they turn south, they’re the baron’s.’
‘If they don’t, they’re someone else’s.’
‘Interesting?’
Hava nodded, her expression conceding Molly’s point. ‘Very.’
Molly started to move up the road at a fast walk, and as Hava caught up they both broke into a jogging run.
THEY MANAGED TO STAY CLOSE enough to the riders to keep them in earshot, as the soldiers disguised as mercenaries were travelling at a modest trot and the women were alternately running and jogging. Finally, when the sound of hoofbeats stopped, Molly glanced at Hava and gestured that they should move into the trees and keep following out of sight.
After skirting the road for a few minutes, Hava glimpsed the riders through the trees. The two young women retreated upslope a little more, staying low behind brush and fallen tree trunks. When the baron had had the road cleared, most of the timber not harvested – mainly mounds of branches and an occasional diseased bole – had simply been dragged uphill on either side, providing several convenient places for an ambush, or to spy.
Molly crouched, put her cheek next to Hava’s and asked, ‘What do you think?’
Hava observed how the riders organized themselves: two feeding horses out of nosebags while four others stood in a circle in discussion. One walked a short distance back down the road, apparently to see if they were being followed. Hava said, ‘They’re meeting someone.’
‘How do you know?’
‘If they were just pausing to rest the horses they’d walk them slowly and then feed them once they reached town. They don’t know how long they have to wait for whoever is meeting them, and don’t want the horses hungry and restless if they have to linger. If it was anything else, they’d be riding into town, or finding a place to let them graze.’
Molly raised a questioning eyebrow.
Hava grinned. ‘My father, horse trader?’
Molly returned the smile. ‘Now?’
‘We wait,’ said Hava, and Molly nodded.
Hava had endured enough stints of observation as part of her training that she ignored the urge to drift off into random thoughts: the many unanswered questions about the choices that would come, if not soon, eventually. About her loyalty to the Council on Coaltachin and her years spent with Hatu – and their lost friend Donte – coming into conflict. She wrestled with that occasionally, electing to push it aside most times, content that when the time came for her to choose between a lifetime of friendship and love, and a sense of duty instilled since childhood, she would make that choice.
Instead she turned her attention to the soldiers waiting at the verge of the road below, attempting to see as much as she could without being seen. Molly had been correct; these men were a poor excuse for a mercenary company. She’d seen a number of those in her travels, and they were at best a scruffy lot, given to all manner of choices in armour, weapons, saddles, and mounts. The men below had chosen to wear some unlike garments, but they were all too clean, not in need of mending, obviously little worn. More revealing, they all wore the same boots, and the horses had identical tack. She was convinced if she got closer the swords and any bows would be alike. This was a company of soldiers, should anyone take a few moments to study them, and not just any soldiers – for garrison soldiers had variations in armour, weapons, and boots. These were castellans: personal soldiers of a noble, the best of his army, whichever army that might be.
‘Why are there so many of them?’ Molly whispered.
Hava shrugged. ‘Maybe we’ll find out.’
The two young women waited in silence while the men stood idly rotating every so often to ensure the horses didn’t wander off the road now that the feeding was over. Hava knew that sooner or later the horses would need water and softly asked Molly, ‘How far to water?’
Molly pointed to the road and then beyond it. ‘That way. Not far.’
Hava murmured, ‘They’ll have to water the horses soon.’
Molly nodded.
As Hava had predicted, two of the soldiers led half the horses off towards the small river that ran to the north of the road, and after a short while, returned and led off the other mounts.
Minutes passed slowly. As the sun lowered in the sky, the last of the freshly watered horses returned.
Hava leaned over and whispered, ‘See those two men, standing a little way off?’
Molly turned her attention to the indicated pair. One stood tall, a soldier by his bearing, but the other was a short man, apparently slender under his heavy cloak. Hava whispered, ‘The shorter one is not a soldier, but the tall one – their leader – seems respectful of him.’
‘How do you know?’
Hava again returned to the fabricated history she had concocted. ‘My father taught me early to study people; horse traders need to know whom they are bargaining with, even if they’re strangers. You look at who jumps to follow instructions, or their faces when they’re told something.’ As if to punctuate her observation, the tall man nodded and said something to the other soldiers, who immediately started inspecting the horses and making ready to ride soon.
‘Someone is coming,’ said Molly.
As soon as she spoke, Hava heard hoofbeats and a rider came into view, followed by the soldier who had been stationed down the road. The rider jumped down from his mount and nodded a greeting to the two men Hava had observed. The tall man moved away, leaving the short fellow and the newcomer alone to speak.
Hava said suddenly, ‘I’ve seen him before.’
‘Keep your voice down!’
Hava silently chided herself for letting a moment of surprise break her discipline.
Molly asked, ‘Who?’
‘The man who just arrived was at the inn two days ago seeking a room. Hatu said the repairs were not quite finished and sent him off.’
Since the Inn of the Three Stars was still under repair, travellers were often referred to other quarters, to smaller inns and several farmers’ barns. Their inn should be in a good enough state to allow travellers a place to stay by tomorrow, Hatu had told her.
‘Do you know him?’ whispered Molly.
‘Just a traveller. I didn’t pay attention after he asked about a room.’
Molly said, ‘They’re getting ready.’
‘Yes, but for what?’
‘To leave, look.’ She pointed to where the riders were inspecting their horses, tightening girths, checking bridles, ensuring saddle packs were secure, before starting their return journey.
Hava said, ‘We should go,’ and began to creep upslope.
Molly moved in beside her and after they’d crested a ridge and were heading towards Beran’s Hill down a gentle
