Fire - Kristin Cashore [46]
‘The search party’s returning,’ she called back to her guard. ‘They’re close. I believe the scout unit’s with them.’
At their silence she turned to glance at them, and found six pairs of eyes watching her in various states of unease. She stepped out of the rain, into the passageway. ‘I thought you’d like to know,’ she said more quietly. ‘But I can keep my perceptions to myself, if they make you uncomfortable.’
‘No,’ Musa said. ‘It’s appropriate for you to tell us, Lady.’
‘Is the commander well, Lady?’ one of the men asked.
Fire had been trying to determine this for herself, finding the man irritatingly difficult to isolate. He was there, of this she was sure. She supposed the continued impenetrability of his mind must indicate some measure of strength. ‘I can’t quite tell, but I think so.’
And then the music of hoofbeats echoed through the corridor as somewhere, in some crevice of the mountain below them, the riders entered the tunnels that led to the sleeping cavern.
A short while later, plodding downward, Fire received an abrupt answer to her concern when she sensed the commander walking up the passageway toward them. She stopped in her tracks, causing the guard behind her to whisper something most ungentlemanly as he contorted himself to avoid lighting her headscarf with his flame.
‘Is there any other route to the cavern from here?’ she blurted out; then knew the answer, then shrivelled in mortification at her own display of cowardice.
‘No, Lady,’ Musa said, hand to her sword. ‘Do you sense something ahead?’
‘No,’ Fire said miserably. ‘Only the commander.’ Come to fetch the wandering monster, who’d proven herself wild and irresponsible. He’d keep her on a chain from now on.
He came into view a few minutes later, climbing with a candle in his hand. When he reached them he stopped, nodded at the soldiers’ formal greetings, spoke quietly to Musa. The scout unit had been recovered unharmed. They’d run into a nasty party of cave bandits twice their size, and after tearing up the bandits they’d got themselves turned around in the dark. Their injuries were minor. In ten minutes’ time they would all be asleep.
‘I hope you’ll get some sleep as well, sir,’ Musa said. Suddenly Brigan smiled. He stepped aside to let them by and momentarily met Fire’s glance. His eyes were exhausted. He had a day-old beard and he was drenched.
And apparently he had not come to fetch her after all. Once she and her attendants had passed him he turned away, and continued up the sloping corridor.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SHE WOKE THE next morning stiff and achy from yesterday’s riding. Margo handed her bread and cheese, and a basin of water to wash her face. After this, Fire reached for her fiddle and played a single reel, slowly and then with increasing speed, to wake herself up. The effort of it crystallised her mind.
‘The commander didn’t mention this advantage of our guard duty,’ Mila said, smiling shyly. Musa stuck her head through the flap of the tent.
‘Lady,’ Musa said, ‘the commander bade me tell you we’ll be passing near Queen Roen’s fortress around midday. He has business with the horsemaster. There’ll be time for you to take a short meal with the lady queen, if you like.’
‘ YOU ’ V E BEEN ON your horse since yesterday,’ Roen said, taking her hands, ‘so I’m guessing you don’t feel as lovely as you look. There, that smile tells me I’m right.’
‘I’m tight as a bowstring,’ Fire admitted.
‘Sit down, dear. Make yourself comfortable. Take off that scarf, I won’t let any gaping no-heads in here for the next half-hour.’
Such a relief to release her hair. The weight of it was great, and after a morning of riding, the scarf was sticky, and itchy. Fire sank gratefully into a chair, rubbed her scalp, and allowed Nax’s queen to shovel vegetables and casserole onto her plate. ‘Haven’t you ever considered cutting it short?’ Roen asked.
Oh, cutting it short. Hacking it all off, throwing it once and for all on the fire. Dyeing it black, if only monster hair would take colour. When she and Archer had been