"Our horses are stabled on the edge of town. You and Cleverdon get them and take them to the edge of the marsh just north of here. Cleverdon will know where I mean."
Droopface nodded silently.
"Wait for me there," added Ursa. "I'll join you as soon as I can. If Cinnamon can be sprung, I'm the man." Some of his old cockiness had returned.
Droopface shifted, and Kit got up to go with him. Ursa put a hand on her arm. "Wait, Kit," he said. "How about that purse?"
Her mouth opened to protest.
"For bribes," he grinned, "and other operating expenses."
With a sigh she felt in her pocket and handed it over. Ursa was right: she might as well trust him. And she hadn't had any illusions about holding onto her gold for very long anyway.
The three of them moved out of the alleyway between two buildings, Kit and Droopface going off in one direction, Ursa melting into the crowd in the other. After they had split up, a cloaked figure emerged from a nearby doorway, gazing after them. If Kitiara had looked back, she would have recognized the dark elf from the Silver Gar.
Chapter 13
Kitiara and Droopface had been waiting at the designated rendezvous, on the edge of a reedy marsh ten miles east of Vocalion, for almost two days. At first Kit was patient, but as time wore on she grew restless, worrying that something had happened to Ursa.
Their makeshift camp was concealed by a cover of tall fireweed and sawgrass, away from the main road. All around them was a sparsely wooded lowland plain dotted with ponds and ice. To the north Kit could glimpse a snow-dappled range of mountains.
During their wait Droopface had said little, as was his wont. If the tall, stooped, lugubrious one was at all worried by Ursa's absence, he did not show it. He had reverted to his usual self, stoically reading his tome of magic, his lips moving soundlessly as he occasionally slobbered over the pages.
At last, when it seemed as if her nerves were about to burst from the waiting. Kit heard a clatter of hooves and then the sounds of several horses that had left the highway and were pounding in their direction. She realized that Droopface must have been more concerned than he let on, for he had stood up and was fidgeting expectantly.
Ursa hove into sight, and Kit's heart leaped when she saw the horse that was trotting behind his own. "Cinnamon!" she cried joyously, and rushed forward to untie her father's horse and give Cinnamon an unabashed hug. "How did you get her back?" she demanded of Ursa. "How-"
Even as she asked that question, Kit became aware of another rider close on Ursa's heels, pulling up on a skewbald pony. This new arrival had long, free-flowing sandy hair entwined with feathers and was wearing a painted leather vest and chaps. Yet what took Kit most by surprise was that the stranger was a young woman.
This female addition to the group dismounted gracefully. She was rather short, almost pygmy-like in stature, but obviously limber and strong. She eyed Kit, fingering the dagger thrust into her belt.
"It wasn't easy," bragged Ursa, tying his horse as he gave a rippling laugh. "That ship's captain, I think he wanted to keep your horse as his own. Cinnamon was getting the royal treatment. They kept a constant guard over her, and I could barely get near her without raising suspicion. I learned, however, that she was taken off ship, twice daily, for a walkabout. I figured the ship would only be in port for about a week. That gave me time to arrange an old trick."
Turning back toward Kit, Ursa realized that she was staring hard at the new woman, who met her look coolly.
"Oh," said Ursa, enjoying his little surprise. "This is Colo. She's been riding with Cleverdon and me for several months now. Colo, this is Kitiara-I told you about her."
"You didn't tell me about Colo," said Kit tersely.
The other stood her ground.
"Colo's stealthy," enthused Ursa, "and good in a fight.
Ask Droopface."
Droopface, who had sat back down, murmured his assent.
As Kit weighed this information, her face relaxed. "Kitiara Uth Matar," she said, proffering her hand in a greeting.
Colo declined the hand, raking Kit over with a glance before hurrying off and squatting a few feet distant from the three of them with her back to the campsite, busying herself at something. Peeking over her shoulder, Kit could see that the diminutive female mercenary was engaged in throwing a cup of stones and bones, poring over their configuration.
"Not very friendly," Kit grumped, albeit good-naturedly, to Ursa. The mercenary had sat down on a rock near the fire that she and Droopface had started. Kit poured herself some tea from a container that had been warming over the low flames.
"It's not your fault," said Ursa, his eyebrows furrowed. "She's convinced we're under an ill omen."
"How cheerful."
Ursa began to unpack his bedroll. "Just a run of bad luck," he said, his mouth set in a hard, thin line. "It started four months ago, when Radisson was killed and El-Navar disappeared. We've been on the run ever since. Haven't been able to get back into things. She thinks we're being followed."
"Followed?" asked Kit. "By who?"
"Whoever it was, we lost them," boasted Ursa confidently. "We've been zigzagging between places and covering our tracks. Our luck is starting to turn. Isn't my liberation of Cinnamon proof of that?"
"What about Radisson-and El-Navar?" Kit felt compelled to ask. "You haven't told me what happened to them."
He sat on a rock opposite her. Kit noticed that Droopface had set down his book and was listening intently. Colo was paying them no attention, her back still turned, consulting her oracles.
"We were outside a small nothing village, across the channel and three hundred miles southwest of here. Radisson went into town with El-Navar looking for some drink and-" he watched Kit's reaction "-female companionship. They went into a tavern called the Double Shiner. Everybody knows about the place, an old standby for wayfarers in those parts. They should have been safe there. We were forty miles from any enemies, forty miles from our last job."
"But there had been signs," ventured Droopface solemnly.
Kitiara was so surprised to hear the sad-faced mercenary speak so adamantly that she nearly dropped her tin cup into the fire. Ursa, reaching over to pour himself a mug of tea, nodded at Droopface's comment.
"Yes. Somebody or something had been following us. I don't know who or why. There were strange birds in the sky and unfamiliar noises at night. I thought it was wiser to stay clear of people, stick together. But Radisson wanted to get away and have some pleasure, and El-Navar said he would go with him." He paused, frowning. "They ought to have been safe. Radisson can outwit most regular people, and El-Navar has the strength of a half-dozen."
"What happened?" asked Kit anxiously.
"Don't know," Droopface shook his head ruefully. "Don't know."
"When they didn't come back," continued Ursa, "we went into town to look for them. The Double Shiner had been leveled-destroyed. It was almost as if it had been uprooted and ripped to bits and sucked away somewhere, so that the ground was littered with its remnants.
"Everything was gone but its center post, from which dangled Radisson's body. He wore no clothing. His eyes had been dug out, and over his body were scribblings done with a knife point. A thousand little cuts and holes and markings all over his body."
"And El-Navar?" Kit tried to keep her voice even, while in her mind flashed memories of the sinewy Karnuthian. She remembered his deep, mellifluous voice; the hair like writhing snakes; the gentleness of his touch; the power of a panther that lay dormant within him.