promises.”
Carn turned to look at Braldt then, and though thehatred and naked hostility was gone from his eyes, there was no sign of warmth or caring, either.
Braldt nodded slowly, realizing that the promise of temporary neutrality was all that he could hope for at the present time.
He repacked his pouch and refastened his robe as he rose to his feet. “Let us do this thing then, and return quickly so that
I may speak to Auslic and tell him how I feel. Come, brother. As Jos is wont to say, the sooner begun, a job is done.” He
extended his hand to Carn. Carn took it reluctantly and then stood to face Braldt, the two of them looking deep into each
other’s eyes, taking each other’s measure. Neither was reassured by what he saw.
8
Braldt began to suspect that they were being followed during the long hours of the afternoon. They had crossed the boundary of the Duroni lands and were now traveling across the
softly undulating hills of the Forbidden Lands. The pace was slower than it had been, for Beast would not allow himself to
be picked up and he lagged well behind them. Carn’s ankle had begun to bleed and the bandage was stained crimson, but he would
not stop, shrugging off the wound even though Braldt could see that it was paining him.
He had paused on the crest of a small hill to find the pup, to make sure that he was still with them, when he first caught
glimpse of the follower. At first he thought that he had been mistaken, that it was a trick of the light, for it vanished
almost immediately and did not reappear. He did not say anything to Carn, preferring to make certain before he spoke, but
subsequent sightings proved his suspicions to be correct. And it was no animal.
He could not tell whether the follower was Duroni, but a Duroni would have no reason to hide and the follower was definitely
attempting to conceal his presence. He was good, fast and clever, moving from one bit of shelter to another; but Braldt was
better.
He wondered if it could be a slaver, one of the roving bands who enslaved and sold those who were vulnerable or too weak to
protect themselves. But this one was traveling alone, at least Braldt could detect no sign of more than one, and slavers were
rarely found in less than large numbers. A wise precaution in view of their practices.
They made an early camp at Braldt’s insistence, stoppingbeside a small rivulet of water that flowed through the narrow valley through which they were traveling. Carn protested, but
it was obvious that his heart was not in it, and he sank to the ground wearily and made no objection when Braldt examined
the wound.
It was ugly. The flesh was red and vastly swollen, the ankle appearing like some grotesque, obscene fruit. A pulse throbbed
visibly and blood still seeped from the torn flesh. “Why did you not speak?” Braldt demanded angrily. “Are you determined
to be brave and silent at the cost of your leg or even your life?” Carn did not reply.
Braldt built a fire quickly and set the gourd of sour milk to warm at its edge. Carn covered his eyes with the back of his
arm and made no sound as Braldt washed the leg and ankle. with water from the small stream. Braldt could feel the heat of
the flesh beneath his hands and knew that if he could not stop the sickness before it grew, Carn might easily lose his leg.
At the very least they would be unable to travel for many days.
Carn had fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep when Braldt slipped out of camp. He had placed both pouches beneath the spread
of a large tree, deep in its shadows, and covered them with his robe. It would not fool anyone for long or sustain close scrutiny,
but with any luck, it would not be necessary.
He crept out of camp silently, glad for once that the pup was nowhere to be seen, and hid himself beneath a clump of cibas,
the acrid stink of their leaves filling his nostrils. He had a clear view of the camp, the burning fire clearly visible
Carn turned to look at Braldt then, and though thehatred and naked hostility was gone from his eyes, there was no sign of warmth or caring, either.
Braldt nodded slowly, realizing that the promise of temporary neutrality was all that he could hope for at the present time.
He repacked his pouch and refastened his robe as he rose to his feet. “Let us do this thing then, and return quickly so that
I may speak to Auslic and tell him how I feel. Come, brother. As Jos is wont to say, the sooner begun, a job is done.” He
extended his hand to Carn. Carn took it reluctantly and then stood to face Braldt, the two of them looking deep into each
other’s eyes, taking each other’s measure. Neither was reassured by what he saw.
8
Braldt began to suspect that they were being followed during the long hours of the afternoon. They had crossed the boundary of the Duroni lands and were now traveling across the
softly undulating hills of the Forbidden Lands. The pace was slower than it had been, for Beast would not allow himself to
be picked up and he lagged well behind them. Carn’s ankle had begun to bleed and the bandage was stained crimson, but he would
not stop, shrugging off the wound even though Braldt could see that it was paining him.
He had paused on the crest of a small hill to find the pup, to make sure that he was still with them, when he first caught
glimpse of the follower. At first he thought that he had been mistaken, that it was a trick of the light, for it vanished
almost immediately and did not reappear. He did not say anything to Carn, preferring to make certain before he spoke, but
subsequent sightings proved his suspicions to be correct. And it was no animal.
He could not tell whether the follower was Duroni, but a Duroni would have no reason to hide and the follower was definitely
attempting to conceal his presence. He was good, fast and clever, moving from one bit of shelter to another; but Braldt was
better.
He wondered if it could be a slaver, one of the roving bands who enslaved and sold those who were vulnerable or too weak to
protect themselves. But this one was traveling alone, at least Braldt could detect no sign of more than one, and slavers were
rarely found in less than large numbers. A wise precaution in view of their practices.
They made an early camp at Braldt’s insistence, stoppingbeside a small rivulet of water that flowed through the narrow valley through which they were traveling. Carn protested, but
it was obvious that his heart was not in it, and he sank to the ground wearily and made no objection when Braldt examined
the wound.
It was ugly. The flesh was red and vastly swollen, the ankle appearing like some grotesque, obscene fruit. A pulse throbbed
visibly and blood still seeped from the torn flesh. “Why did you not speak?” Braldt demanded angrily. “Are you determined
to be brave and silent at the cost of your leg or even your life?” Carn did not reply.
Braldt built a fire quickly and set the gourd of sour milk to warm at its edge. Carn covered his eyes with the back of his
arm and made no sound as Braldt washed the leg and ankle. with water from the small stream. Braldt could feel the heat of
the flesh beneath his hands and knew that if he could not stop the sickness before it grew, Carn might easily lose his leg.
At the very least they would be unable to travel for many days.
Carn had fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep when Braldt slipped out of camp. He had placed both pouches beneath the spread
of a large tree, deep in its shadows, and covered them with his robe. It would not fool anyone for long or sustain close scrutiny,
but with any luck, it would not be necessary.
He crept out of camp silently, glad for once that the pup was nowhere to be seen, and hid himself beneath a clump of cibas,
the acrid stink of their leaves filling his nostrils. He had a clear view of the camp, the burning fire clearly visible
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