Crown of Shadows - C. S. Friedman [144]
“No argument there,” he muttered, thinking of all the violence that had been taking place at the Forest’s edge. The men of Yamas and Sheva would be all too happy to ambush a pair of sorcerers, if they believed that by doing so they might render their families safer.
“So: here.” The Hunter moved his finger eastward along the Ridge, until it came to rest at a place labeled Gastine Pass, some forty miles north and twenty miles east of them. “It’s bound to be safer than the other right now.”
“And pretty far out of our way.”
“Do you see an alternative?”
“You’re the one who cares about time.”
Did it seem that the Hunter flinched? Certainly he hesitated before answering, “I would rather lose a day reaching my goal than lose my life getting there.”
“You’re that sure he’ll be waiting for us?”
The silver eyes met his. “Aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s the rotten part about traveling with you, you know? Even your enemies are competent.” He took a short swig from his canteen, and watched as Tarrant did the same, trying to assess the weight of the Hunter’s canteen by the way he handled it. Half-empty at least, he judged. Did he have others like it, or was he reaching the end of his supply? “What about the Gastine? Won’t he try to whip up some kind of ambush there, once he guesses where we’re headed?”
“Without doubt. But the towns near there are farther from the Forest, and its people will be less ready to rally to his cause.” He paused. “The trick is to beat them there.”
He drew in a sharp breath and glanced back at the grazing horses. “Our mounts—”
“Will need attention,” he agreed. “And as Healing is your department, not mine, I leave you to it.” He rose to his feet in a fluid motion, not unlike a snake uncoiling. “The currents here are strong, but you should be able to Work them. One benefit of having been driven so far from our chosen course,” he said dryly. And then he began to walk away from the camp.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Far enough from the three of you that I can Know what’s happening in the Forest. Or, at least, try to.”
“I thought it was all but impossible to do that from here.”
“Yes. Well.” The Hunter’s eyes glittered in the moonlight, half-lidded and thoughtful. “Doing the impossible seems to be our order of business, doesn’t it?” He gazed out at the endless dark vista to the west of them, and Damien thought he saw him stiffen in anticipation. “You just see to the horses.”
See to the horses. Easier said than done, when the problem was not one wound or a simple illness but general systemic exhaustion. The animals needed sound sleep and a few good meals, not another Working. But with fifty or more miles ahead of them before they reached the Ridge, Damien and Tarrant had little choice. Calesta would certainly make sure that no town let them come close enough to purchase—or steal, he added grimly—fresher mounts.
“Don’t go far,” he warned Tarrant. The man was too far away to hear him now, but what the hell. He felt better for saying it.
With a sigh, he braced himself for a Healing.
They pushed hard for the rest of the night, hard enough that Damien wondered if the horses wouldn’t collapse before dawn. If so, he didn’t know that he could do much to save them. It was one thing to spruce up an animal’s biochemistry when it was still relatively healthy, another thing entirely to save it once systemic breakdown had