“Do you smell that?” he asked.
She lifted herself a little, rolling over a bit and resting on her arm. Then she nodded. “It is nearby.”
“Though we could use the warmth, we should probably go farther upstream. I’ll fetch your things.”
She agreed and stood, clutching herself and trembling with the chill of the water and the night air.
Paedrin went to the bushes where he had stashed her gear. It was no longer there. He stopped, confused, and the smoke shape coalesced near him, almost making him flinch.
“I put her things by the fire,” Kiranrao said. “It is in the woods a little ways, a cave of sorts to hide the light. Over in the trees that way.” He pointed with a gloved hand.
Paedrin did not like being surprised, but he kept control of his expression. “Thank you.”
“Gratitude? What a surprise. Let me see your hand. Is the goose grease still there?”
Paedrin had not given the ring much thought, and looked down at his hand. It felt only like cool steel. “It has not bothered me since we left the city.”
“With some spirit magic, there is no distance.” He removed a small tub from a pouch at his waist and opened it for Paedrin. “Another layer of grease will not hurt. You must keep it from touching your skin. Foolish of you to put it on, Bhikhu. May cost you your finger in the end.” The last was said with a smirk.
“I had hoped we lost you by now,” Paedrin remarked coldly as he applied more of the salve to his ring finger. “But we do not always get our wish. You followed us then?”
Kiranrao nodded and said nothing more. “I travel faster than you do. There is other business to attend to. Romani caravans to gain news from. The Arch-Rike hunts us still, but we are quickly passing beyond his reach. There is a comfortable caravan wagon not far from here where I will sleep tonight. Enjoy your cave, and I will see you in the morning. We enter Silvandom together. Brother.”
Paedrin nodded reluctantly and turned to find Hettie approaching. She was shivering uncontrollably.
Kiranrao gave Hettie a mock bow. “Even a tin knocker shines on a dirty door. At least you are clean now. Get her warm any way you choose. But remember that she belongs to me.”
Paedrin glowered and said nothing.
“Praise the ford when you have crossed it,” Hettie said through chattering teeth. “And I have…with no Vaettir trickery.”
“I will drink to that,” Kiranrao said, smiling. Then he vanished.
Paedrin stood for a moment, savoring his displeasure. He would kill that man someday. Or be killed by him. One of the two outcomes was becoming more and more inevitable. Though in all truth, he would prefer seeing him maimed beyond recognition. Alive enough to breathe and little else.
“You are freezing,” Paedrin said, motioning her to follow him.
“I’m glad you noticed,” she said mockingly. “Where is the fire?”
“This way.”
He led her into the tangle of trees and into a gulch. The glow of the fire could finally be seen then, reflecting off the trickle of a stream in the gulch’s belly. He breathed himself down the embankment and then reached up, helping her jump down. The cave was little more than a sloughing of earth that had collapsed long ago during a rainstorm. Trees sheltered the area on all sides and provided cover for sound as well as shielding the light from the fire. Kiranrao had chosen the place well.
Hettie hurried forward and crouched by the small tongues of heat. She bathed her hands directly into the flames and they did not burn her. Her face showed the first signs of relish.
The inlet was small but it could fit both of them, sitting close together. He joined her next to the fire, savoring the light as much as the heat. She twisted a clump of hair and quickly began drying it. He watched her, fascinated.
“Quit staring,” she said, not looking at him. “Would you fetch my blanket?”
Behind them, he found her pack and opened the buckles. He withdrew the blanket and spread it over her shoulders.
“Not yet, fool,” she said sharply. “I want to warm it by the fire first while my clothes dry, otherwise I’ll be sleeping in a wet blanket tonight.” She sighed deeply. “I am hungry but too tired to hunt. It was a hard swim.”
“You did well,” he offered.
“I wasn’t looking for praise.”
“Can I say anything and not offend you? I have often wondered that.”
“Your silence least offends me,” she said. “I am in no mood to banter tonight. I am exhausted and cold.”
“You have always been cold,” he pointed out. “But I understand the exhaustion part.” He was curious about something and decided to venture further. “I notice that you and Kiranrao trade Romani sayings. They are clever. Like the one you used about fording the stream. You have more, I presume? Teach me.”
She lifted herself a little, rolling over a bit and resting on her arm. Then she nodded. “It is nearby.”
“Though we could use the warmth, we should probably go farther upstream. I’ll fetch your things.”
She agreed and stood, clutching herself and trembling with the chill of the water and the night air.
Paedrin went to the bushes where he had stashed her gear. It was no longer there. He stopped, confused, and the smoke shape coalesced near him, almost making him flinch.
“I put her things by the fire,” Kiranrao said. “It is in the woods a little ways, a cave of sorts to hide the light. Over in the trees that way.” He pointed with a gloved hand.
Paedrin did not like being surprised, but he kept control of his expression. “Thank you.”
“Gratitude? What a surprise. Let me see your hand. Is the goose grease still there?”
Paedrin had not given the ring much thought, and looked down at his hand. It felt only like cool steel. “It has not bothered me since we left the city.”
“With some spirit magic, there is no distance.” He removed a small tub from a pouch at his waist and opened it for Paedrin. “Another layer of grease will not hurt. You must keep it from touching your skin. Foolish of you to put it on, Bhikhu. May cost you your finger in the end.” The last was said with a smirk.
“I had hoped we lost you by now,” Paedrin remarked coldly as he applied more of the salve to his ring finger. “But we do not always get our wish. You followed us then?”
Kiranrao nodded and said nothing more. “I travel faster than you do. There is other business to attend to. Romani caravans to gain news from. The Arch-Rike hunts us still, but we are quickly passing beyond his reach. There is a comfortable caravan wagon not far from here where I will sleep tonight. Enjoy your cave, and I will see you in the morning. We enter Silvandom together. Brother.”
Paedrin nodded reluctantly and turned to find Hettie approaching. She was shivering uncontrollably.
Kiranrao gave Hettie a mock bow. “Even a tin knocker shines on a dirty door. At least you are clean now. Get her warm any way you choose. But remember that she belongs to me.”
Paedrin glowered and said nothing.
“Praise the ford when you have crossed it,” Hettie said through chattering teeth. “And I have…with no Vaettir trickery.”
“I will drink to that,” Kiranrao said, smiling. Then he vanished.
Paedrin stood for a moment, savoring his displeasure. He would kill that man someday. Or be killed by him. One of the two outcomes was becoming more and more inevitable. Though in all truth, he would prefer seeing him maimed beyond recognition. Alive enough to breathe and little else.
“You are freezing,” Paedrin said, motioning her to follow him.
“I’m glad you noticed,” she said mockingly. “Where is the fire?”
“This way.”
He led her into the tangle of trees and into a gulch. The glow of the fire could finally be seen then, reflecting off the trickle of a stream in the gulch’s belly. He breathed himself down the embankment and then reached up, helping her jump down. The cave was little more than a sloughing of earth that had collapsed long ago during a rainstorm. Trees sheltered the area on all sides and provided cover for sound as well as shielding the light from the fire. Kiranrao had chosen the place well.
Hettie hurried forward and crouched by the small tongues of heat. She bathed her hands directly into the flames and they did not burn her. Her face showed the first signs of relish.
The inlet was small but it could fit both of them, sitting close together. He joined her next to the fire, savoring the light as much as the heat. She twisted a clump of hair and quickly began drying it. He watched her, fascinated.
“Quit staring,” she said, not looking at him. “Would you fetch my blanket?”
Behind them, he found her pack and opened the buckles. He withdrew the blanket and spread it over her shoulders.
“Not yet, fool,” she said sharply. “I want to warm it by the fire first while my clothes dry, otherwise I’ll be sleeping in a wet blanket tonight.” She sighed deeply. “I am hungry but too tired to hunt. It was a hard swim.”
“You did well,” he offered.
“I wasn’t looking for praise.”
“Can I say anything and not offend you? I have often wondered that.”
“Your silence least offends me,” she said. “I am in no mood to banter tonight. I am exhausted and cold.”
“You have always been cold,” he pointed out. “But I understand the exhaustion part.” He was curious about something and decided to venture further. “I notice that you and Kiranrao trade Romani sayings. They are clever. Like the one you used about fording the stream. You have more, I presume? Teach me.”
