Chasers of the Wind (17 page)

Luk watched as ten riders galloped across the field from the village. One of the horses had two riders. The first was a Nabatorian soldier, but the second, judging by his bright shirt, was the very same lad they had frightened away from the glade. At the edge of the forest the soldiers drew in their reins, jumped down from the horses, left one of their own behind to watch over them, and disappeared into the trees.

“Won’t they find us?” Luk shifted in the grass and, just in case, hugged his axe even closer.

“Don’t worry. Those dolts couldn’t find a mammoth locked in a cage in broad daylight. Besides, we’re not at all where we should be, according to them. They’ll search a bit then settle down. They won’t go far into the forest.”

“Perhaps they’re persistent.”

“Did you see their gait? Cavalry. What do they know about the forest? They’ll just leap about and bellow at the top of their lungs. They’d get lost in their grandmother’s vegetable patch. Are you looking for a fight?”

“I’ve had enough fights today. I’ll be happy just so long as they don’t find us. But what if they know how to read tracks?”

Ga-Nor’s face twisted up contemptuously, clearly indicating that he hadn’t expected such an unpardonably stupid idea from Luk.

“One of them might keep at it like a stubborn fool. We’re just lying here. We can’t see what they’re doing. What if someone suddenly comes up from behind?” asked Luk.

The northerner gave this conjecture the thought it deserved and then sighed deeply.

“All right. For the sake of your nerves I’ll go and check. You have an unsettling habit of making people doubt their own strengths.”

“I’ve been cautious since childhood,” Luk justified himself.

“Rest here. And, for the love of Ug, keep your head down until I return.”

He disappeared into the tall grass. Luk waited for him, sweating from nervousness. The northerner returned after about twenty minutes, just not from the direction the guard expected.

“Well, what of it?”

“I told you—they’re only good for braiding their horses’ tails, not for roaming about forests. They poked around and didn’t find anyone. Then they gave that lad a few good smacks about the head for dragging them there for nothing.”

In point of fact, the men returned from the forest just then. They greeted their horses, mounted them, and turned back the way they had come at a much slower pace.

“Thank Ug it was boneheaded cavalrymen that came searching for us, and not a scouting party. They would have examined every blade of grass before they left. But those guys—idiots!”

*   *   *

All was quiet and peaceful in the village. The cavalry had disappeared behind the houses, the archer was slowly roasting in his tower, and the patrols were sauntering along the outskirts of the village. Ga-Nor left and returned three more times.

“So, are we setting out when it’s dark?”

“I’m setting out. You are going to wait here for me.”

He was right. On a nighttime excursion Luk would be more hindrance than help. So the guard didn’t even think to object. It was hard enough to keep up with the northerner. And it was beyond his skill to do it quietly, leaving as little trace as possible.

“Bring me something to eat, will you? My belly’s full of spiderwebs.”

“You ate this morning.”

“So in your opinion, a crust of bread and a bit of cheese rind is food? I can suffer through the night, but I’ll drop dead of hunger without some scraps by morning.”

“And where am I going to get it for you? Should I stroll into the inn and buy some? Or waltz over to the Nabatorians and beg some off of them?”

“I’m just saying that if the possibility should arise to … um … borrow something edible, I would be really happy. I would pray for the health and life of your family until the end of time.”

“I don’t have a family.”

“Oh.” Luk, realizing he’d made an awkward blunder, frowned but then suddenly hit upon the answer. “Well, then I’ll just pray for you, and also I’ll—”

“Be quiet, you windbag,” the Son of the Snow Leopard cut him off genially. “You’re messing up my count.”

“What are you counting?” The soldier tore himself away from his contemplation of the pastoral landscape of the village and its surroundings and finally turned toward the northerner.

“The Nabatorians. I need to know how many patrols are here.”

“There are three men on the tower. One is always on the lookout, while two others, I think, sit on the floor. Probably playing dice. It’s a smart arrangement. If someone attacks, they’ll think the archer is alone up until the last moment. You can’t see them. They change shift every two hours. There are four patrols. Three men in each. The time between the first and the second, and the third and the fourth, is about ten minutes. It’s almost twenty between the second and the third. They rarely look around. The third patrol once paused for a half an hour. The darkness knows what they were doing. Just hung around not moving. It’s always the same men. The sentries walk around the borders of Dog Green. It’s the usual arrangement for an occupied village. I can’t say anything about the actual number of Nabatorians. We’re at the farthest end of the village. Judging by the houses and all those fields, not too many people live here. I might be able to get a better idea from a different vantage point.”

While Luk was talking, Ga-Nor was looking at him in shock, his eyes narrowed. The northerner hadn’t expected such attention to detail from his companion.

“What are you looking at?” asked the soldier gruffly. “I haven’t grown horns yet.”

“How did you notice of all of that?”

“What do you think I am? A complete idiot? Unable to do anything besides play dice? I spent many years serving in the garrison of the Towers. You never trained with the men posted on the Wings. We drilled constantly. We had to be familiar with the faces of everyone in the area. Who drives what. Who visits whom. How to sniff out contraband. You scouts think we’re all just trash, but we—”

“You left the Gates open,” the tracker finished mercilessly.

Luk wanted to say something nasty in return, but at the last moment he just waved his hand at his companion, turned his back to him, and did not speak to him until evening.

*   *   *

Night fell warm and clear. The moon had not yet appeared, but due to the thousands of stars strewn across the sky, there was enough light. Luk was lying in a secluded forest hideout, and the bushes industriously hid him from outside eyes.

Ga-Nor had left more than an hour ago, and the soldier was getting nervous. The shirt on his back was soaked with sweat. Plus, his stomach was aching from anxiety. In his solitude, he’d managed to think through all the alternatives that would account for the tracker’s extended absence ten times. The worst of them was that the Son of the Snow Leopard had been killed. That would mean that staying in his hideout was dangerous. If the Nabatorians began searching in earnest, they’d let out the dogs. Or someone worse. Then it wouldn’t matter if he hid or not—they’d find him all the same.

Dread seized his throat, squeezing it so that it became hard to breathe. Luk almost made a break for it, but he willed himself to stay put, closed his eyes, and began slowly counting to ten.

Don’t even think of fleeing. He couldn’t allow himself that kind of cowardice. Abandoning the northerner would be low. He’d done too much for him.

He looked at the sleeping village once again. Not a soul. No movement. No light shining from the houses. Here, just as in any other village, they were early to bed, early to rise. Summer was the time for work. They had no love for idlers. Luk recalled a saying of his grandfather, “If you sleep in during the summer, you’ll go hungry in the winter.”

The loud shriek of a nocturnal bird made him flinch, and all extraneous thoughts flew out of his head. Luk hated the forest with all his heart. He didn’t understand it, and he was afraid of it. The constant rustling in the crowns of the trees. The odd screeching, so reminiscent of the wailing of a child. Every now and then, the trees took on the forms of dreadful monsters. Burning eyes looked out at him from the roots of an oak tree. There were ominous shadows everywhere. The soldier didn’t know where he would rather spend the night if fate gave him a choice—in the forest or in a graveyard. After a moment’s consideration, Luk chose the graveyard. At least there he knew what it was he had to fear.

The guard made out the figure of a man only when it was less than five yards away. He grabbed his axe and jumped into a fighting pose, intending to sell his life dearly.

“Calm down.”

“Screw a toad! You’re alive!”

“Follow me. But be quiet,” whispered the northerner. A bag was hanging over his shoulder. “I found a safe place.”

It took quite a long time to get to this “safe place.” When Ga-Nor led Luk out of the forest the village houses were within easy reach.

Luk glanced at his companion in bewilderment.

“You mean to tell me that it’s less dangerous here than in the woods?”

“Not here. At the mill.”

“It doesn’t look abandoned,” said the soldier skeptically, studying the building next to the river.

“I didn’t say that.”

Luk wanted to object that it was idiotic to hang about where the locals might see them, but the Son of the Snow Leopard was already standing by the waterwheel.

“What, they don’t lock the doors?”

“Who’s going to steal? Everyone knows everyone else. And the Nabatorians wouldn’t steal from themselves. They need bread, too. Get in.”

The northerner shut the door firmly behind them. He struck a fire and lit the wick of a lantern standing on the floor. Then he closed the metal shutter so that the night watch wouldn’t accidentally see the light.

“You already took a look around?” It hadn’t escaped Luk’s notice that the tracker was already well acquainted with the layout of the building.

“Yes. See that staircase? Go up.”

The staircase wound its way past enormous gears and millstones. The second floor was full of machinery. It smelled appealingly of grain and flour.

The Son of the Snow Leopard picked up a ladder that was resting on the floor, leaned it against the wall, and checked it for stability.

“Go on.”

There was a wooden trapdoor in the ceiling that led to the attic.

“They’ll find us here,” the guard predicted gloomily.

“They won’t. I checked. It’s been two months since anyone’s poked their head in here. It’s far safer here than in the forest. As safe as Ug’s bosom. And besides, most of the village is laid out before our eyes from this spot. Climb.”

Luk still had his doubts, but all the same he climbed up the rungs and pushed at the heavy hatch. He crawled through and took his axe from the northerner.

The attic smelled of dust and discarded objects, and slightly of bird dung.

“Tell me, won’t the miller miss his lantern in the morning?”

“It’s not the miller’s. Some farmer might be missing it though,” said the tracker, chuckling into his red mustache.

He took the ladder away and put it back in its place. Then he jumped up smoothly, grabbed the edge of the hatch, and pulled himself up into the attic.

Ga-Nor lowered the trapdoor in place. It slammed shut, raising a cloud of dust into the air.

“We should put something on top of it. So that no one can climb up. Come on, help me.”

In one of the corners there was a pile of broken, rusted hoes, pitchforks, scythes, and other scraps of iron. The kinds of things you would find in an attic. Even a small, cracked millstone was lying there. It had to weigh at least three hundred pounds. The damned miller couldn’t bear to throw his trash away, and so with the usual peasant frugality, he’d stored it. Perhaps it would come in handy someday.

The two of them dragged the millstone over and put it on top of the hatch.

“There. Now we can sleep soundly. Take a load off,” said the northerner as he spread out his hands.

Only now did Luk take a proper look around. The planks on the floor and on the slanted walls were rough. Unsanded. You could get a splinter from them easy as pie. Fly-speckled cobwebs had accumulated in the corners of the attic. Opposite him, against the background of the already brightening sky, gleamed the large rectangle of a window. It didn’t have a frame, or even any glass. It was simply a hole cut in the wall. In winter this place was sure to be full of snow.

Luk approached the window and sat on his haunches. Below him was the river, and in front, the village. Just as good as an observation tower. The view wasn’t any worse.

“Come morning only a blind man wouldn’t notice us.”

“Well, you could bare your ass for them. Then they’d be able to see you a league away. Get away from the window, you ninny.”

“What do you want to see from here?”

“Anything I can. Here. Take this.”

Ga-Nor tossed the bag to his friend. It held a smoked mutton leg, the heel of an onion with five green offshoots, just as many apples, a small pot of honey, and a turnip.

“Oh!” the guard cried in delight, and his belly rumbled in welcome. “And who was nice enough to share with you?”

“A barn and the nearby vegetable patches. I couldn’t get any bread.”

“You mean you pinched it.” Luk grunted approvingly, cutting into the meat with his knife. “That’s as it should be. Asking or buying would be dangerous. What if the locals reported it to the soldiers? Best to keep on the way we’ve been going. Very sneaky. Take what they put down and carry it off.”

“Very sneaky,” grumbled the Son of the Snow Leopard. “I almost gave my soul back to Ug. Besides the patrols, there was an ambush I didn’t notice. Very well hidden. I stumbled right into them. They were just as astonished as I was.”

“Did you get them all?”

“I did. But I was sweating as I dragged the bodies to the river and erased my tracks. They’ll be missed come morning. They’ll start combing the surrounding forest. It’s getting serious now.”

“They could also search the village.”

“Unlikely. The Nabatorians are thick on the ground here. While I was running around the gardens and fields, I tried to count them. They’re in nearly every house. On the eastern side, by the road, there’s a barracks. And a bit farther on something like a fort or a stronghold. They’re even working on it at night. They’re entrenching themselves. Our foolish troops are sitting around catching flies, and they’re going to be swimming in blood soon.”