“For many years,” I said, at almost the same instant that the Fool said, “Far more than friends, I would say.”
It was at precisely that moment that Civil Bresinga flung open the tent flap and thrust his head inside. “I feared as much!” he declared angrily. Swift looked up at him, his mouth a round O of surprise. The Fool gave an exasperated sigh. I was the first to find my tongue.
“Your fears are groundless,” I said quietly, while Swift, entirely mistaking Civil's declaration, retorted, “I would never be disloyal to my prince, no matter who tempted me!”
That comment, I think, threw Civil into complete confusion. Now totally uncertain of what was going on, he contemptuously ordered, “Swift, come out from there, and go to bed in your own blankets.” Then, to the Fool, “And don't believe this is the end of this. I'll be taking my concerns to the Prince.”
On the heels of his words, before the Fool or I could respond, we heard Riddle's voice ring out in challenge. “Hold where you are! Who goes there?”
I thrust Swift out of the way to bolt out of the tent. I nearly knocked Civil over as I passed him, not that I would have regretted it much. I sensed him following me, and knew that Swift and the Fool would, also. By the time I reached Riddle's sentry post, most of the camp had tumbled out of their blankets to see what the uproar was about.
“Who goes there?” Riddle shouted again, his uncertainty making him more angry and challenging.
“Where?” I demanded as I came up beside him, and he lifted a finger to point.
“There,” he said quietly, and then I saw the man's shadow. Or was it the man himself? The uneven surface of the blown snow on the glacier and the feeble light of the fire quarreled with the deep gray of the northern night, making it hard to tell substance from shade. The snowy mountains above us cast a second, deeper shadow across the reach of snow. I squinted. Someone stood at the far edge of the dwindled fire's reach. I saw no more than his silhouette, but I was certain it was the man I had glimpsed earlier in the day. Behind me, I heard Peottre gasp, “The Black Man!” He spoke with dread, and the spreading mutter among the Hetgurd men who had also roused was uneasy. The Fool was suddenly beside me, his long fingers gripping my forearm hard. He breathed his words, and I doubt any heard them save me. “What is he?”
“Come forward and show yourself!” Riddle commanded him. His drawn sword was in his hand as he stepped out of our circle and into the darkness. Longwick had thrust a torch into the dwindled embers of the fire. As the pitch took flame, and he lifted it aloft, however, the man simply was no longer there. Just as a shadow vanishes when light comes too close to it, so had he disappeared.
His appearance had roused the camp, but it was his disappearance that threw us into chaos. Everyone spoke at once. Riddle and the other guards ran forward to examine the place where the man had stood even as Chade shouted at them not to tread on the snow there. By the time Chade and I reached the spot, they had already trampled over whatever sign he might have left. Longwick lifted the torch higher, but we saw no definite footprints either approaching or leaving that spot. It was within the boundaries that Peottre had staked out for the camp, and our own trails crossed and overcrossed there.
One of the Outislanders was praying loudly to El. Never have I heard anything so unnerving as a hardened warrior praying to a god known for his merciless heart. It was a harsh prayer, one that promised gifts and sacrifices if El would only turn his attention elsewhere. Web looked shocked by it and Peottre's face was pale even in the torchlight. The Narcheska looked as if she had been carved from ivory, so still and stunned were her features.
“Perhaps it was only a trick of the light and shadows,” Cockle suggested, but no one took him seriously. The Hetgurders offered no suggestions, but spoke low and swift amongst themselves. They sounded worried. Peottre too held his silence.
“Whatever or whoever it was, he's gone now,” Chade declared at last. “Let us get what sleep is left to us tonight. Longwick, double the guard. And build up the fires.”
The Hetgurd contingent, perhaps not trusting our sentries, set a guard of their own. They also spread an otter skin on the snow at the edge of our encampment and once more set out offerings on it. I saw Peottre shepherd the Narcheska back to their tent, but doubted he would sleep any more this night. I wondered why he appeared so badly rattled, and wished that I knew more of this “Black Man” and the traditions surrounding him.
I thought Chade would want to speak to me, but he only gave me an accusing glare. I thought at first that he wished that I had done more to apprehend the visitor; then realized it was because the Fool still stood beside me. I started to move away from him, then irritably checked my own action. I would determine where I wished to be, not Chade. I met his gaze levelly and kept my face devoid of expression. Nonetheless, he gave his head a small shake before he turned aside to accompany Dutiful back to their tent.
