Eona - Alison Goodman [13]
“How many in your party?”
“Myself, my wife, and our two bondservants.”
“No guards?”
“No, sir. We have a Blessed Pass and fly the official pilgrim banner. Surely we are safe.”
“There have been reports of bandits along this road attacking pilgrims.” The soldier handed back the token. “Have you seen any other travelers? A big islander, a boy, and a woman, perhaps? Or two men and a boy?”
It was as if all of the air had been sucked from the cart. They were searching for us; I had known it as reports and warnings carried to the fisher village, but now it was real. Now it was soldiers around us with orders to capture or kill. I clenched my shaking hands.
“No, sir,” Dela answered.
“Check the cart,” he ordered his men with a jerk of his head.
I pressed myself deeper into the straw and tried to relax my limbs into a listless sprawl. Beside me, Vida rearranged her fierce intensity into meek servitude. We glanced at one another, momentarily bonded by the threat.
The flap at the end of the cart lifted, and two men peered in with swords drawn. They scanned the cart, both of them skimming across my white clad figure to pause for a moment on Vida’s body.
“A woman and her maid, sir,” the older of the two reported.
Their officer appeared, and they both made way for him. He was younger than I expected, with a good-humored face dragged down by weary responsibility. Hanging from a length of leather around his throat was a red jade blood amulet. I had seen them before on ranked soldiers: a carved plea to Bross, God of War, for protection in battle. A blood amulet only worked if it was received as a gift, and one carved from red jade instead of the usual ox-stone would have cost a lot of money; someone wanted to keep this soldier alive.
He was staring at my white robe, a stricken look on his face.
“Sir?” one of his men prompted.
The officer’s eyes flickered, then focused on me.
“My apologies for intruding, madam,” he said gently. “Now I see why you journey at this time. I am Haddo, Lieutenant of the East Mountain Patrol.” He bowed. “You will understand that I must ask you to step down while we search your cart.”
Vida straightened. “Please, sir, my mistress is not well.” Her voice had taken on the soft lilt of service.
Haddo ignored her protest. “If you will step down, madam.”
“Of course.” I busied myself with gathering up my gown, trying to hide my trembling hands. Below me, I felt Ryko’s desperate presence like another pounding heart.
Vida hurriedly took my arm and pulled me upright. “Lean on me, mistress.” Her body was tense against mine.
Hunched under the canopy, we moved toward the lieutenant, our progress slow and awkward. It was not all an act—after two days of lying in the cart, I could hardly move. With every shaking step, my nausea increased.
Vida helped me down on to the roadside, softly fussing with the hem of my gown as we stepped around a puddle. When I turned to face the lieutenant, I finally saw the true extent of the threat. A troop of twenty men surrounded us: mainly foot soldiers with swords, but also a small number carrying deadly mechanical bows. There was no way we could we fight our way out. Vida’s grip tightened.
“Is my wife all right?” Dela called.
“Stay where you are!” Haddo ordered. He nodded to the two waiting soldiers. “Search it.”
They climbed into the cart. I could not watch—surely my face would be a map that led straight to Ryko—but I could not look away. The older man flipped open the traveling baskets, one after another, and dug through them, scattering food, clothing, and bedding. The other soldier lifted the thick straw mattress, sending up a swirl of dust. He speared it with his sword, once, twice. Then his attention turned to the floor. Beside me, Vida sucked in a tense breath. My stomach tightened into a rush of intent.
“I am going to be ill,” I said.
As I turned toward the flooded ditch, Vida’s iron grip pulled me around to face the lieutenant. There was no time to object. Doubling over, I retched out a thin stream of water and foul bile at his feet.
Haddo jumped back with disgust.