon the expression. Whispered with their heads together all through supper and over more than a few pints of ale.”

“Any hint as to what they hunt for Anton?”

“Nay, but Anton wants it bad. He's offering a king's ransom for it. The fourth fellow has apparently provisioned a wagon for the four of them to travel in secrecy into the west. They leave in the morn.”

“Where to exactly?” Three bit out.

“No idea. But they plan to go disguised as gypsies.”

“Disguise, is it? Subterfuge for the Coil? That is new behavior for them. Cursed inconvenient they must find it having to hide like the common criminals they are now that their leader has been deposed.”

Three subsided, slouching against the dank stone wall. Anton's associates had spent the past two decades establishing a criminal network that stretched the width and breadth of Dupree. In some ways, Anton was more powerful now that he was no longer governor, for any pretense of acting lawfully was no longer necessary. He and the Coil could rage across the colony with no one to stop them. Why then would they bother with all this secrecy and skulking about having clandestine meetings? Clearly, Anton had some big new enterprise in mind. And if the three of them were clever and moved fast, they might place themselves squarely in the middle of it.

Stars knew, the new governess would not stop Anton. Poor woman had no idea the viper's nest she'd stepped into. A fitting analogy given that Coil members identified themselves by snake markings upon their hands or wrists. Excepting Anton, of course. His was clear as day in the middle of his forehead. A bold man, he was, to advertise his affiliation with the Coil so openly.

“We should go back to our room, then and ready for a journey,” One was saying. “We have a date with four snakebit gypsies.”

Three snorted. It was not as if they had much packing to do. They all traveled light so they could move fast. They would figure out what this Coil team sought, and the three of them would beat the Coil to it. And then, when they had something Anton would pay dearly to have, they would have a conversation with the former governor and come to an agreement.

 

CHAPTER

19

Raina sighed in relief as Shepard's Rest came into view. It had been a long and tiring afternoon traversing the Unicorn Run, an ancient road that ran through the heart of the Wylde Wold. Will had practically run from Hickory Hollow, and his long-legged stride had been nigh impossible to keep up with. It reminded her of traveling with her kindari friend Cicero. His kind seemed to feel a deeply annoying need to run nearly everywhere they went.

But nobody in the party was about to ask Will to slow down. They all understood too well the demons digging their spurs into his sides this day.

The party had agreed to splurge and stay at an inn tonight. It would be their last chance for a hot meal and more importantly, a hot bath, from here on out. Shepard's Rest lay at the western edge of the Wylde Wold, the far terminus of the last Imperial trade route east of the Estarran Sea.

Oh, the Emperor claimed the whole continent of Haelos, and quite loudly. But where the presence of soldiers ended, so did the Empire's effective control. Tyrel, where she hailed from, lay across the Estarran Sea in the west. The only time her people ever saw the slightest evidence of the Empire was when tax collectors came through every other year or so.

A few settlements, mostly of indigenous peoples, lay inland, farther south and west than Tyrel, but dangerous journeys were necessary to reach them. Would Kerryl take his captives beyond even the scattered settlements in the west?

The party discussed the question in detail as they drew close to Shepard's Rest. A few things they agreed upon: their prey would be on foot. Also, Kendrick's captor would likely stick to the forests in which he was most at home, which meant he might be more inclined to head north rather than west once he left Imperial-controlled territories.

Although Rynn carried considerable funds in his pouch, they had agreed as a group to draw as little attention as possible to themselves and to travel humbly as hired messengers delivering various letters and notices. To that end, Eben actually had letters for the local Merchant's Guild representative in Shepard's Rest. Aurelius had scared up some long-lost relative of the local innkeeper's and offered to write down a letter for him. That scroll rested in Will's pouch now.

Dusk was falling as they trooped up the wide steps of the inn from which the tiny village took its name. Raina noted the thickness of the stone walls and the stoutness of the iron hinges on the door. This was not an entirely safe place to live, apparently, last vestiges of the Haelan legion or no.

A dozen travelers ranged around the room in twos and threes, eating and drinking. Raina's stomach growled, announcing that the dinner hour had come and passed on the road.

A big, muscular man came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on an apron and flashing the wicked dagger tucked in his belt as he did so. “Welcome to the Shepard's Rest. Whot'll ye be wantin' this eve?”

Eben answered for all of them. “Supper and a pint for me and my friends. And then a pair of rooms if you've got 'em.”

“Female folk in one and menfolk in the other,” the innkeeper warned. “I run a respectable place, I do. That'll be three silver, five copper for the lot.”

“Perfect,” Eben replied, counting out the coins carefully.

Raina noticed other heads in the room rising to listen to the chink emanating from Eben's pouch. Ahh.
That
was why Rynn had passed a handful of small coins to Eben before they'd entered the village. Had Rynn dug around in his much larger pouch filled with gold, they would have been at greater risk of being robbed. As it was, Eben's pouch made a pitifully small clink, and interest from the other patrons waned at the paltry sound.

They piled onto benches at a long table in the shadows by the stairs. This summer had been unseasonably cold and wet, and it felt more like a fall evening than a late summer night. The cheerful warmth of the fire was welcome.

Raina shed her cloak and was the immediate center of attention for every pair of eyes in the room. They'd talked about it before they reached Shepard's Rest. If she were seen here and then heard to mention heading in some direction other than the one they actually chose, they might be able to throw off any followers.

“Oy. Be ye White Heart in truth?” a man across the room asked.

“Aye, sir. Have you need of healing?” she asked patiently.

“Well, now that ye mention it…”

Behind her, she heard Will ask their host, “Have you seen a woodsman by the name of Adrick pass through lately?”

“Nay, lad. Not since the Boki attack last year. Word has it he was killed by that green scum.”

“He dinna resurrect, then?”

She smiled to hear how quickly Will had fallen back into the local cadences of the region. She would likely do the same if she ever returned to Tyrel. Not that she ever planned for that to happen. Not until the Mages of Alchizzadon were long gone and had no more interest in her.

“Mayhap he moved along to greener forests.” A pause, and then the innkeeper asked kindly, “Adrick a friend of thine?”

“Aye.”

“Good man, Adrick. Any friend of his be a friend of mine.”

Will fell silent, and Raina spied Rosana slipping her hand into Will's under the table. He hadn't spoken much of this Adrick fellow—a sure sign that his death had hurt Will more than he wanted to let on.

Raina made the rounds of the common room and was asked to go down the street to a hut where a woman was too ill to come for healing. Her male companions exchanged glances, and Rynn rose to his feet to follow.

The crofter's hut and its occupants were fully as miserable as she'd become accustomed to. The Kothites did not believe in sharing any of their prosperity with the peasants upon whose backs their mighty empire was built. She healed the middle-aged woman of a chronic case of fluid on the lungs.

As she straightened from the woman's sickbed, the woman's hand shot out to capture Raina's wrist. “Beware the wilds,” the woman whispered. “Something's a-comin' from 'em. Gonna cause a powerful lot o' upheaval afore all's said an' done.”

“Are you a seer, then?” Raina asked, startled.

“I catches a glimpse beyon' the Veil now and again. I see swords a-swipin' through chains. Blood. War.” She shook her head as if to clear the image from her mind.

Raina nodded grimly. Whatever rose to oppose Koth was gathering momentum. The prophecies were coming fast and close now. Apparently, seers all across the land and of every skill level were catching bits and pieces of the coming rebellion. She and her friends had best hurry if they were to wake Gawaine in time for him to lead them to freedom.

“Thank you for the warning, madam. Take care of your family, and I will take care of mine.”

Out of general principles, she asked the eldest son, a lad of maybe twelve summers, to show her to the low, thatched barn behind the cottage. “Do any of your animals ail?” she asked him.

“The milch goat ain't been doin' so great,” he replied doubtfully.

Thank goodness. Goats she could do. Chickens and other domestic foul still mostly confounded her to heal. Something about their spirits was different enough from human that her magic did not seem to affect them in the same way.

“Let's surprise your mother and heal the goat, shall we?” she murmured to the youth.

“Really? They's been fretting about her.”

The boy's goodwill secured, she laid her hands on the coarse-haired creature and commenced trickling healing slowly into the goat. While she did so, she asked conversationally, “I think a friend of mine might have passed through here a few weeks ago. Do you perchance see any of the travelers who come here?”

“I see 'em all. Remember 'em, too, I do. What does your friend look like?”

“He's about twenty summers in age. Tall, handsome youth. Travelling with a bearded man, and maybe a few others.”

“I remember them. Two men who looked just alike, and an elf girl was with 'em. She were pretty. Snooty, though, like all elves.”

Raina refrained from comment on that pithy observation and asked, “How long ago was it you saw this party?”

“They been through twice. First time were mebbe a moon cycle and a half moon ago. Second time were, lemme see…” He counted laboriously on his fingers. “Five days past. Movin' fast, they was. Bought a pile o' dry rations at the store and didn't stay but mebbe a quarter hour.”

Less than a week's head start Kendrick and Kerryl Moonrunner had on them? That was good news, indeed. “Did you happen to see which direction they went?” she asked.

“West. Out into the wilds they said they was goin'. I mighta hid behind the hedge beside the inn and listened in on 'em a bit,” the youth admitted shamefacedly.

Raina was tempted to throw her arms around the boy and give him a big hug. But she remembered Justin at that age, and he'd have hated being hugged by a girl. She settled for saying enthusiastically, “You did wonderfully. Thank you so much! I would love ever so much to see my friend. If he ever passes through here again, maybe you would give him a message for me?”