The Blight of Muirwood
Page 102

 Jeff Wheeler

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Colvin touched her hand to get her attention, and she nearly flinched at his touch. She smiled and looked at him.
“How do you speak Pry-rian and Dahomeyjan, Lia? Has Martin been teaching you?”
She shook her head subtly. “Actually, it is the Aldermaston’s doing. He Gifted me with xenoglossia. When I need to understand something, it just happens. When I need to say something, it just comes out. It is not something I really think about.”
Colvin nodded. “A powerful gift of the Medium.” He looked over his shoulder into the horizon. “This is your country, I think. Your parents are not alive. But I think they were from Pry-Ree. You will have an advantage there. It is probably wise if I do not speak much.”
“I am sure that will be difficult for you,” she teased.
He ignored the thrust and went on. “With the orb, we will not need to ask directions or track their steps. I only hope we can make good time and head them off on their escape. Have you any thoughts about outwitting Martin?”
Lia looked out across the water. “I am sure he will be watching for us to follow. If we can get in front of him somehow, that will be a surprise. My guess is that they will not stay in towns, but sleep out of doors. He would not want too many witnesses, and bringing someone like her would cause talk. I know that he will keep a watch during the night, but that may still be the best chance to free her. I might be able to make the guards fall asleep.”
“Like you did at the Pilgrim.”
She nodded. “It was valerianum, of course. But I do not think it affects someone so quickly. I think it was the Medium. If that does not work, then I may try talking to Martin and explaining the situation to him.”
Colvin shook his head. “He has already committed to this act. He will not be persuaded. But if you could lure him away from the others, I could subdue him.”
Lia bit her lip. “I do not mean to be offensive, Colvin, but I doubt that. He…he is very good.” She could see she had offended him. She reached out and touched his leg. “I think Dieyre was right about him in one way. I do think he was soldier. I think he trained other soldiers. He taught me many ways to kill or disable a man. Though I do not think I have the heart to hurt him.” She frowned. “Please do not kill him, Colvin.”
He snorted. “It is more likely that he would kill me, it seems.”
“I am sorry if I hurt your feelings.”
With a shrug, he waved her off. “Was he the one who suggested to you that it was safe strategy to charge into a mass of enemy knights with only a gladius and a bow?”
She stopped short and looked at him quizzically. “In a way, yes. Are you criticizing me?”
“Ah, I have offended you now. I wondered what possessed you to charge in like that. You were assuming we would rush in behind you? You communicated nothing. I saw you rise up and shoot down those hapless men then rush into the thick of them. It frightened me out of my wits. The one advantage to your action was it surprised them and drew their focus to you. The second is that it forced Dieyre to make a stand, one way or the other. I do not see how the Queen Dowager will forgive him for killing her men. So you may have committed him to our side without intending to. It was bold, Lia. But never do that again.”
She gave him a curious expression. “You were worried about me?”
“You should have worried more. Have a care next time.”
Lia felt a flush of pleasure at the words. “One of the things Martin did teach me is that war is about suprising your enemy. Doing something they cannot anticipate. Throwing dust in their eyes. Stomping on their foot. A man cannot fight if you cut off his thumb. Being unpredictable is your best weapon. If you can get them to react to what you are doing, it gives you more choices than reacting to what they are doing. To be honest, my only goal was to thwart a murder. To draw the attention from inside the hovel to outside. I knew you and Dieyre were behind me. We did what had to be done.”
His frown was not stern, just troubled. “Just warn me next time,” he insisted. “Before doing anything rash.”
When they looked back, there was land.
“Ah, there is Steep Holm,” Pen-Ilyn said. “We will take a short rest there.”
* * *
The hamlet of Enarth was smaller than the village of Muirwood. Perhaps a dozen small dwellings, a muddy road, and a single dock with fishing boats tethered there.
“It is a humble place, but we will stay with my sister who lives a short way from here,” Pen-Ilyn said. He clasped their hands, one by one. “Per our agreement, my lord, we will wait on this side of the shore for you to return. You paid for two days, so we will wait for two days, despite other business that may be lost. If the Dahomeyjan cowards return, they will find our place desolate. If we wait any longer, our livestock may all be gone when we return. We get our milk and cheese from cowherds in Enarth anyway, so that will not trouble us. Be careful. The land is treacherous. Mind the snakes and scorpions.”