“I'm not that big of a fool, Anhuset. If you suspect there's more to those tracks than meets the eye, I believe you. We've known to be on our guard since the outset of this trip. We'll continue as we are. If we're being tracked by thieves who think us easy prey, they'll learn differently soon enough.”
She gestured to the wagon. “Who'd guess an ordinary cart pulled by ordinary horse flesh would draw so much attention. You'd think it's a monarch's sedan and stallions from Nadiza's lightning herd.”
Serovek walked to the wagon, and Anhuset followed. He leaned over the center board and folded back the blanket covering Megiddo's ensorceled bier. The thrum of Elder magic tickled his fingertips when he did. The monk's face, peaceful in repose, carried none of the blue corona Serovek had half expected to see when he moved aside the covering. “It isn't the wagon itself or the team that pulls it. It's the fact the cargo is covered and accompanied by an armed escort.”
“Such inspires curiosity,” she said. “It doesn't necessarily incite robbery. There's something more at work here.” He felt the weight of her curious gaze before it settled on the bier. “For no reason I can explain, it's difficult not to stare at him. Even when he was alive—still awake and aware—he drew the eye.”
Serovek gazed at her profile from the corner of one eye. She'd gathered her hair in a loose knot at her nape, exposing her graceful neck and the sharp line of her jaw. He liked her face with its high cheekbones and swooping eyebrows as white as a snowy owl's feathers, the curve of her lips that were so parsimonious with their smile. She wore a contemplative expression as she studied Megiddo, an expression tinged with admiration. “You find him handsome then?” A nettle of unwelcome jealousy spoiled even more with a touch of envy pricked his insides. How he'd love to garner such an expression from her for himself.
Her quick, derisive snort answered his question before her words did. “Hardly, but even ugly can be arresting.”
Her remark gave him hope. She'd been stingingly blunt regarding her opinion of his appearance. Anhuset, like most Kai, considered humans ugly, and the sentiment was returned by most humans. Still, he'd never taken her harsh honesty personally. Even had she thought him as impressive as Megiddo, or as handsome as the handsomest Kai man, it wouldn't matter. This was a woman whose affections would be hard-won if won at all, and they wouldn't be obtained through surface attractiveness.
He flipped the blanket edge back into place, hiding Megiddo's face, and turned to his companion. He studied her as she studied him, her lamplight eyes bright in the darkness, the emotions there hidden in depths of numerous citrine shades. “And beauty is a quality defined by more than appearance,” he said softly. “Good night, Anhuset.” He bowed and left her at the wagon.
Her reply, just as softly uttered, trailed after him. “May your rest be peaceful, margrave.”
The following day they rode parallel to a deepening ravine, their pace slowed by the topography's gradual ascent and the degradation of the road. The smooth packed earth of the market roads gave way to rocky, uneven ground, and Klanek dared not push the horse team to a faster pace and risk breaking an axle.
Serovek consulted his map twice, searching for a bridge that crossed the ravine and allowed them to reach the other side and the entrance to the Lobak Valley. The map showed two bridges adjacent to each other; the beam bridge and a primitive footbridge. The footbridge came into view first. And last. No other bridge stretched across the ravine beside it.
He reined Magas to a halt and signaled the others to do the same. “Fuck,” he muttered, scowling at the rickety footbridge, just wide enough to allow two people to cross side-by-side if they were willing to risk the sway and swoop of frayed ropes at the mercy of a howling wind.
Erostis and Anhuset stopped on either side of him. The soldier stated the obvious. “There's no beam bridge.”
“I can see that.” Serovek unfolded the portion of the map showing the bridges. It hadn't changed since his last study of landmarks. Two bridges, not one, and he was certain they hadn't taken a wrong turn. The way here had been mostly a straight track.
Anhuset leaned toward him for a look at the map. “Your map says to cross here?” One eyebrow slowly climbed as she changed positions to stare at the footbridge. “You'll not get one horse across that death trap much less a wagon and team. It looks ready to snap under the weight of a rat.”
He nearly bit his tongue to keep from snapping at her in frustration. He held up the map. “The mapmaker I purchased this from is reliable and renowned. There's supposed to be a beam bridge here as well as the footbridge.”
“Maybe we took a wrong path after the village or the forest.” Erostis turned his mount in a circle as if to search for some hidden road whose markers they'd missed.
Serovek shook his head. “No, we're traveling in the right direction.” He coaxed Magas toward the footbridge, buffeted by the ravine's chilly gusts as they rode parallel to its edge. As he got closer to the footbridge, the discrepancy between map and reality revealed itself.
The map was correct, as was their direction. A beam bridge had once spanned the ravine, but no longer. Someone had destroyed it, tearing the anchor bolts from the cliff walls. Bits and pieces of spandrels and parapets not fallen to the river far below, hung on narrow outcroppings, providing sanctuary for bird's nests. The bits of stone looked like broken teeth against the cliff's dark rock.
“Well, that explains why there aren't two bridges,” Anhuset said behind him, her remark snatched away by the spiraling wind.
“Aye,” he replied as they rode back to where Klanek waited with the wagon. “I'll wager those who destroyed all the other water crossings we've seen had a hand in its collapse.”
“But why not take out the footbridge as well? A quick swipe with a scythe on the ropes, and it's done. Much easier than the beam bridge.”
He'd questioned the oversight as well for a moment until he gave the footbridge more than a passing glance. “Whoever it was, they were wise not to cut that one. It's an escape route. Someone fleeing the galla can still cross the ravine, and the demons can't follow.” He gestured toward the bridge. “Gaps between the boards. Too narrow to trip a person, but enough space between them that you see water. The demons can't cross.”
Klanek's face wrinkled into deeper worry lines when Serovek relayed the news about the collapsed bridge to him. “If we can't cross here, we'll be forced to take the round-about way to reach the valley, and that means going through what's left of Chamtivos's territory.”
Serovek was about to tell the driver he'd love to hear any alternative options when Anhuset straightened from her casual slouch and pointed to a spot behind him. “It seems your map missed a third bridge, margrave.”
He twisted in the saddle, then wheeled Magas around for a better look at this newest surprise. While the spot where they stood had cleared of morning fog hours earlier, dissipated by sun and wind, it still clung to a part of the cliffs in the distance—a gray shroud whose folds now parted in ripples and folds to expose a magnificent beam bridge of swooping arches, decorative spandrels, and graceful parapets constructed of ivory stone.