“Curious, this crystal,” the man said. “Probably a cheap bauble of glass, but fair enough.”
“You’re no judge,Torne,” Jendara said.“See how it catches the light? A fine crystal, I judge. What I find curious is that a simple Greenie possesses all this excellent stuff. Maybe she’s really a thief.”
“Now what would a thief be doing delivering messages to the king? You heard what she said about the jewelry being her mother’s.”
“I guess you’re right, but she’s a stupid Greenie to be carrying these jewels on a road such as this.”
Karigan closed her eyes. The thought of the mercenary Jendara wearing her mother’s troth ring made the bile rise in her throat. How could she get it back? Even if she did manage to loosen her bonds, how could she ever hope to escape two thoroughly trained mercenaries? Arms Master Rendle had taught her much in the few sessions they had had together, but she possessed neither the practice nor the strength to match Jendara and Torne.
“What are you thinking, Greenie?” Karigan opened her eyes only to find them level with the toes of Torne’s boots. “I can tell you aren’t asleep.”
She spat on his boots.
“I’ll say one thing for you,” Torne said, “you may not be a spirit rider, but you are spirited!” He laughed at his own joke while Jendara cast him a disgusted look as if she had to endure his humor more than she wanted. “Tomorrow we continue our travels so we can meet up with Captain Immerez. I expect you to be on good behavior, thief. Yes, you will be a thief, girl. Folks on the road will be less likely to take pity on you. One word about Green Riders and I’ll put you in the spirit world.” He guffawed again, and before Karigan could move to lessen the blow, he kicked her in the ribs.
Pain exploded through her body as Torne’s laughter assaulted her ears. Each breath she took ripped her side. In a haze of pain, she thought she saw F’ryan Coblebay, white and gauzy, standing among the trees. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, he was gone.
Karigan trudged through ankle-deep mud with her head bowed. A storm stirred up the treetops and rain pelted from the dark sky. A crack of lightning shattered the darkness. At first Torne wasn’t going to give Karigan any protection from the weather. They had no extra cloaks, and he did not want to give away her “identity” by letting her wear the greatcoat. Surprisingly, Jendara insisted he let Karigan wear it.
“The horse and gear will give her away anyhow,” the mercenary woman said. “We can say she stole it all. She’s a thief, remember? Besides, there can’t be too many idiots on the road on a day like this.” She glared at Torne significantly since it had been his idea to travel despite the storm, instead of holing up somewhere dry.
Torne relented, but by the time Karigan was permitted to wear the greatcoat, she was already soaked through. She drew the hood up over her head with her tied hands, and searched the pockets for the bunchberry flower and sprig of bayberry in vain. The mercenaries must have discarded them as worthless. She sighed in despair. There was no hope of help this time—she’d have to find her own way out.
The damp caused her ribs to ache dully, but the sharp pains had subsided and she could breathe easier. Her wrists were swollen red beneath the bandages. Torne had not allowed her to wrap a fresh dressing around the burns.
“How’d you get burned anyway?” he asked. “Clumsy with a campfire?”
The question wasn’t even worth the dignity of an answer. A campfire, indeed! She wished another creature would attack—then see if Torne could do as well as she had. She fantasized about huge claws squeezing his midsection, squeezing him so hard that his eyes popped out.
Lightning struck somewhere nearby with a deafening crack. The Horse snorted and sidestepped nervously. Karigan grimaced as a tingling sensation crept its way up through her feet all the way to the roots of her hair. The thunder rumbled away and Karigan thought, Idiots. They don’t have the sense to find cover in a lightning storm.
She was mollified by the fact that if any one of them were to be scorched by lightning, it would be Torne or Jendara for the swords they carried at their sides. It was not an unpleasant thought.
Even now, oblivious to the dangers of the storm, they took turns riding The Horse. At first he pulled away, but Torne threatened to sever his tendons again. Karigan commanded him to be still. He looked at her with wide eyes and snorted defiantly, but tolerated being mounted. Neither mercenary sat upon him for long, however.
“One must have a bottom of steel to ride this beast,” Jendara declared. “I suppose he will serve as a pack animal.”
The Horse tossed his mane at the insult. Karigan smiled smugly to herself—his gaits were smooth as butter when desired.
They continued down the road as thunder drummed low and far away, over some distant part of Sacoridia.
The mercenaries were not very generous with her food supplies, Karigan thought. They crouched beneath some trees by the road at midday. The rain had dwindled to a steady drizzle and the last bit of storm had rumbled away an hour ago. Already the biters were stirring to a frenzy in the damp.
Karigan’s stomach growled as she picked pieces of mold off the crust of hard bread Torne had tossed her. Torne smacked his lips over dried meat as if it was a feast. Jendara was a bit more dainty, but not much. The two must not have eaten in a while. What kind of mercenaries were they if they couldn’t hunt up the occasional hare or squirrel? Even she had learned a thing or two about trapping and hunting from the cargo master, though it wasn’t a skill she used often.