Proceedings to the highest levels of scholarship. To that end, I cannot accept another paper from you written in the popular style you have recently adopted in many of your papers; to do so could well cost me my position as editor.
In friendship,
Klules
II
THE TOWN
CHAPTER
SEVEN
They progressed only a few miles from the bivouac before the character of the land and the life it nourished began to change. From an imperceptible downward slope, the ground began to ripple easily upward toward the spine of the peninsula, and a rocky substrate broke the surface in places. The canopy trees thinned out to competition from shorter trees whose major branches sprouted lower on their trunks, whose boles split and split again until the leaves formed a bloomlike ball. Direct sunlight reached the ground, allowing an undergrowth of bushes, weeds, and flowers. Animate life changed along with the landscape. Butterflies displaced many of the salt-lickers and bloodsuckers under the canopy. There were more bees than before. Tracks of wild goat mixed in with those of deer. Rabbits scampered from the approaching men, foxes peered at them from behind screens of grass. Ground birds hunkered under brambles. Somewhere an elk bugled and was answered.
Following the changing lay of the land, the road wound about more than before, went around rather than over the higher or steeper groundswells. In places the roadway had been cut into a rise rather than climb over its top. On the approach to one such cut, Haft began hearing the muted clops of walking horses, the tree dulled jangle of tackle. The sounds echoed in the trees, making it difficult to tell their direction. He whistled to get Birdwhistle’s attention, then angled toward the road. When he reached it he listened. The sounds came from the front, ahead of them. He signaled Birdwhistle, then darted across the road where he found Archer coming his way. Unlike Spinner, Haft had no questions or qualms about his right to command.
“Horsemen,” Archer said. “They came across our front and turned onto the road.”
“How many? Who are they? Jokapcul?”
Archer shook his head. “We weren’t close enough to see. It sounded like a squad. They didn’t talk, so we heard no language.”
Haft thought for a moment. They needed to know the identity of those people; they also needed to remain unseen until they found out. “Could you tell how fast are they going?”
“A slow walk.”
“All right. Maintain contact, but keep your distance. Don’t let them see you. Send Hunter back to tell Fletcher to close up with us.”
Archer nodded. “Right.” He turned into the forest to find Hunter.
Haft dashed back across the road and looked for Birdwhistle. He saw him not far away and headed for him, then spun toward a shadow that darted through the trees ahead of him. He whistled to alert Birdwhistle, and lowered himself to a knee with his crossbow at his shoulder, sighting along it toward where he saw the fleeting shadow.
A shape leaped out of the shadows and bounded toward him, it twisted in time to evade the quarrel he fired at it and was on him, grinning jaws clamped on his right sleeve, before he could draw his axe. It was Wolf.
Haft jerked his sleeve from the animal’s mouth and glared at him as he rearmed his crossbow. “One of these days, Wolf,” he snarled, “you’re going to do that but I’ll be faster. That’ll end your games.”
He half expected Wolf to snort and vigorously shake his head as he usually did when Haft made such remarks, but the wolf didn’t. Instead, he looked at Haft expectantly.
Haft looked toward Birdwhistle. The scout was watching them intently and angling closer. He signaled him and Birdwhistle came straight over.
“A squad crossed Archer and Hunter’s front,” he said when the Zobran reached him. “They weren’t close enough to see who they were. I sent Hunter back to bring Fletcher and his men up. Now I want to find out who those people are.”
In friendship,
Klules
II
THE TOWN
CHAPTER
SEVEN
They progressed only a few miles from the bivouac before the character of the land and the life it nourished began to change. From an imperceptible downward slope, the ground began to ripple easily upward toward the spine of the peninsula, and a rocky substrate broke the surface in places. The canopy trees thinned out to competition from shorter trees whose major branches sprouted lower on their trunks, whose boles split and split again until the leaves formed a bloomlike ball. Direct sunlight reached the ground, allowing an undergrowth of bushes, weeds, and flowers. Animate life changed along with the landscape. Butterflies displaced many of the salt-lickers and bloodsuckers under the canopy. There were more bees than before. Tracks of wild goat mixed in with those of deer. Rabbits scampered from the approaching men, foxes peered at them from behind screens of grass. Ground birds hunkered under brambles. Somewhere an elk bugled and was answered.
Following the changing lay of the land, the road wound about more than before, went around rather than over the higher or steeper groundswells. In places the roadway had been cut into a rise rather than climb over its top. On the approach to one such cut, Haft began hearing the muted clops of walking horses, the tree dulled jangle of tackle. The sounds echoed in the trees, making it difficult to tell their direction. He whistled to get Birdwhistle’s attention, then angled toward the road. When he reached it he listened. The sounds came from the front, ahead of them. He signaled Birdwhistle, then darted across the road where he found Archer coming his way. Unlike Spinner, Haft had no questions or qualms about his right to command.
“Horsemen,” Archer said. “They came across our front and turned onto the road.”
“How many? Who are they? Jokapcul?”
Archer shook his head. “We weren’t close enough to see. It sounded like a squad. They didn’t talk, so we heard no language.”
Haft thought for a moment. They needed to know the identity of those people; they also needed to remain unseen until they found out. “Could you tell how fast are they going?”
“A slow walk.”
“All right. Maintain contact, but keep your distance. Don’t let them see you. Send Hunter back to tell Fletcher to close up with us.”
Archer nodded. “Right.” He turned into the forest to find Hunter.
Haft dashed back across the road and looked for Birdwhistle. He saw him not far away and headed for him, then spun toward a shadow that darted through the trees ahead of him. He whistled to alert Birdwhistle, and lowered himself to a knee with his crossbow at his shoulder, sighting along it toward where he saw the fleeting shadow.
A shape leaped out of the shadows and bounded toward him, it twisted in time to evade the quarrel he fired at it and was on him, grinning jaws clamped on his right sleeve, before he could draw his axe. It was Wolf.
Haft jerked his sleeve from the animal’s mouth and glared at him as he rearmed his crossbow. “One of these days, Wolf,” he snarled, “you’re going to do that but I’ll be faster. That’ll end your games.”
He half expected Wolf to snort and vigorously shake his head as he usually did when Haft made such remarks, but the wolf didn’t. Instead, he looked at Haft expectantly.
Haft looked toward Birdwhistle. The scout was watching them intently and angling closer. He signaled him and Birdwhistle came straight over.
“A squad crossed Archer and Hunter’s front,” he said when the Zobran reached him. “They weren’t close enough to see who they were. I sent Hunter back to bring Fletcher and his men up. Now I want to find out who those people are.”
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