The Charnel Prince - J. Gregory Keyes [84]
Aspar regarded her for a moment. “I’m the leader of the expedition. You’ll do what I say.”
Her face went cold. “Is that how it is?”
“Yah. This is the last time you go against me, Winn. Someone has to be in charge, and that’s me. I can’t spend every moment arguing with you.”
Her face relaxed a bit. “But we’re all staying together.”
“For now. If I change my mind again, that’s the way it will be, understand?”
Her face hardened again, and he felt a little wind suck out of him. “Yah,” she said at last.
The next morning the sky pulled on a gray hood of clouds, and the air was as wintry as Winna’s mood. They moved almost silently, save for the snorting of the horses and wet plod of their hooves on the leaves. More than ever, Aspar felt the sickness of the forest, down in his bones.
Or maybe it was arthritis.
They found the trail of black thorns and followed it into the Foxing Marshes, where the ancient yellow stone of the Lean Gable Hills broke into steps for a giant to walk down to the Warlock. For normal-size folks like Aspar and his companions, the steps were a little more difficult to negotiate—they had to hunt for the places where rinns had cut their way and then gone dry. Where the thorns hadn’t choked everything, the land was still green with ferns and horsetails that grew almost as high as the heads of the horses. Leaves from hickory and whitaec drifted as constantly as a soft rain.
And it was quiet as if the earth were holding its breath, which kept Aspar’s spine crawling.
As always, he felt bad for being hard with Winna, which irritated him in its own turn. He’d spent most of his years doing exactly what he wanted, the way he wanted, without any leave from much of anyone. Now a smooth-handed praifec and a girl half his age had him dancing like a trained bear.
Sceat, Winna thought he was tame now, didn’t she? But how could she understand what he was, at her age? She couldn’t, despite the fact that she somehow seemed to.
“The Sefry came this way,” Ehawk said softly, interrupting Aspar’s quiet fume. He looked down to where the Watau’s chin was pointing.
“That’s awfully clear sign,” he muttered. “Is that the first you’ve seen of ’im?”
“Yah,” Ehawk allowed.
“Me, too.” Of course he’d been so busy thinking about Winna, he’d missed even that.
“Looks like he’s trying to lead us off again,” Ehawk said. “South.”
Aspar nodded. “He figured we’d come this way, following the thorns, and now he’s left a roadsign.” He scratched his chin. Then he glanced at Winna. “Well?” he asked.
“Well, what?” she retorted. “You’re the leader of this expedition, remember?”
“Just checking to see that you do,” he grumbled back. He studied the lay of the land. South was upcountry again, a stretch of ground he knew pretty well, and he had a feeling he knew where the Sefry was going.
“You two backtrack to the clearing we passed at noon,” he said. “I’m going to follow this trail a bit. If I’m not back by morning, then I’m probably not coming back.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Winna asked.
Aspar shrugged.
“What do we do if you don’t come back?”
“What we discussed earlier. Head back to Eslen. And before you start thinking it, the reason I’m going alone is because I can move more quietly that way, and not for any other reason.”
“I wasn’t arguing,” Winna said.
His heart dropped a little, but at the same time, he felt a bit of satisfaction. “Well, then. That’s good,” he said.
If Ogre resented climbing back up the hills he’d just come down, he didn’t let on, ascending without the slightest whicker to the high-canopied forest of oak. By the time they came to the relatively