The last of the gathering was a seven-foot, broad-shouldered man with a gray-streaked, rust-colored beard. When the man looked up from beneath a wide-brimmed hat with stone-gray eyes, Oliver knew he’d met him before.
“And this is—” Frost began when he came to the man, the last introduction.
“Wayland Smith,” Oliver interrupted. “I remember you from Amelia’s.”
“Yes,” Smith replied. “That was…regrettable.”
The man was a weaponsmaster and forger, as well as a magician. And as far as Oliver was concerned, he could not be trusted. Smith toyed briefly with the fox-head of his cane, then rested it against the table.
After the introductions, that odd convocation began to eat. The beef had been marinated in some exotic spice, and Oliver thought it was among the most delicious things he had ever tasted. The boiled potatoes likewise surprised him. They had clearly been boiled as part of some other recipe, simmering with herbs and spices, and the flavor was rich, the potatoes creamy.
Several minutes passed in relative silence as the travelers began to sate their hunger. Low conversation went on amongst the local Borderkind. Frost was deep in thought and whispered several times to Blue Jay. Kitsune watched them, and Oliver thought she was irked to be left out of whatever scheme they were hatching.
His attention returned every few moments to Cheval Bayard and Chorti. The pair were such an unlikely duo—this beautiful, distant woman and her hirsute companion with his metal fangs and claws—that Oliver found himself unable to stop puzzling over them.
“Do you find her beautiful?” Kitsune whispered to him as the others continued their meal.
Oliver frowned and glanced at her, startled by the intensity of her eyes as she searched his own for the answer to that question.
“I suppose she is,” he admitted, “but I was just curious. They make a strange pair.”
Kitsune’s expression softened. “Sometimes the most opposite people make the closest friends. That’s true on both sides of the Veil.”
Oliver nodded, unconvinced.
She leaned in and lowered her voice further. “Cheval and her husband were traveling in Yucatazca. They were set upon in the jungle by bandits. Chorti came to their aid. He saved Cheval’s life but was too late to stop her husband from being murdered. The two of them fought the bandits together. None of the bandits survived. Cheval and Chorti have been inseparable since. Neither ever goes anywhere without the other.”
Oliver glanced around the room as Kitsune told this story, not wishing to be caught staring at the beast-man and the silver-haired woman as they ate. The tragic story touched him, but it also reinforced the melancholy he was feeling at the prospect of setting off on his own to find Collette. Loyalty like that which Cheval Bayard and Chorti shared was precious.
“All right, my friends,” Kitsune said when much of the meal had been consumed and the sharpest edge of their hunger blunted. She met Oliver’s gaze across the table, then opened her hands to include them all. “Shall we get on with this? We are all, each of us at this table, in danger. But the stakes are much higher than our own lives.”
She glared at Coyote, who only raised an eyebrow.
Frost tapped his fingers on the table again to get their attention. “Someone has set the Hunters after the Borderkind. All the Borderkind. Or nearly all. We have learned firsthand that some are collaborating with the Hunters, presumably to spare their own lives. Jenny Greenteeth was a traitor. She helped the Hunters track us, and for that, she died with them.”
“Not Jenny,” said Cheval Bayard. A tear slid down her cheek and she turned from them as she wiped it away.
“The bitch,” Coyote said, his voice flat.
Oliver studied him, wondering if any of this was news. Coyote seemed to know much more than someone who had been in hiding ought to be privy to. Either that, or it was simply the arrogant air about him.
“We prevailed, but not without losses. Gong Gong is dead.”
Chorti growled deep in his chest and his upper lip curled back from those razor-blade teeth. The frog-thing muttered something in his guttural tongue.
“He will be missed,” Wayland Smith said. The old man reached up to tip his hat back, golden afternoon sunshine lighting his face. There was a kindness there that Oliver had not seen before. And now a sadness as well.
“This conspiracy against us must have been brewing for some time. First quietly, with a few killings scattered around the Two Kingdoms, and then more, until they had us all on guard or on the run,” Frost continued. “If we had acted more swiftly, gathered together, we would have had a better chance of fighting back. But we are too solitary, all of us. Those who learned of the threat looked to their own safety without considering the danger to their kin.”
At this, Frost glanced pointedly at Coyote.
Kitsune and Blue Jay nodded slowly.
Coyote slapped the table, sneering. His eyes were still crazy, twitchy, but now there was a bestial cast to his features that had not been there before.
“You’ll watch your tone and insinuations, Frost. What could I have done to save Gong Gong and the others who’ve died? Me alone? The Hunters would have roasted me on a spit.”
“Perhaps it’s not too late,” Kitsune snarled.
“Enough,” Blue Jay said. His tone was quiet, but with an edge that calmed them all. “We are all kin, and there are many more of us who are in danger. The river flows, and we cannot concern ourselves with what is already past, only with what comes next.”
Wayland Smith smoothed his unruly beard. “I expect Frost has a plan.”
The winter man cocked his head slightly as though searching for some insult hidden in Smith’s words. After a moment, he nodded.
“I do, though it isn’t much of one, I’m afraid. The Falconer died by my hand. Before he did, he revealed the name of the one who had set the Hunters after the Borderkind. Our enemy is Ty’Lis, an Atlantean sorcerer who advises in the court of Yucatazca’s king.”
Chorti sat up abruptly and shook his shaggy head.
“I’m sorry, Chorti, but I speak truth. It would be dangerous to presume that Ty’Lis is acting on instructions from the king, but we must at least consider the possibility. The probability, really.”
“He must be taking orders from the king,” Coyote sniffed. “Atlanteans have been neutral since the creation of the Veil. That is why both kingdoms use them as advisors. Hell, it’s the Atlanteans who created the truce to begin with. Without them, there’d be no Two Kingdoms at all.”
Blue Jay glanced at Frost and Kitsune. “He’s right, you know.”
“I only mean that we must consider both possibilities,” Frost replied.
Kitsune pushed a curtain of silken black hair away from her face and scanned the Borderkind around the table. She barely seemed to notice Oliver at all, and he wondered if he had somehow upset her.
“Whoever it is, they are powerful. The Hunters have used Doors through the Veil with unrestrained freedom. The sentries at the Doors have either been disposed of and replaced, paid for their cooperation, or are following orders. Influence is the key here. We could question the sentries, trace the influence back to the snake giving orders.
“But, really, king or sorcerer, what does it matter?” the fox-woman asked. “What we need to discover is what our enemy hopes to gain by destroying the Borderkind.”
Cheval Bayard raised her chin. She inclined her head respectfully toward Kitsune. “I would like the answer to that question as well. But is it really vital? The enemy must be stopped. It would be difficult to combat the Hunters, but if we directly attack the one who commands them, surely that will end the threat?”
“I agree,” Frost said. “With time against us, and more of our number dying by the day, the swiftest course is our only choice. We must travel back through Euphrasia and into Yucatazca, gathering as many Borderkind as we can along the way, find Ty’Lis, and force the truth from him. When he is dead, the Hunters will stop.”
“You hope,” Oliver said, surprised at the sound of his own voice.