When she woke, the sun was high, men quietly hustled around the camp, and Brice sat up, a pile of blankets heaped on his shoulders. Someone notified the general she was awake and he came at a run.
“Jam?” she asked, the single word foremost on her mind.
“Not a single sighting of him. Maybe we got here before he did.”
Despite her mind still half asleep, she disagreed. That was not like Jam. He’ll walk all night if it meant he might repay Hannah for some of the perceived slights his mind blamed on her. “Update me.”
He chuckled. “A true leader has a single-minded purpose, and that describes you perfectly. We entered the monastery in force after you came out. I kept fifty troops on the path below to capture any who escaped, but the men inside were concentrated in one area, and we took it with only a few minor casualties. I can’t say the same for the other side.”
“Elenore?”
“We’re interrogating the survivors now. Both she and her husband have spent considerable time here over the years, directing the searches to locate you. They also had royal visitors from Wren, and we’re compiling a list for you. A traitor’s list, you might call it.”
Hannah allowed her mind to relax. The list was good news. Anyone who had visited Eagle’s Nest would have to explain their reasons fully if they didn’t wish to be branded a traitor. She couldn’t think of a single reason she’d accept—but she’d give them a chance in an open hearing.
“What do we do next?”
His eyes narrowed, and he grew serious. “This was a trap set for you. There’s no reason to believe it’s the only one.”
She imagined the long march down the pass to Wren and a hundred things that might happen. As Brice continually said, Elenore had six years to plan for this. She wouldn’t depend on setting a single ambush and hope it succeeded.
Hannah said, “Your ideas?”
He settled back and relaxed. “I was afraid you’d want to rush on and fight whatever is waiting for us. I can’t help but think whatever is ahead is worse. My army may get through, or part of it, but useless slaughter is not something I condone.”
“What do you think is ahead?”
“We’ve confirmed Princess Elenore has more mages working for her. She’s promised lifetime positions of leisure and power to them. My guess is that on the long trail to Wren, which will take five or six days of marching, there are places where a mage would lay a trap.”
Thinking that both her and Brice held some mage powers and might resist an attack, she asked, “Like what?”
“I’d find a snowpack at the head of a small valley and use lightning to melt it. The flash flood would sweep down the valley, and across the trail, we travel. The same with boulders waiting to fall and crush us, or a hundred trees that fall at one time, just as we walk past.”
He was right. The ground could open below their feet, a portion of the road might fall over a cliff, or worse. Even though mages dealt with physical forces, her mind filled with images of a thousand poisonous snakes undulating from the sides of the trail and biting every leg they encountered.
The snakes were a symbol, not a reality. She hated snakes, but a good mage who wished to be rewarded with gold would think long and hard to impress the next Queen of Wren with the traps he would devise. Neither she nor Brice had the expertise to anticipate them, let alone defeat them.
“I see your point, General. Your suggestion?”
The slight nod of approval came as he spoke, “We found a prisoner inside the monastery. He is weak, seemingly a patriot, and more than willing to talk. He hates Elenore.”
“Who is he?”
“A gold prospector. He’s heard the stories of Eagle’s Nest and was captured while searching for gold.”
Hannah said, “There’s more?”
“He avoided capture because he didn’t use the trail.”
It took a few seconds for the impact of the simple statement to sink in. If true, it might circumvent the traps and ambushes waiting for them. “There’s another way?”
“He claims there is, but nobody knows of it because it is longer and much harder to travel.”
“Longer isn’t a problem.”
“Only he knows the route and is hinting at a reward.”
Hannah laughed. “What else would you expect? He’s a prospector, after all.”
“When will you be prepared to leave?” The general asked, looking ready to begin traveling instantly.
“As soon as I speak with this man and confirm his story. It might also be a trap.”
“Do you think he’s lying?” The general asked. He sounded almost offended that she might question his recommendation.
Standing, she faced him as she spoke, “What better way to lure me into a trap than to have a prospector conveniently offer another route? One far more dangerous than the original?”
“He seemed sincere.”
“What else would you expect? I’m not saying his offer isn’t true and well-intended, but I wish to speak to him in private before we risk everything on the word of someone we don’t know.”
The general called to the nearest soldier and ordered the prospector brought to Hannah. As she ate a strip of dried meat, a commotion caught her attention. Two soldiers half-carried a man who twisted and fought. He cursed, spat, dug in his heels, and finally managed to yank one arm free. A third soldier stepped in to help.
They deposited the dirty, bedraggled, half-starving man on the ground at her feet. His leather coat was ripped from shoulder to waist, and more rips and tears told of the hard times and years he’d worn it.
Hannah said, “Your name?”
“Ben.”
She helped him stand, then sat him on a log when his knees threatened to buckle. His left eye was swollen shut, nearly black, and his lower lip was split. Smoke and dirt stained his skin. She waved her arm, and the others backed off a few steps. “They hurt you? The others?”
He nodded, shifting his eyes from making direct contact.
Hannah sat beside him. “You were a prospector when you found another path through the mountains?”
He nodded again, somewhat more eagerly. “I’ll tell you.”
She glanced at his boots. They were boots worn by men in a city. His hands were filthy but unscarred. A prospector should have hands with signs of past cuts and worse. She said, “I used to prospect with my father. We used black marbles to help identify the flakes, the gold shows up well against black.”
“Me too. Sometimes.”
“If that didn’t work, we ran trace lines to make sure there wasn’t any quartz nearby. You know what that means, right?”
He nodded in quick agreement.
“Quartz always means you’re prospecting in the wrong place,” she said. At his nod, she continued in a silky voice, “Like you’re in the wrong place right now. What did Princess Elenore promise?”
“Who?”
Hannah stood and addressed him while standing as if she was a princess and he was nothing. She motioned for two of the soldiers to come closer, and to the general. “I don’t know how black marbles would help him find gold, trace lines are for mules pulling wagons, and if you want to find gold, you always follow the quartz, not run away from it. His hands are as smooth as mine. This man is no more a prospector than me.”
The general was embarrassed to have fallen for his trick. He grabbed the prospector by his coat-front, pulled him close and said, “They must have paid you well for you to take a beating and still work for them.”
Hannah said, “A lifetime of gold?”
The prospector was weeping openly.
The general turned to Hannah. “What should we do with him?”
“Hang him.”
The answer was quick, decisive, and unexpected. The soldiers and general reacted, but the prospector leaped to his feet as if healthy like them. “You can’t do that.”