the animal, she gathered the offal into the sack and tied it off. She handed the bag to Hava. ‘Someone might want the liver or kidneys for pie, and Jarman will give me a few coppers for the rest for his hogs.’
‘What about skinning it?’ asked Hava.
‘When we get back to town.’ Molly cut down the deer and with Hava’s help – though Hava thought Molly hardly needed it – she shouldered the carcass easily.
As Hava picked up the bag, Molly said, ‘Where did you learn to shoot like that?’
Falling into the almost unthinking default of lying about her past, Hava said, ‘My father taught us all. I was the oldest, so I had more time to learn.’ She paused, then added, ‘We all learned.’
Molly said nothing for a few paces then asked, ‘You didn’t hunt much, did you?’
‘A bit,’ replied Hava quickly, seeing where the conversation was heading. ‘It’s different where I’m from. We don’t have forests like these.’
‘Oh?’ Molly sounded curious.
‘My family lived on an island …’ Hava let the thought trail off as she quickly realized she didn’t know if Molly had met Master Bodai when he passed through Beran’s Hill in the role of a horse trader. That had been before Hava and Hatu returned to purchase the burned-out inn Hatu was working at restoring while Hava hunted with Molly. The story then was that her ‘father’ was a horse trader.
Hava resumed her story, making a mental note to speak with Hatu when they were alone so they could reconcile their false past history. ‘The island was small but pirates and raiders came close sometimes. We had little of worth, so they rarely troubled us, but occasionally they would take food and, if they could, prisoners they could rape or sell to slavers.
‘So we all learned the bow. We’d grab what we could and head up into the hills, leaving behind enough for the raiders so they wouldn’t risk following us. Everyone in my village did this.’
Molly glanced at Hava. ‘I was curious, because you’re a very good – or lucky – archer, but you seem completely lost in the forest.’
‘We left the island when I was young,’ said Hava, which was close to the truth. She had been barely seven years of age when she was sent to Facaria’s school. ‘Trading horses … you need to be able to defend yourself. Father didn’t like paying for guards …’ She shrugged as she let the explanation drop. One thing she had been taught in her training was not to volunteer too much information; it made keeping a false story consistent more difficult. She switched topics. ‘I admit I had just lost sight of you for a moment and was wondering how to get back to town.’
‘Most girls from town would get lost quickly … and a fair number of the boys, too.
‘I was an only child, so my father took me hunting, despite my mother being furious. I tried to learn the things my mother wanted to teach me, cooking, baking, and all that.’
Hava fell into stride with her as Molly went on, ‘I learned some of it. I can bake simple bread, cook a bit. I can’t make … whatever they call that fruit … preserves, yes; I can’t get that right. I recently opened a jar I’d stored away and it was nasty.’ She chuckled ruefully. ‘I never realized how much my mother knew until after she died.’
Hava reflected on that for a moment, realizing she’d never thought much about her own mother, a woman constantly beset by the demands of four younger siblings when Hava left. As a child, Hava had taken her mother’s efforts for granted. Then when she was at the school, those needs were met by the matrons, from wiping noses and bottoms to tending cuts and bruises, and occasionally comforting a crying child, until such time as the children learned not to cry.
Hava said, ‘My mother … I lost her before I was seven years old. I really don’t remember too much about her …’
Molly turned slightly so she could glance at Hava, then returned her attention to where they were going. ‘See that dip ahead?’
‘Yes.’
‘Follow me,’ she instructed, seemingly unburdened by the heavy deer she was carrying across her shoulders. When they reached the dip, Molly said, ‘This little rill here has been cut by run-off when it rains. Check and you’ll see which end is lower. If you get lost up here, look for a stream and follow it downhill. There’s a river on the other side of a road the baron’s family cut through here years ago, and if you follow any of them it will lead you to that road. Turn west and in less than an hour you’re back at Beran’s Hill.’
‘If there’s a road nearby, why aren’t we taking it?’
Molly chuckled. ‘Roads mean people. People mean that animals only cross at night when people aren’t around.’ She lifted her chin to her left and added, ‘That’s a game trail. See how it’s packed earth and rocks?’
Hava nodded.
‘You follow those to find game or water.’ Molly grinned. ‘You’re very good with a bow. We’ll hunt again soon and I’ll teach you some woodlore.’
‘I’d like that,’ Hava replied.
Molly took a step, then froze. Hava became motionless a second later, her training instinctively taking over so that she was ready for whatever came next. She put down the bag of entrails, silently drew an arrow from her hip quiver and nocked it to her bowstring.
Molly unloaded the deer carcass onto a small flat rock outcropping, letting her shoulder pack drop next to it; then she pulled an arrow from her quiver and nodded approval at Hava already being ready for trouble.
Hava remained motionless and silent, waiting for Molly’s instruction. Molly lifted her chin to show the direction she wished to move. Hava fell in behind her, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone was following, an old city habit.
Molly moved with purpose and Hava could tell from her posture and economy of motion that she was ready for a fight, though her quiet caution also told Hava that Molly wasn’t looking for one.
Then Hava heard what had alerted Molly. Riders approaching: the sound of them growing noticeably louder. Molly headed down a slope, then knelt low.
Hava knelt beside her and saw there was a break in the trees a dozen yards or so ahead, and beyond that, the road. Within moments the party of riders came into view, moving at an easy canter, a gait designed to cover long distances quickly without ruining the horses. As they passed, the man in front raised his arm and reined in a bit, and the horses slowed to a trot.
As they rode out of view, Molly stood up and said, ‘Come on.’
‘We’re going to follow them?’ asked Hava. ‘What about the deer?’
Molly shouldered her bow. ‘Scavengers are already on it. There are more deer to hunt.’ She pointed up the road. ‘This is more interesting.’
‘A company of mercenaries on their way to Port Colos is interesting?’
‘Did you see how they reined in on command?’ Molly asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Not mercenaries. Soldiers dressed like mercenaries. They rode in formation and reined in on a hand
