they walked they gradually worked their way into the midst of the group. Atheris seemed relieved as the distance grew between the pilgrims and the camp.
They had not gone far, however, when three of the caravan guards rode up and around the pilgrims, stopping the priests. Atheris tensed, and Peri found herself holding her breath; she thrust her hand into her tunic and shoved the wrapped gold into her sleeve, scuffing another hole in the ground with her toe. If the guards were going to search the crowd, she could drop the gold and bury it quickly, although she wasn’t sure what good that would do. If she was searched, her disguise would quickly be penetrated, and she doubted that Bregondish spies discovered in Sarkond fared any better than thieves.
An animated conversation took place between the guards and the priests; one of the priests waved in annoyance at the crowd of waiting worshipers, and Peri went very still as the guards glanced searchingly over the crowd. She felt as if that gaze pierced right through the robes and rags hiding her. Two of the guards turned their horses and rode directly into the crowd, glancing to the left and right as they wove their horses slowly through the crowd, and Peri’s heart leaped into her mouth as she realized they were probably looking for the stolen blankets or other recognizable goods taken from the caravan.
Peri forced herself to take a deep breath. There was nothing remarkable about her or Atheris or anything they carried openly—except for the fact that she was standing here staring and shaking like a child caught with his hand in the honey jar. Resolutely she relaxed, dropping her eyes, trying to mimic the vague curiosity she saw in the expressions of those around her.
One of the horses turned in her direction and Peri’s heart nearly stopped. She shifted slightly, moving her arm so she could feel the comfortable solidity of her sword. At last, however, one of the guards shrugged, beckoning to the others; they turned their horses back south and rode away. Peri heard a sigh and glanced at Atheris; apparently he’d been holding his breath, too.
“Next time,” she whispered, clenching her hands to stop their shaking, “I’ll do the stealing.”
“Yes,” Atheris breathed, very softly indeed. He stared unwaveringly at the ground.
The procession started again and they walked on. Despite the danger of her situation, despite the diseased and disfigured and sometimes horrifying pilgrims around her and the fact that she was walking ever deeper into Sarkond, Peri felt unaccountably cheered. The caravan guards hadn’t found her, and at least she was out of that wagon walking in the open air. The leaden sky above her was still sky, the rocky and hostile land under her feet was still land, and the faint breeze carrying the smell of diseased and unwashed flesh was still a breeze.
They paused at midday; those who had food ate, and those who did not, rested. Atheris pulled bread and dried meat from his pack, and Peri squatted down, trying to find some way to get the food past the bandages wrapping her face; then a chill ran down her spine, a vague but growing certainty that someone was watching her. Fighting to keep her hand from her sword hilt, she turned slowly—
—and found herself gazing into the very wide eyes of a thin young woman, hardly more than a child herself, a weakly crying toddler in her arms. The baby’s thin face was covered by an angry red rash, and the woman was staring not at Peri, but at the bread and meat in her hand. Peri held out the food, nodding encouragingly; the girl hesitated for a moment, then took it, mumbling her thanks. She started to turn away. Peri debated with herself one second longer, then touched the girl’s shoulder, cursing her disguise, and gestured at the child. The girl’s eyes widened and she clutched her baby tightly, protectively.
Atheris muttered a curse under his breath, which Peri heard, but he stepped forward, smiling
They had not gone far, however, when three of the caravan guards rode up and around the pilgrims, stopping the priests. Atheris tensed, and Peri found herself holding her breath; she thrust her hand into her tunic and shoved the wrapped gold into her sleeve, scuffing another hole in the ground with her toe. If the guards were going to search the crowd, she could drop the gold and bury it quickly, although she wasn’t sure what good that would do. If she was searched, her disguise would quickly be penetrated, and she doubted that Bregondish spies discovered in Sarkond fared any better than thieves.
An animated conversation took place between the guards and the priests; one of the priests waved in annoyance at the crowd of waiting worshipers, and Peri went very still as the guards glanced searchingly over the crowd. She felt as if that gaze pierced right through the robes and rags hiding her. Two of the guards turned their horses and rode directly into the crowd, glancing to the left and right as they wove their horses slowly through the crowd, and Peri’s heart leaped into her mouth as she realized they were probably looking for the stolen blankets or other recognizable goods taken from the caravan.
Peri forced herself to take a deep breath. There was nothing remarkable about her or Atheris or anything they carried openly—except for the fact that she was standing here staring and shaking like a child caught with his hand in the honey jar. Resolutely she relaxed, dropping her eyes, trying to mimic the vague curiosity she saw in the expressions of those around her.
One of the horses turned in her direction and Peri’s heart nearly stopped. She shifted slightly, moving her arm so she could feel the comfortable solidity of her sword. At last, however, one of the guards shrugged, beckoning to the others; they turned their horses back south and rode away. Peri heard a sigh and glanced at Atheris; apparently he’d been holding his breath, too.
“Next time,” she whispered, clenching her hands to stop their shaking, “I’ll do the stealing.”
“Yes,” Atheris breathed, very softly indeed. He stared unwaveringly at the ground.
The procession started again and they walked on. Despite the danger of her situation, despite the diseased and disfigured and sometimes horrifying pilgrims around her and the fact that she was walking ever deeper into Sarkond, Peri felt unaccountably cheered. The caravan guards hadn’t found her, and at least she was out of that wagon walking in the open air. The leaden sky above her was still sky, the rocky and hostile land under her feet was still land, and the faint breeze carrying the smell of diseased and unwashed flesh was still a breeze.
They paused at midday; those who had food ate, and those who did not, rested. Atheris pulled bread and dried meat from his pack, and Peri squatted down, trying to find some way to get the food past the bandages wrapping her face; then a chill ran down her spine, a vague but growing certainty that someone was watching her. Fighting to keep her hand from her sword hilt, she turned slowly—
—and found herself gazing into the very wide eyes of a thin young woman, hardly more than a child herself, a weakly crying toddler in her arms. The baby’s thin face was covered by an angry red rash, and the woman was staring not at Peri, but at the bread and meat in her hand. Peri held out the food, nodding encouragingly; the girl hesitated for a moment, then took it, mumbling her thanks. She started to turn away. Peri debated with herself one second longer, then touched the girl’s shoulder, cursing her disguise, and gestured at the child. The girl’s eyes widened and she clutched her baby tightly, protectively.
Atheris muttered a curse under his breath, which Peri heard, but he stepped forward, smiling
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