that wasn’t saying much.
“Are you sure?” the girl asked in the same tongue. “This isn’t the
shapulu
you’re used to.”
“Terrain”?
Kavi wondered.
“Environment”?
But Lakka’s hooded face had turned toward him for permission.
Kavi looked toward the Hrum sentry. He still held his shield at his side, with one hand on his sword hilt—the approved Hrum sentry pose—but his shoulders were hunched against the rain, and the pelting drops had to be making it noisy inside that helmet.
“Go,” said Kavi. “But take care.”
Even in the shadow of the hood, Kavi could see Lakka’s confident grin. The man crawled off through the underbrush without making any sound that could be heard over the patter of rain, and the farmer’s eyes widened.
The girl grinned. “Watch this. The Suud are the best—”
The lightning wasn’t close this time, but it silenced her, and even after the thunder finished grumbling she said nothing.
In that silence, Kavi heard the swift drumming of a grouse’s mating dance.
In the rain?
He looked over and met the girl’s eyes. She was smiling a fierce, deghass sort of smile.
The sentry’s head had turned toward the sound. Kavi could almost hear him thinking,
In the rain?
The drumming stopped.
The sentry shrugged and settled back.
The drumming began again, this time a bit farther from the road. It stopped, then started again. And again.
The sentry was cold, wet, and bored. He went to investigate.
The next time the drumming sounded, it was even farther off. The Hrum sentry followed it around the side of the hill and out of sight.
“The hatch is in a shallow ravine,” Kavi told the girl swiftly. “Just behind that big clump of bushes back there. You and Lupsh and Orop first.”
The girl blinked. “You’re not coming?”
“I’ll come last,” said Kavi. “Now go!”
Lupsh and Orop started up, but the girl reached out and caught their arms. “Wait,” she commanded.
Kavi scowled. She seemed to be listening, but he couldn’t hear—
Lightning filled the road with lurid light, and thunder pealed.
“Now!” She spoke in Suud, and the three of them darted onto the road and across. Soon they were making their way into the bushes on the other side. They made no sound Kavi could hear, but he did hear the drumming of a grouse in the distance.
The farmer’s jaw had dropped. “How did she know …?”
Kavi had sworn to keep the Suud’s magic a secret, and in truth he had no idea how she’d known when the lightning would strike—storms were no part of his sweet gift. “The Suud are more attuned to nature than we are. They can detect signs that we don’t know about.”
Of course, the lady Soraya wasn’t a Suud …
“Humph,” said the farmer. “Well, that lad who’s playing the bird is certainly good. But he won’t be able to pull that sentry off too far—he’s supposed to be watching this stretch of road. And if he hears anything back here …”
“That’s why I’m going last,” Kavi told him. “Compared to the rest of them, I sound like an ox in rut. Adalk, Rosu, Marib—go!”
Despite the wet fabric clinging to their legs, the Suud moved over the road like ghosts, fading into the bushes on the other side.
Only Kavi, Daralk, and Lakka were left to cross. Kavi thought Lakka could manage on his own—in fact he could probably manage better on his own.
Kavi grinned at Daralk. “Come on, then.”
He let Daralk precede him down the leaf-strewn, slippery hillsideand onto the muddy track. Kavi was just weighing the merits of a quick dash against the need for silence when Daralk, who was already halfway across, spun and hurried back, grabbing Kavi’s arm and hauling him up the hill.
Kavi opened his mouth to ask why, but then shut it again since the answer was obvious—Daralk must have seen someone on the road, and Kavi had a fair guess as to whom. They barely made it back to the hollow where the farmer lay before the sentry appeared, picking his way
“Are you sure?” the girl asked in the same tongue. “This isn’t the
shapulu
you’re used to.”
“Terrain”?
Kavi wondered.
“Environment”?
But Lakka’s hooded face had turned toward him for permission.
Kavi looked toward the Hrum sentry. He still held his shield at his side, with one hand on his sword hilt—the approved Hrum sentry pose—but his shoulders were hunched against the rain, and the pelting drops had to be making it noisy inside that helmet.
“Go,” said Kavi. “But take care.”
Even in the shadow of the hood, Kavi could see Lakka’s confident grin. The man crawled off through the underbrush without making any sound that could be heard over the patter of rain, and the farmer’s eyes widened.
The girl grinned. “Watch this. The Suud are the best—”
The lightning wasn’t close this time, but it silenced her, and even after the thunder finished grumbling she said nothing.
In that silence, Kavi heard the swift drumming of a grouse’s mating dance.
In the rain?
He looked over and met the girl’s eyes. She was smiling a fierce, deghass sort of smile.
The sentry’s head had turned toward the sound. Kavi could almost hear him thinking,
In the rain?
The drumming stopped.
The sentry shrugged and settled back.
The drumming began again, this time a bit farther from the road. It stopped, then started again. And again.
The sentry was cold, wet, and bored. He went to investigate.
The next time the drumming sounded, it was even farther off. The Hrum sentry followed it around the side of the hill and out of sight.
“The hatch is in a shallow ravine,” Kavi told the girl swiftly. “Just behind that big clump of bushes back there. You and Lupsh and Orop first.”
The girl blinked. “You’re not coming?”
“I’ll come last,” said Kavi. “Now go!”
Lupsh and Orop started up, but the girl reached out and caught their arms. “Wait,” she commanded.
Kavi scowled. She seemed to be listening, but he couldn’t hear—
Lightning filled the road with lurid light, and thunder pealed.
“Now!” She spoke in Suud, and the three of them darted onto the road and across. Soon they were making their way into the bushes on the other side. They made no sound Kavi could hear, but he did hear the drumming of a grouse in the distance.
The farmer’s jaw had dropped. “How did she know …?”
Kavi had sworn to keep the Suud’s magic a secret, and in truth he had no idea how she’d known when the lightning would strike—storms were no part of his sweet gift. “The Suud are more attuned to nature than we are. They can detect signs that we don’t know about.”
Of course, the lady Soraya wasn’t a Suud …
“Humph,” said the farmer. “Well, that lad who’s playing the bird is certainly good. But he won’t be able to pull that sentry off too far—he’s supposed to be watching this stretch of road. And if he hears anything back here …”
“That’s why I’m going last,” Kavi told him. “Compared to the rest of them, I sound like an ox in rut. Adalk, Rosu, Marib—go!”
Despite the wet fabric clinging to their legs, the Suud moved over the road like ghosts, fading into the bushes on the other side.
Only Kavi, Daralk, and Lakka were left to cross. Kavi thought Lakka could manage on his own—in fact he could probably manage better on his own.
Kavi grinned at Daralk. “Come on, then.”
He let Daralk precede him down the leaf-strewn, slippery hillsideand onto the muddy track. Kavi was just weighing the merits of a quick dash against the need for silence when Daralk, who was already halfway across, spun and hurried back, grabbing Kavi’s arm and hauling him up the hill.
Kavi opened his mouth to ask why, but then shut it again since the answer was obvious—Daralk must have seen someone on the road, and Kavi had a fair guess as to whom. They barely made it back to the hollow where the farmer lay before the sentry appeared, picking his way
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