The last few days were a haze of pain, sleep deprivation, and disorientation. I couldn’t remember how many days I had traveled. Four? Five? More? The more tired I’d become, the less I’d been able to feel; all of the energy poured into worrying about Jovan and grieving for Tain had long dissipated in the endless fields and hills and the glare from the sun. My worry and doubt in myself had disappeared along with it. It had made me bold.
I snuggled tighter, rubbing my back into the warm, shaggy fur of the sleeping graspad. The strong smell of the animal no longer bothered me. I’d stolen it two evenings ago with a fearlessness that would have stunned my brother. The Kalina who’d agonized over that first oku, and frozen like a frightened rabbit in the face of the old man, would not have recognized the woman who had stalked the quiet village of Casperwan and taken the feisty little graspad. Riding it had taken some practice and I had fallen several times, but I seemed to have the hang of it now.
Today had been good. I’d taken advantage of the big steady paws of my new companion and traversed a more direct route south, away from the road and over the rocky hills. It brought me closer to the mines, but also made it harder to orient myself, especially in the middle of the day when the sun’s position was of limited help. Alternating between walking and riding, I was traveling much faster than in those first few days.
I calculated that these were the Ash estates, but I couldn’t remember the estate house position relative to the mines. It would be too dangerous to risk getting close given that it was presumably held by the rebels. Days ago, in sight of the road, dust clouds had alerted me to someone passing, and sometimes there had been signs of small groups in the distance, but the hills and fields lay bare and deserted.
Maybe I’ll never see anyone ever again. I might die out here.
It was the kind of morose thought Jovan might have in one of his moods, and the melodrama of it gave me some weary amusement. My brother would have pictured his own demise in excruciating detail, but luckily I lacked both his intense focus and his imagination for inventing terrible scenarios with which to torture myself. Frequent tributary streams heading down to the river meant I was never far from water. There was no food left, but the Ash estates were kori country so there would be korberries soon, if nothing else. And I had made it this far. I tried to ignore the biting wind and relax. How could my body be so bone weary yet still resist sleep?
But I must have slept, because when I opened my eyes, there was someone standing over me. Too tired to even startle, I blinked up at the dark shape: a dream? When I rubbed my eyes the figure stayed there and as I tried to sit up a spear shaft dug into my side.
“Wake up.” A shuttered lantern burst into light, revealing a man and a woman in army uniforms, their faces shielded behind conical leather helmets.
Relief made me laugh, though it came out a coarse choke. They stared at me, suspicion glittering in their eyes; I tried to stop but couldn’t. The graspad awoke and swiveled its elegant neck.
“Who are you?” the woman asked, prodding me with the spear.
“What’s wrong with her?” The man waved the lantern over me and clucked his tongue. “It’s a woman. A Sjon.” He squatted beside me and removed his helmet. “Are you all right?”
The woman moved the spear back, but kept it in hand, less trusting than her colleague. I tried to catch my breath and explain, but couldn’t stop making the noise, or even tell if I was laughing or crying. Scouts, they must be scouts. I’ve made it.
“Aven,” I managed to say between gasps. “I’ve come to tell … help … we need help.”
“Who needs help?” the man asked. “What’s your name?”
“Credola Kalina,” I said. He whistled, looking to my covered upper arms. I pushed the fabric up, exposing my Family tattoo. “Please, I have to see the Warrior-Guilder.”
He helped me to my feet. “Can you ride?” he asked. “We’re a fair ways from the camp.”
I nodded, my breathing finally stabilizing.
“All right, Credola,” said the soldier. “You can tell me all about what you need as we ride.”
My sleepy graspad gave a grunt of protest as I clambered on its back and wove my fingers through its long, knotted fur. The scouts had their own graspads, bigger than mine and better groomed, and they steered theirs with neat leather harnesses where I had just been directing my beast by tugging on the fur beneath its huge ears.
I’d done it. I’d found the army.
I let my head rest on the graspad’s neck, and felt my body relax for the first time in days.
* * *
I woke in a tent, surrounded by purple-and-red striped fabric. I tried to stand, but dizziness forced me down again. I still wore my mismatched traveling clothes, but someone had given me a blanket. A plate of food lay beside the cushions: a leg of something—bindie?—a round of flat bread, and a small bowl of smoked vegetable paste. And tea in a metal cup.
I gulped some warm tea first, then hunger grabbed me and I was halfway through the glorious greasy meat before I became conscious of it and slowed my chewing. I needed to speak to Aven. But, oh, honor-down, I was so hungry.…
I ate the rest of the meat and a few mouthfuls of bread dunked in the paste, fighting not to eat too quickly and get sick. I finished the tea then, fighting the wooziness, and got to my feet, remaining bread in hand.
“Hello?” I called out, stepping to the tent flap.
The scout who had found me stuck his head in. He had a wide, pockmarked face with heavy laugh lines around the mouth and eyes, and a long crooked nose.
“You’re awake,” he said with a warm smile. “Here, sit. Finish your food. You must be hungry.”
“Starving. I came from Silasta, and ran out of food a few days ago.” Through a mouthful of bread, I added, “I’m sorry, but I need to speak to the Warrior-Guilder, urgently.”
“You fell off your mount pretty hard, and you didn’t rouse when we tried. Warrior-Guilder Aven told us to put you in here and get you some rest and food, and to tell her when you stirred. I’ll send someone to let her know you’re awake, if you stay and finish that.”
I nodded. While he ducked back outside the tent, I secured another mouthful of delicious salty cheese.
He returned shortly, bearing a kettle of tea and more food. “You said you needed help,” he said, frowning. “What’s happened? Why do you need the Warrior-Guilder?”
“As far as I’m aware, messages for the Warrior-Guilder come to me, soldier, not you,” a dry, raspy voice interrupted. Through the tent flaps ducked a tall, muscular woman in a military tunic and riding trousers. A snarled black plait snaked over her shoulder, and her arms bore both the Reed Family tattoos and the knife sigil of the Warrior-Guilder. “Unless you’ve had a promotion I’ve not heard about?”
The soldier scrambled to his feet, head bowed. “Apologies, Warrior-Guilder. I was just trying to get some food into her. She’s half-starved.”
Aven looked me over with a raised eyebrow. “So I see.” I hastily swallowed my mouthful, feeling soft and plump and self-conscious under her hard gaze. “You can go, soldier.” The man scurried out without a backward glance, and the Warrior-Guilder took his place, cross-legged on the floor in front of me with a rod-straight spine and a measuring look. Though I had seen her before, at the occasional demonstration or social event, we had never met, and I doubted she recalled my existence at all. “Now, little bird. What brings you to my camp in such a state?”