The Lodestone Trilogy (Limited Edition) (The Lodestone Series) (23 page)

The song did indeed last a while, with partners joining and leaving as they willed. As the final chords were sounded, Shann thanked Lyall and excused herself so she could seek out a cup of narrian wine, the light refreshing liquor brewed by the nomads. Shann had developed a real taste for it. She had a theory that the wine was a principal reason for the nomad’s perpetual good humour. It certainly seemed to have a comparable effect on her. She found a trestle on which a small barrel had been set up, and helped herself to a full cup. The light was starting to fade, making the bonfire a focal point of the celebration. She sipped her drink, looking round at the revellers and allowing the fresh sweet flavours to refresh and invigorate her. The music was already starting up again, and couples were forming. A nagging thought tugged at the back of her mind like a persistent gundir, threatening to shatter her growing bonhomie. She thrust it away, but it came back snapping at her, finally breaking through her consciousness
. Keris. Where is she?

Shann heightened her perception as she scanned the gathering of nomads, trying to pick out the tall, dark-haired woman. She was nowhere to be seen. Leaving her cup on the table, she headed away from the circle of firelight, towards their newly acquired wagon at the rear of the train. She looked around it; then went to the back. Pulling aside the flap, she poked her head inside. She allowed her eyes to get accustomed to the dimness, and raked every corner with her eyes.
Nothing.

She made her way back towards the fire where food and drink were being passed around and the party was once again in full swing. Lyall was chatting amiably to the rotund figure of Zamir and his partner, who was called Anka. Shann started towards them. Then from between two wagons, she saw a tall dark figure approaching the edge of the gathering. Keris glided forward and sat on the ground by herself, unnoticed by the others. Shann stopped in her tracks.

Her first instinct was to tell Lyall, and for them both to then go to the woman and confront her. However, Keris was far too clever for that. Shann was certain that she would be able to come up with a lying but perfectly plausible reason for her absence. Or she might deny it utterly, claiming it was nothing more than Shann’s fevered imagination. In any case, leaving a festive occasion was not a crime. She
was
up to something; Shann was convinced of that. But her gut feeling was not evidence and would only sound to Lyall like unfounded suspicion or petulance. Worse than that, she would have tipped her hand to the Keltar, letting her know she was being watched. Shann needed more information–more evidence–before she could approach Lyall.

Watch and wait. You are crafty. But sooner or later you will make a mistake.

Shann started forward once more, towards the music and laughter, forsaking deceitful shadows for the unalloyed probity of the light.

<><><><><>

Chapter 14

The covered wagon, flanked by three riders, swept across the Eastern Plains like a stone flung across a golden pond. Alondo drove the wagon, urging the graylesh on, so that the wagon’s wheels bounced and spun over the rough track. Keris rode on one side; Shann and Lyall on the other. Shann was dressed in a loose fitting brown tunic and trousers that Lyall had procured for her at the nomad’s camp. She had ditched the tribute’s coverall, as well as her old set of clothes that she had had with her since Corte. It felt satisfying, like dispensing with two unwanted personas, the kitchen hand and the slave. She was glad to see the backs of them both.

Other than during her flight from Corte, Shann had never ridden a graylesh before and was a little nervous of the skittish creatures at first. Alondo, who seemed to have assumed responsibility for the animals’ welfare, selected the one that seemed most placid and gave her a quick lesson. It had not taken her long to get the hang of it, and she found that she was able to keep pace with the others easily. She loved the feel of the wind caressing her hair, the steady loping rhythm of the animal’s stride and the constantly changing landscape.

Slow moving herds of raleketh crossed their path, heading north on their seasonal migration, juveniles who had yet to develop spots trotting beside their speckled parents. Mylar birds wheeled far overhead, as if tracking their progress. She spotted other creatures she could not name. A flock of birds with iridescent wings of green and blue rose as one from a nearby lake, their flapping like a round of applause. Cute creatures with large ears and pointed snouts scampered away into the long grass. “Jarka,” Lyall told her. “Good eating.” He smiled at her look of disgust.

The sight of the helpless creatures brought back to her mind the tributes at Gort, and she felt a pang of guilt.
We will be back for you all.
That was what she had promised them. Now she was headed farther and farther away. But the truth was she could not free them on her own. She had to have Lyall and Alondo’s help, which meant convincing them that this woman was a liar.

Keris pulled back to the wagon’s rear and crossed to Lyall and Shann’s side, catching up to Lyall’s mount and riding alongside. “There is a stream off to the left. I suggest we stop and rest the graylesh for a while. According to the map, we will soon be at the fork where the trail splits. One way continues east, the other south-east. Taking the south-east route will bring us close by the tower.”

“Very well…
Alondo,
” Lyall called out, raising a hand.

“Yes?”

“We’re taking a break.”

Alondo pulled firmly on the reins. “Whoa.” Slowly he brought the wagon to a halt. “My graylesh thanks you and my buttocks thank you.” He rubbed them, as if to illustrate the point. “Couldn’t someone put in proper roads? Or at least invent a cushioned buckboard?”

“If we run across a town or a trading post out here, I’ll buy one for you.” Lyall promised.

Alondo jumped down and bowed expansively. When he drew himself erect, there was a twinkle in his eye beneath his ever-present cap. “Why, thank you. That is why you are such a good leader. You always put the comfort of your troops first.”

Keris pulled her mount away, wordlessly. Lyall swung himself down from the graylesh, and Shann followed suit. She patted its striped sides, talking to it gently as she had gotten into the habit of doing. Then she addressed Lyall. “How far are we across the plains?”

“Why don’t you ask the one with the map?” he asked innocently. Without waiting for her reply he answered, “A little less than half way, I think. Why, are you getting aches and pains, too?”

She smiled at him. “Not me. I could ride the plains for the rest of my life.” They led the sleek animals in the direction of the stream that Keris had indicated. They had only got a short way, when they heard Keris’ voice behind them.

“
It’s gone
.”

They turned around. Keris was rifling through her saddle pack. She looked agitated. “What’s the matter?” Lyall called after her.

“My pack with my cloak and the other lodestone devices; it’s been taken.”

Lyall was frowning. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” she snapped back impatiently. “They were there this morning, just before we…
the nomads. They stole them
.” Keris muttered a curse. “We have to turn back,
now
.”

Boxx was standing next to Alondo, who was quietly watching the exchange. Without warning Alondo bent over and reached into the wagon, producing something with a flourish. “Is this it?”

Keris’ eyes were wide and her nostrils flared. “What are
you
doing with my stuff?” She sounded dangerous.

“Well, I saw one of the nomads going to your pack and ‘acquiring’ some of your things, so I sort of ‘acquired’ them back… Oh, and you’re quite welcome.”

Keris walked up and took the pack he offered. “Thank you.”

Lyall and Shann were both trying to suppress a giggle. “Actually, I do seem to remember
someone
saying we should watch ourselves with those people,” Alondo recalled.

Keris grinned in spite of herself. Lyall and Shann turned and resumed their course to the stream, breaking out into paroxysms of laughter as they went. Keris shook her head. “You do know you’re nothing but a great big child, don’t you?”

“Guilty as charged,” Alondo replied happily.

~

Saccath drew his arm back and struck Zamir with the back of his hand. The force of the blow snapped the caravan chief’s head to the side. White blood and spittle flew from the side of his mouth, and the heavy man sagged to his knees. The dark-robed Keltar loomed over him like a presage of doom. Then he turned on his heel and strode over to where two more Keltar waited. A couple of soldiers moved in and picked Zamir up from under his arms, dragging him backwards. They deposited him in a heap beside one of the wagons, where Anka and three small children were cowering.

Saccath took a cloth from his pocket and wiped his hands with a look of distaste, as if he were cleaning off excrement. The other two Keltar watched as he performed the small ceremony. One was young and thin, with straight fair hair, tied back. His mouth was angled wickedly and his eyes were set too close together. The other was shorter than both of them, slightly stooped, face hidden by a hood. “Well?” The hooded figure inquired.

Saccath tossed the cloth away. “The chief admits to aiding and abetting the fugitives who attacked the compound at Gort. He sold them fresh animals and supplies. He claims he didn’t know who they were, and that he wouldn’t have traded with them if he had known. Personally, I think his kind would do anything to line their pockets.”

“Are you certain it was them?” the one with the hood probed.

“There can be no doubt of it,” Saccath affirmed. “Two men and two women: the impostor and the girl who was his accomplice in Corte, the woman Keris and another man whose description I did not recognise; a musician, of all things. The first three bore the cloak and wielded the staff of Keltar. They even hunted with these people as Keltar.”

The thin young man’s expression turned to disgust. “
They must be stopped
.”

“Patience, Nikome,” Saccath soothed. “What I want to know is why would a genuine Keltar join up with the likes of them?”

“That is not your concern.” The mouth moved beneath the hood. “Did you learn which way they were headed?”

Saccath nodded once. “They parted company where the river Talar turns north. The fugitives continued due east from that point.”

“How long ago?”

“Just this morning,” Saccath reported. “It should be a simple matter to overtake them. Should we eliminate them or take them into custody?”

The hooded face remained half in gloom. “For now your orders are to track their progress but maintain a distance. Do not attempt to engage them.”

Saccath’s brow furrowed. “May I ask why?”

“It is the Prophet’s orders.” The stooped figure raised a hand slightly, as if to display the speaking Ring which encircled an index finger. The other two caught the significance of the gesture, and bowed their heads in deference.

The last rays of Ail-Gan were clinging desperately to the eastern horizon; soon the bright white point that was Ail-Kar would share its fate, leaving Ail-Mazzoth’s dull red orb in sole possession of the sky.

The hooded Keltar turned from the caravan and walked away. Saccath called after the retreating form. “What shall we do with these?”

The dark outline stopped and half turned towards the other two, so that a face could be seen, a profile deep in shadow.

“Burn them!”

~

Lyall stood with Shann at his side, their eyes transfixed on the distant horizon.

“
Keris,
” Lyall called over his shoulder. Shann felt a surge of irritation at the woman’s inclusion, but said nothing. Keris came and stood on Lyall’s other side.

Lyall pointed out across the golden veldt. “What do you make of that? A prairie fire?”

Keris shielded her eyes and looked intently at where Lyall was indicating. “I don’t think so; the smoke rises thin and straight.”

“A camp fire then?”

“I think so…it seems that we are being followed.” Keris lowered her hand, turning to Lyall. “I will scout back and find out who it is.”