The Charnel Prince - J. Gregory Keyes [155]
Nor did he seem resentful of the impressive stone bridge that spanned him at his narrows, or the massive granite pylons that thrust down into his waters to support it.
Anne switched her gaze to the village that rested beyond the stone span. She vaguely remembered that it was also called Teremené, and they hadn’t stopped there during their last trip on the Vitellian Way.
“Austra,” Anne asked, “when we crossed into Vitellio, there were border guards. Do you remember?”
“Yes. You flirted with one, as I recall.”
“I did not, you jade,” Anne protested. “I asked him to be more careful inspecting my things! And never mind that anyway. Were there border guards here? This is the border between Tero Gallé and Hornladh. Shouldn’t there be guards?”
“We weren’t stopped,” Austra confirmed, after a moment of thought. “But we weren’t stopped when we crossed into Hornladh from Crotheny, either.”
“Right, but Hornladh is a part of father’s—” She broke off as grief bit. She kept forgetting. “Hornladh is part of the Empire. Tero Gallé isn’t. Anyway, it looks like there are guards there now.”
Austra nodded. “I saw them inspecting the caravan.”
“So why the sudden vigilance?”
“The caravan is going into Hornladh, and we were leaving it. Maybe the Empire cares who comes into its territory, and Tero Gallé doesn’t.”
“Maybe,” Anne sighed. “I should know these things, shouldn’t I? Why didn’t I pay more attention to my tutors?”
“You’re afraid it’s the horsemen?”
“Yes—or they may have offered a reward for us, like they did in z’Espino.”
“Then it doesn’t matter if they’re legitimate guards or not,” Austra reasoned. “We can’t take the risk.”
“But we have to cross the bridge,” Anne said. “And I was hoping, once in the Empire, we might find some help. Or at least ask if anyone has seen Cazio and z’Acatto.”
“And get something to eat,” Austra added. “The fish was tiresome, but it was better than nothing.”
Anne’s stomach was rumbling, too. For the moment it was just unpleasant, but in a day or two, it would be a real problem. They didn’t have even a copper miser left, and she had already sold her hair. That only left a few things to sell, none of which she cared to think about.
“Maybe when it gets dark,” Austra proposed dubiously.
Something moved behind them. A little rock went bouncing down the slope and past their hiding place. Gasping softly, Anne swung around to see what it was and discovered two young men with dark hair and olive complexions staring down at them. They wore leather jerkins and ticking pantaloons tucked into high boots. Both had short swords, and one of them had a bow.
“Ishatité! Ishatité, né ech té nekeme!” the man with the bow shouted.
“I don’t understand you!” Anne snapped back in frustration.
The shouter cocked his head. “King’s tongue, yes?” he said, coming down the slope, arrow pointed squarely at her. “Then you are the ones they look for, I bet me.”
“There’s one behind us now,” Austra whispered.
Anne’s heart sank, but as the two moved closer her fear began to turn to anger.
“Who are you?” she demanded. “What do you want?”
“Want you,” the man said. “Outlanders come by yesterday, say, ‘Find two girls, one with red hair, one with gold. Bring them or kill them, make no difference, but bring them and get much coin.’ Here I see me girl with gold hair. I think under that rag, I see hair is red.” He gestured with the weapon. “Take off.”
Anne reached up and removed the scarf. The man’s grin broadened. “Try to hide, eh? Doing not so good.”
“You’re a fool,” Anne said. “They won’t pay you. They’ll kill you.”
“You say,” the man replied. “I think not to trust you.” He stepped forward.
“Don’t touch me,” Anne snarled.
“Eshrije,” the other man said.
“Yes, right,” the bowman replied. “They say red-hair is witch. Better just to kill.”
As he pulled back on the bow, Anne lifted her chin in defiance, reaching for her power,