What would I do if it was me searching? Hannah thought about it. She knew. She would send the hunters to the farthest places a girl could run in two days along the roads and begin a house to house search. The reward money would draw more people hunting her. Even those not after her would search, like the farmer boy last night. Whole families would be hunting her. Farmers would keep their eyes on the forests searching for the girl worth a treasure.
Without her disguise, several would have already found her. Only the blacksmith had suspected, and he had ignored who she was. She felt certain that he knew, but for reasons of his own, he ignored her and the reward.
She squatted on the hillside and watched. Three men on horses were moving back and forth, scattered, so one always saw everything on the road ahead. A wagon appeared, the back of it filled with men in uniform. The wagon pulled to a stop at the head of the valley, and the men climbed out, one taking charge. Hannah couldn’t hear the words, but at a wave of his arm, they split into two groups, one on either side of the road, perhaps five or six men in each group. They headed for the nearest farm, searching every barn, house, outbuilding, and hiding place.
From the hillside, she watched them push a farmer aside as they forcibly entered his house. When the dog barked too much or attacked a searcher, a sword stabbed the dog, and it fell. It was a warning. The farmer backed off and controlled his other dog, but his head kept looking at his dog and the soldiers kept their weapons in hand.
Two more wagons arrived, and more soldiers piled out, again on both sides of the road. The same one who directed the others pointed to the sides of the valley, to the tree line and almost directly at Hannah. Ten men on each side of the road. Ten soldiers started walking to the forest to begin their search.
Hannah had seen enough. She now knew where the soldiers were, and if she moved quickly, they would remain behind her. She went into the forest to prevent an accidental sighting from below and moved quickly and quietly to the end of the valley and over the few hills that separated it from the next valley.
There she waited and watched, heart pounding because she didn’t see the farmhouse where they’d gotten the wagon. She counted to four, and it was not the right farm on either side is the road. It’s at the other end of the valley. Her heart rate slowed, but only a little as she watched the groups of soldiers searching the farms. Others patrolled the road, and she assumed still others were searching the forest where she hid.
The soldiers searching the houses were on the third farm on both sides of the road. If they were doing as in the last valley, they had already searched where she sat, and they were now moving through the trees about the same distance as where the crews on the ground searched. All she had to do was move no faster than them. Behind them, where they had already searched would be the last place they would think to search again.
She imagined the soldiers in the forest, spread out, but within sight of each other and moving at the same rate, looking under and bushes, in the trees above, and behind boulders. If she moved carefully, she could catch up enough to hear them talk. But it was not a game. If one returned for any reason, he would spot her, and she didn’t want to guess what would happen.
Since they started on the road, she decided to enter the forest deeper and move slowly, slower than any soldier would, to avoid accidental encounters. While moving, her hand went to the knife between her shoulders and she pulled it just a hair, just enough to allow it to slide out easier. She let go and reached again and again until her hand knew exactly where the knife sat. As if the hand had a memory of its own, her fingers found, and gripped the hilt where she needed to, if she threw it.
A broken branch still weeping sap told her a soldier had forced his way through a stand of small trees. An overturned rock still wet on the bottom told her she was moving too fast and getting too close. She slowed and waited, listening for a shout of discovery or for one soldier to call to another. She heard nothing but the rustling of leaves and the whisper of the wind in the grass.
In her mind, she built a map of the valley and compared it to the distance she believed she had traveled. The valley was smaller and shorter. She’d moved the length of the valley or most of it. On impulse, she turned in the direction of the road and ran. When she came to the edge of the trees, the valley spread out below.
Her eyes went to the fourth farmhouse, the one where the farmer lived alone. A new wagon sat in front of the barn, and a young mule ate the grass in the pasture. She allowed herself a smile; then movement in the valley caught her attention.
Soldiers were leaving the trees at the far side of the valley. They headed for the wagons waiting to carry them. Men filled one of the wagons. She looked at the last farms and found two groups searching them. The men already in the wagon were from her side of the valley. Probably.
She waited and watched. Before long, all the men were loaded into four wagons and rolled in the direction of the Palace. She breathed easier and stood. As she turned, she found a man standing ten paces away, an evil smile lighting up his face.
“I have nothing to steal,” she said.
“Not planning on stealing, little lady. I’m planning on making my fortune.”
She didn’t feel excited or in danger. The man was small, thin, and his beard held streaks of gray. If she could get a few steps in front, he couldn’t catch her. As if reading her mind, he came closer.
“You’re the one they want.”
“That’s silly. I’m a boy.”
“Liar. I can see right past that soot. It’s you, all right.”
Hannah shrugged. The man wouldn’t be convinced. “They’ll kill me.”
“None of my business,” he said, then spat and flashed a smile that was anything but funny. His clothing hung on him as if he had been heavier at one time. Maybe he was ill or had fallen on hard times, but still a good man.
“I said they'd kill me.”
“And they’ll give me enough gold to buy a whole village. Maybe a tavern where I can serve myself free ale.” He laughed a throaty sound and moved another step closer as he pulled the large knife from his hip. “Don’t you even think about runnin’.”
She was not thinking about running. She thought that one more step closer would bring him to the distance of the post at the blacksmiths. I wish I had more practice. “Just let me go.”
“Yer going all right. I’m taking you to the soldiers down there.” He stepped the one more step closer, slowly and carefully, looking ready to grab her if she ran.
Her hands raised as if in surrender and he visibly relaxed, but her right hand slipped behind her neck to the black knife. She drew it and threw, as the blacksmith had taught her, fast and with power, and her feet were already running to the path on her left when the knife struck him in the chest and froze her in place.
The thin blade of the knife had gone all the way into the hilt, and that was all that remained in sight. The man looked down at it in surprise, his eyes wide. He opened his mouth to say something, but his legs gave way, and he fell forward, limp as if all his bones had been magicked away by a mage.
Hannah waited for more movement, but there were none. Pulling the other knife from her hip, she went closer and warily touched him with her foot. He was dead. She had killed a man. She fell to her knees and shook, the fear and anger combining into a turmoil of conflicting emotions. She vomited. She hugged herself and tried to tell herself she had no choice. But she had killed a man.
The result that might have been if she had not thrown the knife didn’t matter. Not really. His cold, dead eyes watched her. She moved to where she couldn’t see them.