Hatter by Daniel Coleman Page A

was only a few miles long, but each step could lead into an ambush. From where he sat, Chism felt nervous sweat drip down the insides of his arms.
    Pale sandstone cliffs hedged the squadron in on the right, black granite crags on their left. If danger arose in the Gap, there would not be time to retreat. Duke Jaryn’s men would reach the western end of the trail before Quicksilver could escape.
    The first mile passed uneventfully and Chism breathed easier, starting to think the squadron might make it through the remaining three miles without incident. But by the time he noticed the ambush, there was no time to give warning.
    Within a matter of a dozen heartbeats, men appeared on the trail in front, and in the cliffs that lined the trail. At least a hundred men, all armed with bows or stones, but Chism couldn’t get an accurate count because some blended into the rocks. In a fight the Elites were accustomed to ten-to-one losses, but the ten were usually on the other side. Fleeing would only expose their backs to the Militia’s arrows, and they would have to pass under scores of men who lined the canyon along the means of retreat, only to meet Jaryn’s men at the entrance to the Gap.
    Lieutenant Fahrr called a stop. Words were spoken by the Elite Lieutenant and the leader of the Militia, but Chism was too far to hear. It didn’t take long for Lieutenant Fahrr to order the Elites to drop their weapons. Fifteen swords, spears, and bows fell to the rocky trail—Quicksilver Squadron was in the power of the Militia.
    Four men were dispatched from the Militia’s front line. With all the confidence their stratagem afforded them, they approached each Elite and Fellow, roughly removing hoods, searching for a boy soldier. As they neared the end of the formation, Chism hoped fighting wouldn’t break out.
    After unsuccessfully searching the entire squadron, the soldiers returned to their leader.
    Chism smiled wryly from his concealed location half a mile up the mountain. The Militia wouldn’t find what they were looking for.
    Though no horsemen had passed them with news of the events in Knobbes, messenger birds must have reached Portal City days before Quicksilver Squadron entered the Gap. Lieutenant Fahrr had been unwilling to risk Chism’s life on the slight possibility of Duke Jaryn not dispatching birds, and his decision had proven accurate. Without Chism, the Militia had no reason to detain the squadron.
    The night before Quicksilver reached Serpent Gap, Lieutenant Fahrr asked Chism to swear an oath that he would go to the capital straightaway, and Chism obliged. Under Lieutenant Fahrr’s advice, Chism didn’t tell anyone his exact plan for the days following their split. The Elites and Fellows pitched in a few coins and whatever food they could spare to give Chism a chance to escape. Even Ulrik shared his rations and opened his coin purse.
    Then they parted. A full squadron could never escape undetected, but a lone boy could slip through. Chism’s plan was to double back into the Province, sweep around one of the mountain ranges, and cross into the interior from there.
    Chism spent the night climbing into the mountain, searching for a point that gave him the best view of the gap. It wasn’t possible to travel between the mountain ranges without entering the gap itself, but Chism made it far enough to gain an acceptable outlook.
    Below him in the gap, a second group of Militia was sent to examine the Elites. But even someone who had never glimpsed Chism could see immediately that he wasn’t among them. A few Elites had dark hair, but none the color of a moonless midnight, with eyes to match. And while Chism never had the need of a razor, every other member of the squadron had significant stubble to show for the five days with limited supplies.
    Once it was clear that his squadron was in no danger, the scene amused Chism. A third, and eventually a fourth, contingent of the Militia proceeded to inspect their prisoners. One