Skeen's Leap (41 page)

“How long before they catch us again?”

“Well, hard to say. Unless we waste an awful lot of time, not before dawn, even if they ride all night, um, probably even if they really pushed the karynxes. I'll watch them some more, but I don't think they're going to try.”

Skeen turned to Timka. “Then I say wait. Leave them alone for a while. Two reasons. We're setting up a pattern—we ride and try to increase the distance between the two parties, defend ourselves if attacked, but we don't go after them. That way they will be the more surprised when you hit them; your job will be easier, safer. And, though they don't know it, they're acting like rear guards back there, keeping the locals off our backs.” She flicked the end of her nose, laughed. “I wonder if they realize that.”

“I'll keep watching them, Skeen.” Chulji rose and fluttered away.

“And I'll keep hunting out ambush points.” Timka rose, dropped her robe, and fluttered away.

“Min,” Skeen said. “I thought I was getting used to them.”

Pegwai walked beside her to her mount. “Timka is very different now.”

She turned to look at him, her eyes blank. “I was thinking that this morning. I'm not sure any more. Maybe she knows.” She swung into the saddle, gazed down at him. “More knots?”

“Not so far, Lifefire be blessed.” He stroked his hand along her leg, smiled up at her. “I suppose it's as well we stick to company manners.”

“Damn you, Peg.” Half-irritated, half-laughing, she clucked the karynx into a walk.

On the fifth day out, the pair of Ravvayad were still trailing over a dozen stads behind and showing no real interest in catching up.

Two hours before sundown, Timka came darting back, dropped to the ground in front of Skeen and melted to the naked form of the woman they knew. Skeen threw her the robe and she slipped into it. “Trouble ahead,” Timka said. She tied the belt with a sharp jerk of the ends. “Waiting for us, about half a stad. Nemin—a general mix, wearing rags and leather, long shaggy hair; those with hair, beards, about two-thirds are Pallah. No Chalarosh, some Nagamar males, one Aggitj, the rest are Balayar and rogue Funor. Two with longbows, otherwise spears and knives. One has something that looks like a saber. I think but can't be sure others have slings and whips. About a score of men all told. But there was a lot of growth around, trees and brush, so I'm not really sure about numbers. Place seems to be molded for ambushes. Steep slope left side, cranky going, ravines, scree that looks unstable, lot of brush with thorns. Right side, sort of leaning cliff. The only clear path lies along a narrow stone lip that hangs over the river. If we want to keep following the river, we have to take that lip.”

Britt nodded. “I know that place, more blood spilled there than on a butcher's ground. At least twenty?”

“Yes. Spread along about two hundred paces.”

“Standard tactics—they mean to let us pass, then close both ends of the lip, spook the karynxes over the edge, cut the throats of any left alive.” He brought a leg up, crossed it over the saddle in front of him. One hand on his thigh, the thumb of the other hooked over his belt, he frowned at the sky and chewed on the smooth black flesh of his lower lip. “We can't go round, just back. You won't go back. Don't need to tell me that. Happen to catch sight of a one-eyed man, black hair halfway down his back, wide as he is tall and that's saying some?”

“I saw mostly shadows and bits.”

“That many, though, sounds like Naels the Eye. Runs about with three or four, picks up strays when he needs them.”

Skeen looked quickly around at the others. Eyes on her waiting for what she'd say. “What about fording the river, going by on the far side?”

“Nope. Nagamar have been burned too many times by hillmen. These days they kill whoever sets foot on their side of the river. And this side, if you take a look down there, you'll see there's a brake too thick to force through mounted. Might do it if you're on foot and desperate and didn't give a shit about your hide.”

“Lovely. How far are you in this?”

“How exactly do you mean that?”

“Only that you're hired to guide, not fight.”

“Come up with something reasonable, I'll do my part.”

Skeen grimaced. The Aggitj grinned at her, waiting; they'd grown up a lot on this trip, there was an assurance about them that showed, but they still waited for her to point the way. The Boy waited, quiet and resigned, with the Beast in his arms; can he remember anything but fighting? Pegwai smiled at her with the kind of confidence that irritated her; he was too old and too artful to be acting like that, like he was another Aggitj. She smiled down at Timka. “You and me?”

Timka didn't bother answering; she pulled off the robe, tossed it to Skeen who draped it across the saddle in front of her, blurred into that snaky powerful cat-weasel, gray and tan fur mottled like a clouded leopard's pelt, long limber neck, large furred pads that made less sound than a feather moving over difficult ground, gray horn claws, ripping teeth that showed fearsomely when she opened her mouth in a soundless snarl that needed no translation.

Skeen nodded, turned to the guide. “Britt, hold up here about an hour, shouldn't take more than that to clear the road or get ourselves killed. That happens, you get everyone back to Karolsey.”

Pegwai started to protest, then shut his mouth.

She smiled at him, slid off the karynx and moved over to Timka-cat. “Hal, you and the others, you take care of the Boy.” She clipped the lanyard to the darter's butt, did a body flutter to loosen her muscles. “You know the land, Ti-cat. Take us around behind them.”

They clambered across a pair of ravines, slipped like shadows through a thin scatter of trees, glided round impassable clumps of dry thorny brush, picked a careful path through a mutter of dry grasses, leaves, and small twigs. Skeen had learned silentwalk on litter-scummed warehouse floors where noise alarms would have nailed her if she faltered. Not so different from this. Ti-cat was a hunter by nature and instinct, padding over scruff and scree, soundless as a ghost on a foam mattress, a ripple in the air, barely visible even when Skeen was looking directly at her.

Naels' men were getting restive. The Company was due, but they weren't suspicious yet and paid little attention to what was behind them. Not used to being hit from behind, Skeen thought; they do all the hitting. She grinned at Ti-cat, got a fearsome grin back from her. They crept to within a man-length of the ambushers; Skeen eased the holster flap back and brought out the darter.

She started down the line, darter set on spray, its almost inaudible clicks merging with the rustle of the leaves; she shot whatever bits she could see, legs, arms until one man shouted alarm when he saw the next over topple from a low branch. After that Skeen didn't bother about noise, but ran full out, the darter spitting its bursts until the reservoir ran dry. Before that happened, she managed to take out close to a dozen of the ambushers.

Ti-cat hit them as they began to wake to danger and start for Skeen; hamstringing the runners with a slash of her claws, sometimes taking the time to tear out a throat as they went down.

One man had a longbow, but it was awkward in close work. He tried to get the distance he needed and managed to get off one shaft. Timka flashed away, her flank misting so the point went harmlessly past her. Before he could try again, Skeen was on him with her boot knife. Slash through the bowstring, foot hooked behind his heel. As he toppled, Ti-cat flashed her bloodied claws across his throat. Another exchange of grins, and they went after the rest, working together as if they'd practiced it for years. A stone grazed Skeen's head, Ti-cat rushed in low and fast, a flow of tan and gray, raked the legs from under the slinger, flicked her claws across his throat. A bobtail lance sent Ti-cat scrambling and shifting into the misty half-state. A huge man hefted another, ready to throw the moment she solidified. Skeen came in behind him, put a knife in his kidneys then across his throat. And so it went until they'd cleaned out the trees and brush, until all the wilders were down from the darts, or dead.

They walked out onto the stone lip, settled to wait for the others. Skeen took the small leather-covered waterbottle from her belt, refilled the darter's reservoir, slipped in a new capsule of paragee, uncovered the charge plate, and laid the weapon on the stone to catch the long rays of the setting sun. Better if it were noon light, but every little bit helped.

Timka curled her paws beneath her and stretched out in shade. After a minute she began licking the blood off her paws and washing her muzzle with a lazy contentment, almost purring. Skeen watched her a while, then laughed. Ti looked around, purred louder.

A large bird swooped low, screeched, went darting away. “Chulji?” Skeen said. Ti-cat nodded.

Ten minutes later Britt rode his karynx onto the lip.

Skeen caught up the darter, slid the cover over the charter and holstered the weapon, got to her feet, and looked past him. “The others?”

“Five minutes back. Better to be sure.” He ran his eyes over the shadowy slopes, the gently rustling trees. “The wilders?”

“About a dozen drugged, some others hamstrung or other wise wounded, the rest dead. Why was Chulji here? What about the Kalakal Ravvayad?”

“Following as before about five stads back. Chulji came to report. The Scholar sent him here to see what was happening. Your Aggitj are annoyed at missing the fight.”

“Wasn't a fight. More like a trap shoot.”

“Naels One-eye there?”

“If he's a big man with black hair twisted into a single braid, a beard that parts in the middle, huge hands, and a way with a bob-tail lance, then he's one of the dead. Ti-cat treed him and I slit his throat.”

Britt's nose twitched and his ears flattened against his skull, then he tried a tentative smile. “Remind me not to irritate the pair of you.” He glanced at Ti-cat, looked quickly away when she gave him a cat-grin filled with curving yellow fangs.

Chulji flew over again. A moment later the rest of the company rode onto the lip. Skeen swung into the saddle and tossed Timka her robe as she shifted to her Pallah form. The Aggitj came swarming around her, throwing questions at her, interrupting each other, their karynxes sidling and dipping their horns, infected by the boys' excitement. “Hey, calm down,” she was yelling so she could be heard over their noise, “or you'll have us all in the river. Listen, you'll hear it all once we're in camp. I don't want to hang around here,” she glanced toward Timka, saw she was mounted and ready to go, “the tale will tell better over a hot cup of tea.”

The guide stood at the edge of a long bare slope of scree looking down at the river that was all black glides and silver foam in the light of the waxing moon. Skeen went to stand beside him. “How far is the lake?”

“We should reach the Bend country this time tomorrow. Five to seven days after that, depending on what meets us and how the going has changed since I was last there. North of the Bend is Min country, though they don't come into the canyons much. I'm not sure how they'll take strange Min in their skies.” He glanced south along the river. “They won't like us pulling that pair after us. Nor will the Ykx. Ykx and Chalarosh mix like oil and fire. Maybe you can fiddle bringing the Boy; he's a cub and the Ykx think high of cubs. That pair's different. Ravvayad killers.”

“Hm. What's the leeway with the Ykx?”

“They'll be watching four, five days out; the Min will let them know someone's coming and who it is.”

“Right. The Ravvayad are staying back; I get the feeling they're following until they can get reinforcements, maybe some new leadership. What they've got hasn't worked out that great for them this far. Canyon country coming up. Hm. Give them two more days, Ti can scout out the ground, then we take them out.”

He said nothing, she was talking to herself and he knew it.

They rounded the bend of the river and started moving almost due west through increasingly stony canyon lands, a maze of steep-walled cuts with the Plain rising farther and farther above them. Barren arroyos cut the walls; most of them had streams of varying depths and ferocity dashing down them to merge with the river—streams they had to ford, as many as a dozen in a day.

On the middle of the second day in the canyons, when the sun was striking down on stone and water with dazzling force and the world was half dissolved in light, Skeen and Timka went crawling over scree and scruff into a hollow among huge boulders near where another arroyo stream tumbled down to the river. Skeen poured water on a towel, wrapped it about her head and settled into the meager shade, Timka dropped her robe and took wing, spiraling into the wind to ride the thermals over the canyon; a golden bird dissolving into the hot gold glare. Skeen blinked up at her. “Min! Life is not fair, not at all.” She wiped her hands on the eddersil of her tunic, drew her arm across her brow to wipe away sweat that kept getting into her eyes. She sighed with envy, added a bit more water to the sodden towel, then she eased back and drifted into a light doze, stirring now and then to glance at Timka.

An hour passed. She stirred, looked up. Timka broke her circling, dropped down, rose quickly, flew toward the arroyo and dropped again. Skeen pulled off the towel, rose onto her knees and eased across the hollow to a place where wind had blown dried weed into a crotch between two of the larger boulders.

The Kalakal were relaxed, their karynxes ambling along. Though they still wore their robes, their veils were untied, blowing back from their faces; those faces were flushed and coated with sweat. They reached the turbulent arroyo stream and started across, eyes on the treacherous footing. Skeen set the darter for bursts, rose to her feet and put a burst in each of them, part of the burst hitting them in the faces. The water caught hold of them, tugged them out into the river where their sodden robes dragged them under. The karynxes would have bolted, but Timka came bounding down the arroyo, a sure-footed cat-weasel, and locked their feet with her Min control of ordinary beasts.