It was fortunate that there had been several days of stormy weather, and the horses were stabled below in the caves. The blizzard raging outside would make the journey more difficult and dangerous, but Zanna was sure she only needed to get as far as some kind of shelter that night. Then, having lost the pursuers that Remana would no doubt send after her, she would be able to continue in daylight. Surely it wouldn’t be too difficult to find her way over the moors to Nexis? She hoped not.
Zanna peeped around the side of the archway to look for the watchman who guarded the ships at night. He came into view, his footsteps crunching on the shingle beach, and she heaved a sigh of relief. So far, her plan was working out. The watchman was Tarnal. She had forced herself to wait, with scant patience, until the night when he would be on duty. Taking a deep breath, Zanna stepped out to meet him.
“You’re up late!” Tarnal sounded surprised, but as she had expected, his brown eyes brightened at the sight of her.
Oh dear, Zanna thought, I hope I don’t get him into too much trouble! She arranged a smile on her face. “I couldn’t B sleep,” she told him ruefully. “Even though we’re underground in here, the storm still seems to bother me.”
“Ah, that happens to a lot of us smugglers,” Tarnal assured her. “It means you’re weather-wise, as we call it. You have the makings of a good Nightrunner, Zanna.”
He grinned at her shyly, and she understood all too well what was on his mind. He’d been mooning after her for ages, but of all the times to .wart getting romantic . . . Oh dear, Zanna thought. Not now, Tarnal, please! “Anyway,” she said briskly, “since I couldn’t sleep, I thought I’d come down to the stable to see if Piper is all right.”
Tarnal’s face lit up.. “Good idea,” he said. “You never know with horses in this wild weather. Tell you what, I’ll come along in case you need any help.”
Oh no you don’t, Zanna thought grimly. If you get me alone in that nice, warm, bracken-filled cavern . . . “That’s very kind of you, Tarnal,” she said swiftly, “but if Yanis found out that you’d left your post, you would be in a lot of trouble!” She gave him a conspiratorial wink. “Stay here, Tarnal, I’ll be back shortly, don’t worry.” With that, she beat a hasty retreat, praying that he wouldn’t take it into his head to follow her.
The stable cavern was warm with the press of animal bodies. As she entered, replacing the heavy hurdle that barred the exit behind her, Zanna could hear the soft huffing sound of horses breathing in the shadows, followed by a rustle of straw and a scrape of hoof on stone as the sleepy creatures became aware of her presence. Great, lustrous eyes swung in her direction, gleaming like jewels as they reflected the light of the lamp that she carried. Stretching on tiptoe, Zanna reached up and placed the lamp carefully in a niche carved high in the rocky wall on her right-hand side. There were strict rules about keeping any kind of flame away from the tinder-dry bracken that covered the cavern floor. One spark, and the cave would become an inferno within seconds.
Shuffling through the deep-drifted bedding, Zanna moved along the wall until she came to the row of pegs, hammered into a natural transverse crack in the stone, that held saddles and bridles. Rummaging under a pile of bracken, she unearthed her warm cloak and the bundle of food and belongings that she’d hidden there earlier in the evening. Rather than lugging the whole lot, along with the ungainly, flapping saddle, through the mass of restless animals, she decided to catch Piper first, and bring him here. Unhooking his bridle from its peg, she took an apple from the pocket of her skirt, and wriggled her way carefully between the milling horses, calling softly for the piebald pony.
Piper came to her calling. She had been teaching him to do this by bringing him a treat every tinae she wanted to ride him. Zanna smiled as he snuffled greedily into her palm and scrunched the fruit in a single bite. While he was looking for more, she slipped the bridle into place and fastened the buckle quickly. Then, despite her hurry, she threw her arms around Piper’s arching neck, burying her face in his streaming black-and-white mane to stifle her sobbing. Oh Gods, she did love him so! And Remana, and Yanis and Antor and Tarnal, and all the others . . .
The pony snorted, and turned his head to nibble at her pocket, his ears cocked forward hopefully. She had no more apples, however; all he found was her handkerchief, which he tugged out anyway. Zanna’s sobbing turned to shaky laughter. “Why, thank you, you clever creature!” she told him. Having retrieved her chewed and rather soggy possession, she led the pony to the place near the wall where she had left her belongings.
Tethering Piper to a handy peg, Zanna turned to lift the saddle down—always a stretch for her, because of her short stature. Placing it carefully on the pony’s back, she stooped under his belly to find the dangling girth—and jerked upright with a yelp as a hand grasped her shoulder. “Tarnal! I told you not to—” Zanna spun round, her heart hammering with shock—to find herself in the arms of Yanis.
“I’ve been waiting for you to make a run for it, ever since we told you about your dad,” the smuggler said. But there was sympathy, not anger, in his face.
“Yanis, please don’t stop me,” Zanna begged. “I must go—I can’t bear it! I have to know, don’t you see . . .” Her eyes overflowed with tears.
“I know, girl. In your place, I’d feel the same,” Yanis told her gently. “But rushing off all alone in a storm is no answer. Why, there’s hard men, experienced men, been lost out on those moors in the blizzards, and all we’ve found come spring was their bones picked clean by wolves. If we found anything at all, that is.”
Zanna stared at him in dismay. For a moment she had hoped to persuade him . . . But though it was obviously not to be, her agile brain was already at work on a new plan. Yanis would be watching the horses like a hawk at first, but if she could allay his suspicions long enough . . .
“All right.” She sighed, and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry, Yanis, I didn’t know the moors were so dangerous, but now you’ve explained it to me.” Zanna caught her breath, suddenly very conscious of his arms around her, aware that this was the first time he had touched her since the day of her arrival. She didn’t want him to let her go, but if her new scheme was to work, it was imperative that she fool him into thinking that she was resigned to her fate. Sighing, she pushed him away, and turned to go.
“Wait!” Yanis caught hold of her arm. “I know what you’re thinking, Zanna—that you only need wait a while and then you can try again. Only it won’t work, see?”
Zanna gasped, furious that he had outguessed her. “And just how did you manage to work that out?” she said acidly.
The young smuggler’s face darkened. “I know what you think of me,” he said stiffly, “but that’s the first time you’ve come near calling me daft to my face. Well, let me tell you something—there’s stupid and stupid, and it didn’t take much for me to realize what you were up to. All I did was put myself into your shoes for a minute. I would never have given up so easily, and I knew for sure that you wouldn’t, loving your dad like you do!” His grip around Zanna’s arm tightened, as he continued. “The Nightrunners can’t let you go running off to get killed, you little idiot! I won’t let you! I’m a patient man, believe me, and it’s winter, so I’ve nothing better to do. Get used to having me around, girl, because I plan to be your shadow from now on!”
Zanna stared at him openmouthed, too outraged to speak. She stared into that rugged, handsome face, those dark gray eyes that were sparking with anger, the mouth that was hard now, and unyielding. Not long ago, Vannor’s daughter would have been overjoyed at the thought of having Yanis constantly at her side. Now, the idea filled her with rage and frustration. “Damn you!” she yelled—and kicked him as hard as she could in the shin. “I might just as well be your prisoner!”