Soon the work of getting down the hill had him sweating and breathing faster. Focusing his mind on getting from tree to tree, he turned the work into a game. With the thorn man's magic spear held at his side, J'role raced down to the next tree with Releana to prepare to catch Bevarden. Soon they were nearly slamming into the trees in their efforts.
Releana laughed out loud; J'role, for fear of- releasing the creature, did not, but smiled broadly. Once more his despairing thoughts left him, shunted out by physical concerns, and he remembered that back in his village he used run to feel better.
Motion was his ever-present friend.
After half an hour the slope of the valley became gentle. Slowing their pace, both J'role and Releana began to limp, the effects of their wounds taking a toll after their spirited exertions.
From beyond the trees they heard the continuous running of the river. They walked on for another twenty minutes, the water getting louder, becoming something just under a roar.
Then J'role heard voices in the distance. He raised his hand for the group to stop. Releana did so, taking Bevarden's hand to keep him calm in the face of whatever would happen next.
20
His mother cried softly. Charneale closed his eyes and said, "I've suspected for some time that something had entered the kaer. You are to be respected, Bevarden Storyteller, for your attempts to protect the woman you love. But that is not who she is anymore. Or at least, that is what I suspect. We will take her and examine her."
The woman holding J'role thought he was being very brave in the face of all the noise and screaming- and the dagger. It had look as if the mother had actually intended to actually kill her own son. J'role was stiff and lifeless and very well-behaved.
All the while his impulses were telling him to squirm his way out of the woman's arm and somehow protest his mother's innocence. It was all his fault, that much he knew.
But he was so frightened. He really did not want to die.
J'role, spear in hand, moved forward silently toward the voices. The trees at the base of the river valley provided excellent cover, but he let the magic seep through his muscles and bone anyway. Within seconds the feeling of closeness he had shared with Releana dissolved, and he wondered for a moment why he had indulged in it. The strength that came from the magic, the knowledge that he would be safe as long he looked after only himself, far outweighed any benefit he gained from being with her. Though he might travel with her as it suited his need, he saw no reason to let her matter to him beyond that.
He moved forward, his senses once again reaching out into the world. His feet intuitively stepped over twigs and around rocks and he made not a sound. Working his way through the bushes, J'role noiselessly pushed them out of the way.
After traveling a bit he came to a wide brown road. One way led down to the river, for he could clearly see the Serpent framed by the trees, the sunlight shimmering off the swift-running water. The other way led through the trees, and J'role assumed the road worked its way up to the valley's top in an easier fashion than the route he had taken to get down.
Up the road, away from the water, he saw a group of six people walking toward him. The first three wore no more than rags. Around their necks were collars of leather, and their arms were held behind their backs; most likely tied to their collars. They bent heads low, and their feet barely shuffled over the ground as they walked.
Behind them …
Behind them walked Mordom, Phlaren, and Slinsk. Phlaren looked serious as she held the leashes of the three bound prisoners. Mordom's spirits seemed high.
"No, it doesn't matter where they're going," Mordom said, his eyes white and blind, his hand raised high so he could walk safely. "They were heading south. They'll have to get across the Serpent, and so will we."
"How much do you think we'll get for them?" asked Slinsk.
"At least passage across. Maybe some food."
"That would be good," said Phlaren.
They were only a few feet away now, and J'role tucked himself under a bush and stayed out of sight as they passed.
Slinsk asked, "What about Garlthik?"
Mordom answered, "What about him?"
“I want another stab at him"
"He's clever, that ork. Cleverer than I would have guessed. I don't think he's worth my trouble. And I suggest you think the same thing. He's gone now."
Phlaren said, "He keeps turning up."
"No more," Mordom said with certainty. "He's halfway out of Barsaive by now. He didn't speak with the elf queen. Has no idea which way the brat went.''
Their voices became softer and softer as they moved on. Slinsk said, "All right. I just want that ring back. Wearing that ring is even better than thinking about shredding Garlthik's flesh with my blade."
“I still think that elf was lying …” began Phlaren.
''The elf queen would not lie to me. If she said the boy stole it back, then he stole it back."
Slinsk and Phlaren exchanged looks behind the magician's back. Then Slinsk asked,
"What makes you so certain?”
Mordom shrugged. “I have my reasons.”
"You have some secret to tell her in that private meeting you had with her," said Slinsk.
J'role could not hear Mordom's reply.
When they had gone too far to hear, he crept back to the others. When Releana asked what he had seen, J'role raised his hand and pointed to the center of his palm. "Oh," she said.
J'role pointed to himself, then indicated the direction in which Mordom and the others had gone. Then he pointed to them and pointed to himself. Without waiting another moment, he started back for the road, hearing Releana gasp, "What?"
When he reached the roads J'role moved cautiously, but fast enough that he would catch up with Mordom. Glancing over his shoulder he saw Releana and his father following.
Releana kept her pace slow, and J'role knew she had figured out what he'd meant-he would follow Mordom, and they would follow him.
Coming to a bend in the road he slowed down, raising his hand for the others to stop.
When he had made the turn and saw Mordom and the others still far ahead, he signaled his companions to continue. Then he moved along the roadside, ducking in and out of bushes.
The road ahead dipped down, and Mordom's group vanished from sight as they reached the Serpent's edge. J'role ran quickly. When he reached the top of the dip he saw that the road led down to a wooden dock painted bright green, purple, and red. He wondered if the colors referred to the ships, and if a huge green, purple, and red ship owned the dock.
Mordom's group reached the dock, where many other people waited. Most of them were human except for a few orks. Some had carts loaded with goods, others stood beside large boxes, which J'role assumed had been delivered by carts that had already come and gone.
J'role had enough time to take in this impression of the scene when behind him he heard footsteps. He turned to find Releana and his father, whom he motioned into the shelter of the trees and bushes to the right of the road. They made Bevarden sit down against a tree a few yards back. The man was pale and almost skeletal, his breathing shallow, his body shaking as if very, very cold. It occurred to J'role that his father was dying. Dying quickly. It wasn't just the wounds and the exertion of running and the lack of food. It was the drinking, and the lack of it. It was his life.
J'role started to feel very bad, and discovered he didn't want to. The thief magic offered him a choice. He took it. He closed off all his feeling for his father. He turned and headed back toward the slope to see what Mordom was up to. Releana followed.
Even hidden behind some bushes they had a clear view of the dock. J'role noticed that the other travelers and merchants had moved away from Mordom and his companions and the three prisoners on Phlaren’s leashes.