Abioye unwrapped the note and read it quickly before making another grunt of disapproval and rapidly folding the paper back up in into his fist. “Fine. That will be all,” Abioye said.
The heavyset guard glanced at the messenger bird in his hand once more, and then back at Abioye. “Uh—we don’t want to send a message back, sir…?” he started to say.
“It’s fine,” Abioye repeated more sternly. “Let the bird go and tell the others to prepare for a night march. I want all the guards with torches and lanterns lit—”
“And long poles,” I cut in, earning a glare from the guard for having the temerity to interrupt his lord.
“It’s a Daza thing,” I said with a respectful bob of the head. At least if Abioye is determined to take such a foolish action he can pay attention to the wisdom of the people who have lived here for generations! “The guides and people on the edges of the group have long poles, which they test the ground ahead and to the sides of them. There will be mud pits and gullies…” I said, as Abioye nodded.
“Good.” He turned to the guard. “See that it gets done.”
The guard looked between the bird, me, and Abioye before nodding smartly. “As you wish, sire.”
I could see in the guard’s eyes the same apprehension that I felt about entering the Sea of Mists—but unlike the self-righteous Homsgud, this guard appeared used to taking orders that he didn’t agree with, and knew when to keep his questions to himself, as he turned and walked back to the camp, lifting his hands to release the pigeon in his hands as he did so. I watched the bird leap into the sky with a worried hoot, flying around our camp in a clatter of wings several times before picking a westward direction.
You’d be better off flying south, little bird. I threw the thought at it—but I could no more change the minds of birds than I could change Abioye’s, it seemed.
“Abioye,” I murmured after the guard had gone. “Are you okay?” I made a point of looking at his hand which held the message.
The young lordling turned to look at me, and the last rays of the dying sun caught his face, turning it ruddy and blood-cast. I noted that his face had grown leaner in our journey, and now stubble was scattered across his chin where before he had liked to have it scraped off every morning. His eyes were still deep-shadowed from his hyena bite, but they were sharp and clear.
“Ugh,” he murmured, his shoulders slumping a little as he passed the note to me. “It’s Inyene, of course. Being Inyene.”
I unfolded the note and looked at the very scant words that were scrawled in a flowing script. Tamin had taught me a few Middle Kingdom words, but apart from ‘brother’ and ‘scouts’ it was beyond me. I handed the note back, suddenly feeling angry. I bet he thinks I’m stupid, I grumbled.
“Ah, of course.” Abioye shook his head a little, only increasing my sense of uselessness.
Hey! I know how to read the wind and how to track an antelope across a dry savannah, you know! I thought of pointing out to him—but I didn’t. Abioye’s dark expression as he read the note out loud quelled my indignation.
“Brother,
You will be pleased to know that our scouts found your man, Aberforth—who appeared to be lost, as he was heading to the pass through the mountains, not to me. Your care for those who serve you is admirable, but misguided. I am sending reinforcements to help you maintain your purpose.
Lady D’Lia,”
“Aberforth…” I remembered. “He was the manservant you sent to Torvald, before the attack of the Red Hounds…”
“With letters to the Councilors of the Middle Kingdom King,” Abioye said through gritted teeth.
Oh no. Panic shot through me. Abioye saw my alarm and shook his head.
“Don’t worry, the messages weren’t so blatant as to suggest what our plan was—but my sister isn’t stupid. She knew that I was attempting to garner support for her forthcoming reign before the expedition; hopefully she’ll think Aberforth’s messages were a part of that—but she might be able to decipher my real meaning—a warning to Torvald, and a plea for aid against her.”
“Then we’re in trouble,” I said. “If Inyene guesses what you were trying to do, and what we’re up to…”
“She’ll kill us.” Abioye nodded, and I saw him swallow nervously. “She’ll destroy the entire caravan and start again.”
“And we won’t know until her ‘reinforcements’ arrive…” I added in low horror. The only good piece of news was that any troops that Inyene sent after our trail would have a long way to travel, and might have to deal with Nol Baggar and his Red Hounds along the way.
“Or, she might just be sending more guards to keep an eye on me,” Abioye said miserably. “You never can tell with Inyene.” He groaned once again, turning to the Sea of Mists. “We’d better get moving.”
The way forward was slow, and an air of barely suppressed panic seemed to permeate the expedition as we trudged into the murk. I had insisted on being up front, with Tiana and Danig, two of the most experienced and able-bodied amongst the fellow Daza slaves who seemed the least affected by their incarceration. Tiana in particular—who still wore two braids on one side of her hair to indicate those that she missed—said that she had crossed the Sea of Mists before.
“This is the largest entrance on the western side,” she said as we walked across the mostly hard and packed ground, littered with small rocks and pebbles. Each of us carried one of the tent poles in our hands, using them as prods to tap at the ground ahead and to the sides of us. I was dead center, with Tiana on my left and Danig on my right. The poles were too large and cumbersome for the task, in reality, making it an effort for every stab and thump at the ground—but Abioye wouldn’t let anyone backtrack to the stand of trees half a league away to cut better implements.
Once again, my thoughts darkened as I considered how Abioye was changing. It was the pressure from his sister and the expedition, of course—I could see that. But whereas before he had appeared foolish and decadent to me—Poison Berry indeed, as Ymmen had named him for his love of dark wines—and he had seemed so scared of his sister that he could barely say anything about her.
But now? I wondered at that. He had found his courage alright—and rage.
“It is not a true courage.” Ymmen broke into my thoughts, an upwelling of soot and dragon-sparks.
No? I thought back, pleased to sense the dragon as ever, in my mind.
“True bravery comes from hope, and determination—not fear, or shame, or guilt,” Ymmen said, and I was about to ask how Ymmen knew these things—only to realize that I knew it to be true, myself. It made sense now, and was clear to see how Abioye had come out from under his sister’s shadow not with the knowledge that he was a better man than her—but with a guilt for everything that he hadn’t done to stop her.
And now he’s over-acting— but my thoughts were interrupted by Tiana at my side.
“Mud!” she called out, and I heard the schloop of her tent pole as she freed it from the mire she had encountered.
“Hold on, we’ll scout its edges!” I called, hurrying over.
I could see Tiana standing still in the yellowing haze of the nearest lanterns; after us came the first wagon, which Abioye had ordered festooned with lights to create a pool of radiance in which we worked. The wagon creaked to a halt, and Homsgud’s voice called out, “What’s the hold up! Get a move on!”