The Silver Mage - Katharine Kerr [108]
“Think it hold us?” Leejak said.
“If we’re careful,” Kov said. “The Horsekin must have built it to get horsemen across the river.”
“Ah. Maybe the ones that burn huts.”
“It could be, indeed. After we bring down the fortress, we can retreat back here, cross the bridge, and burn it behind us.”
“Good plan. If we live so long.”
“There is that.” Kov tried to smile and failed. “Well, all we can do is hope for the best. To that end, we need to send a scout up. See if Horsekin are guarding the thing.”
Leejak snorted profoundly. “I go myself. These—” he jerked a thumb in the direction of the other Dwrgwn, “—be useless.”
Kov agreed, but he said nothing aloud.
When twilight grew thick outside, Leejak climbed up to the vent, pulled out the wooden grating, and hauled himself over the edge to the ground above. Kov stayed on the ladder and watched as the spearleader ran, half-crouching, to the riverbank. He made his way among a scatter of bushes, where he paused to take off his clothes. When Leejak slipped into the water, Kov saw a brief glimmer of blue light, then lost track of the spearleader completely in the dark ripples of water.
Twilight turned to night. The stars came out and began their slow wheeling climb toward zenith. Kov’s legs began to ache on his awkward perch, but he kept watch. Without Leejak, he felt, the expedition would fail, which meant he himself would end up sacrificed to the Water gods by a gloating Gebval. My throat slit and my blood given to the river, he decided. Or bound to one of those stone pillars and knifed.
Down below him, he could hear the Dwrgwn squabbling over who had received more of their diminishing rations of stale flatbread. He considered climbing out and disappearing into the night, but what would happen to him then? As much as he hated to admit it, his safety lay with Leejak and his followers.
After what seemed like half the night, though the wheel of the stars had only marked out an eighth of its journey, a damp Leejak returned. Kov climbed down to let the spearleader swing himself onto the ladder and follow.
“No guards,” Leejak said. “I round up our men. We hurry across now. Who knows who comes later?”
“Just so,” Kov said. “What do we do once we’ve crossed?”
“Hide in trees to west. Then dig.”
“Dig tunnels south, down to the fortress, you mean?”
“That, too. Place to hide, place to think.” Leejak paused to look up at the opening of the shaft. “Too strange up there. Too wide, too many stars.”
Getting all the Dwrgwn up and out, as well as hauling up all the gear, took far too much time and made too much noise for Kov’s peace of mind. He kept expecting that at any moment a Horsekin barge would drift downriver and see them, or a mounted patrol would come bursting out of the woods to run them down with sa bers flashing in the starlight. At last everyone had assembled in a reasonably straight line. With Kov leading, and Leejak at the rear to ensure that no one stopped or strayed from the line of march, they headed for the bridge.
When they reached it, even in the uncertain light, Kov could see that it had been built on the ruins of an older structure. Stone pilings, cracked and mossy, rose a few feet out of the water. New wooden pilings had been driven next to these ancient supports only in the center of the structure, where the bridge arched high enough for a barge to slip through. Near each shore the Horsekin had laid their rough-cut planks over the old stones.
“We go few at time,” Leejak said.
“Good idea,” Kov said. “The gods only know how they got horses across this thing!”
“Slowly,” Leejak said then laughed.
Despite Kov’s fears, the entire expedition got across safely, though certainly not silently. The wood creaked and groaned under any greater weight than a single Dwrgi. The men kept slipping and cursing, snapping at those closest to them as if the slip were someone else’s fault. Kov could only pray that the sound of water rushing along under the bridge would cover the noise, assuming that any Horsekin laired