“By all the gods,” he panted, mouth gaping wide to draw breath, “what are you two going on about?” Sweat beaded on his brow, dribbled over his fleshy jaw.
“Never mind,” Zera said, struggling to hold back a gale of mirth. “Where are we going?”
Lakaan took a dozen deep breaths before he could respond. Even then, his answer came in fits and starts. “There … across the street … one of Suphtra’s stables. He … had me … ready a cart and a team of burros … before those hunting bastards came.”
At the mention of Sandros and Pathil, the last of Leitos’s hilarity dried up. “Are they-”
“They are Hunters,” Zera interrupted. “They need be nothing more for us to make haste from this damnable city, with all its deceitful friends.”
“Suphtra would not have betrayed you,” Lakaan said, sounding doubtful. “The Hunters forced him to it.”
“Am I to believe,” Zera said icily, “that when Suphtra tried to gut me after I dealt with those jackals, it was a mistake? Or was it because he thought my blood would adorn his blade so prettily?”
“He stabbed you?” Lakaan gasped. “But … why would he want a cart prepared for you?”
“A ruse for you, Lakaan,” Zera said gently, “so that you would never doubt him, and so that you would be out of the way when he betrayed me.”
Leitos remembered the pattering sounds around Zera’s feet, just before they fled the room. “We must tend your wounds.”
“Later,” Zera said. “Take us to this cart, Lakaan … that is, unless, you have decided to turn against me as well?” That she had winced when she moved was not lost on Leitos.
Lakaan recoiled at her accusation. “You know me better than that, Zera,” he said with a dejected sigh.
He turned away and searched the street. Nothing moved, and quiet held sway. Leitos could almost believe Sandros and Pathil were not after them, that Suphtra’s building was not, even now, charring to cinders … that Zera was not slowly bleeding to death.
He touched her arm, drawing her attention. The strange inner light normally burning in her eyes had faded, and her movements seemed sluggish. She swayed more than ever. “We have to stop the bleeding,” he said, mustering all the calm authority he could.
For a moment he thought she would castigate him, but she relented and gave him a wan smile. “I will see to that. There is time-believe me, I know.”
With no choice but to accept her assurance, Leitos nodded. He moved closer. She surprised him by draping an arm across his thin shoulders. He took her weight and wrapped a hand around her waist, his fingers sinking into the blood soaking her cloak. She hissed in pain at his touch, and gently moved his hand lower. “Keep a firm grip,” she said, leaning more heavily on him.
“All is clear,” Lakaan said. He trundled into the open, angling across the street toward a low, squat building with a rail fence jutting off one side.
“Lakaan?” a tremulous voice called out when the trio came within a few paces of a set of wide doors.
“Be at ease, Toron, it is I,” Lakaan answered. “Is all in order?”
“Yes, but I feared you were not coming,” Toron said, popping up from behind a pair of barrels sitting to one side of the stable doors. Clad in an ankle-length, dirty white tunic, he was as slight as Leitos and two hands shorter. He started at sounds not there, and his hands fidgeted at his waist. The boy was shaking from head to toe.
Lakaan eyed him a moment, then opened one stable door and vanished into the waiting gloom. Leitos and Zera came next, followed by Toron. As soon as the boy closed the door, Lakaan caught his shoulders. “Where is your father?”
Toron squeaked and tried to worm away. After a moment, he gave up. “Sons of the Fallen,” he said in a fearful whisper. “They took him, not long after you came earlier. The patrols are everywhere this night.”
“Alon’mahk’lar taking prisoners?” Lakaan thought about that, then turned the boy and gave him a swat on the backside to get him moving. “Get yourself to bed, boy. If anyone calls at your door, do not answer.”
“Is my father coming back?” Toron asked, tears in his voice.
Lakaan nodded. “Nimah knows what he is about, boy, trust in that. He will return.”
Leitos was not sure he believed that, but Lakaan’s pledge held enough promise for Toron. The boy bobbed his head and scurried away.
“You two get the cart,” Zera spoke up, each word an effort. “I’ll follow at a distance.”
“Where are we heading?” Lakaan asked.
“West,” Zera said, “as far as the road will take you.”
Lakaan’s face tightened, but he did not argue.
Zera pulled away from Leitos and staggered deeper into the stable. Leitos tried to follow, but she waved him off. “I’ll be fine. Just go. Hurry.”
“Come along, boy,” Lakaan rumbled, clapping a huge hand on his shoulder. “She is not new to this game.”
With a reluctant nod, Leitos followed after Lakaan’s lumbering bulk. He cast a lingering glance at the patch of darkness into which Zera had vanished.
Lakaan led them to a stall that let out on the fenced paddock. Within the stall waited a pair of burros harnessed to a cart that, by Leitos’s estimation, should have been broken up and used for a cook fire many years before. Lakaan peeled back the tattered canvas stretched over the back of the cart’s bed, revealing several bundles, tall clay pots with hempen cords to secure their tops, tools similar to those used in mines, and coils of rope. Satisfied, Lakaan replaced the tarp.
“If we are halted by anyone,” Lakaan warned, “keep your mouth shut, and let me do the talking. I’m just a poor crofter with need to dig a well, and you are my mute bastard.”
“What about Zera?”
Lakaan gave him a quizzical look. “I should not have to tell you, boy, that Zera can take care of herself-anything you or I do on her account will only foul things up.”
“She is injured,” Leitos said, thinking that she must be, even now, bandaging her wound to staunch the flow of blood.
“That is when a Hunter-her in particular-is most dangerous,” Lakaan said uneasily, as if he wanted no dealings with Zera at her most lethal.
Leitos peered into the motionless gloom, but saw no sign of Zera. He imagined her slumped in some dark corner, emerald eyes fading to a hint of their former luster, glazing over-
Leitos spun away from Lakaan and moved back toward the shadows where Zera had vanished. He had left her at the gorge, but not this time, never again. Every step he took eased the burden on his heart. He was done leaving behind those he loved.
Love? The word filled him with a storm of joyful confusion. What do I know of love? His pace quickened, as if carrying him away from the thought. Perhaps he was deluded, perhaps not, but in the end all that mattered was that he had to get back to Zera and help as he could.
Heavy footsteps sounded behind him. Without slowing, he looked over his shoulder. Lakaan bore down on him, face set in a scowl. “We will go when Zera is safe,” Leitos said.
“We will do as she told us,” Lakaan responded, reaching out.
Leitos quickened his pace. I am coming, Zera-
A stony fist crashed into the back of his head, catapulting Leitos into the dirt. Dazed, he rolled over, trying to get his bearings. His arms and legs refused to work right, and Lakaan’s bulk swam into view. The big man struck him again, and a false night fell over Leitos.
Chapter 22
A pale splash of rose and gold washed away the night’s persistent indigo stain. The air cooled in the hour before first light, giving Leitos something to consider besides Zera’s absence, Lakaan’s abuses, and his own aching head.
Feet padding along between the cart’s thin wheel tracks, Leitos walked with his face lost in the shadow of his hood. When he had come to, he found himself trussed in the back of the cart, the canvas rolled back. Twisting about, he had seen the night-shrouded desert, but no sign of Zuladah.