The female had joined up with others, one of which had to be Matiga, for he’d smelled her all over the farm. The whole lot were moving south. In the back of his mind he knew that was significant, but not until he entered a small kidney-shaped vale did he know why. He recognized this vale from the memories he’d obtained by eating Larther, and the memory made Hunger tremble with delight.
He was in the finger of hills that ended at Boar’s Point. And not far from that point, in a small, narrow valley hidden in the finger, lay the Order’s refuge. It was a cave located at the foot of a large, steep hillside. He could see it in his mind’s eye: less than a mile away, through this small vale, up over the saddle between the two hills, and then down into the next valley.
That is where the female and Matiga were going. There the Order would have chambers and rooms, barrels of beans and grainy honey, water from the mountain, and an immense stone to cover the mouth of the cave. It had a place for horses. The Order could live there for weeks on end. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? Of course this is where they’d go.
He would find them there. He would find all of them there.
Up ahead he heard sounds. Voices. The female and her group were only a few hundred yards away.
Hunger thanked the Creators-his opportunity to free his family had come.
There was a trail that wound through the vale, an animal trail that broke off of the one that ran along by the creek. It would take him to the refuge, but he knew another way. A faster way along the cliff. He would hasten to the refuge. And when they arrived, he would be waiting for them.
The refuge had two ways in and out. The mouth, at the base of the hill, and a bolt-hole dozens of yards above on the slope. The Order covered both entrances with large stones. Doing so kept it tight and hidden from man and beast.
Hunger approached the upper exit from above, carrying an enormous log. This he carefully placed on top of the stone already covering the bolt-hole. It would take two or three of them, multiplied, to push that off.
Then he quietly descended the slope. When he reached the base, he caught the faint scent of wood smoke.
The best place to catch one of the Order was in the cave, all bottled up like flies. He stood for a long time looking for the watch they’d surely posted. But he saw nobody on watch.
Hunger approached, picking his way around the brush and trees, avoiding the spots where Zu Hogan had pointed out the cleverly concealed trip lines, and soon stood before the mouth of the cave. A man was burning a small fire inside, Hunger could smell it.
Something moved in the brush behind him. He turned, expecting the watch, but instead saw a small herd of deer moving through the trees off to the right.
Hunger looked about once more, then silently slipped into the cave.
The first chamber was where they kept livestock. It was wide, large enough to hold a dozen horses, but there were no horses, no goats, nothing but a large pile of hay by the stalls. He looked up the corridor that led to the second and third chambers. The far chamber was dark, but the flickering orange light of a fire spilled out of the door to the second chamber and played on the rock wall of the corridor.
Hunger went back to the entrance, took hold of the large squarish covering stone, and pushed it back into place, closing off any escape.
“Who’s there?” A voice from the second chamber.
Hunger walked through the first chamber and to the entrance of the second.
Ke, Zu Hogan’s son, stood above a small fire over which he roasted three rabbits. He held a knife in one hand, staff in the other. Hunger, as Larther, had been clouted by that staff more than once in weapon’s practice. Ke was powerful and fast. Deadly.
“Who are you?”
Hunger could not answer. He simply stepped into the small light.
Surprise flashed across Ke’s features, but he just as quickly recovered and with blinding speed threw his knife.
It buried itself in Hunger’s eye. He did not expect the pain that shot through him. He thought he was beyond pain. Yet this did not debilitate him. It was strong, but dull, and he shrugged it off.
Ke took advantage of his hesitation and darted past him toward the mouth of the cave.
Ke was fast, but not as fast as River. Hunger ran after him. He caught him at the entrance by the shoulder and whipped him around.
Hunger expected Ke to try to free himself, but Ke grabbed Hunger by the neck and crotch instead. He lifted Hunger and cast him against the wall of the cave.
Ke was always the one to try something surprising. And it had always worked. But not this time.
Ke pushed the stone covering the entrance.
Hunger lunged forward and latched on to Ke with both hands. Then he swept Ke’s feet out from under him, dropping Ke like a stone.
Hunger landed atop Ke and knocked out his breath.
There is no escape, thought Hunger. Not for you, brother. Not for me.
Ke struggled mightily, but Hunger bound him as he had his sister, then he tied him up with a rope. He laid Ke in the third chamber where they kept the beans and water, then went back to the mouth of the cave and shoved the rock aside to open it for the others.
He looked about, considering the best place to hide. Then he looked up. Hunger climbed up the wall to the high, sloped ceiling above the mouth of the cave, up into the inky dark. And there he clung, waiting like a spider for the others to enter his trap.
Talen followed the Creek Widow to the bottom of a narrow valley between two steep and stony hills. Dawn had not yet broken, but the sky had lightened, and he could see the valley well enough. He’d been up now for twenty-four hours and was exhausted. The woods broke on a clearing that began by the brook and ran halfway up one of the hills.
“Here it is,” she said.
“Here?” asked Talen. Such a clearing couldn’t provide much protection. He thought she’d said it was a cave. But he could see none. “What do we do, hide under the bushes?”
“Yes, Talen,” she said. “That’s what the great minds of our Order came up with. Hide under the bushes.” She shook her head and led him through the waist-high brush to the steep and stony base of the hill.
Talen thought that maybe they’d dug some cellar in the valley floor, then the Creek Widow turned a corner around a tall seam of stone running dozens of yards up the hill and disappeared.
“Goh,” he said. He arrived at the place where she vanished and found a jagged cleft in the seam of stone. Before him stood the mouth to a cave, a wan light glowing inside.
“Bring the Tailor in here,” said the Creek Widow from inside.
The mouth was barely wide enough for the horse, but it was not tall enough to allow a mounted man to pass through. Sugar untied Legs and helped him down. Then the three of them entered.
This first chamber stretched perhaps two dozen feet wide. He looked up into the blackness but could not see the ceiling. A light came from a chamber down a short corridor.
“Can you see this in full daylight?” he asked.
“Not unless you’re right upon it,” she said. She pointed at a large stone behind him. “And that’s only when the stone is removed. Replace the stone and this cave doesn’t exist.”
Something popped. It sounded like green wood in a fire. “Hello?” he said, hoping to hear Ke’s voice. But there was no reply.
“You’ll find this a comfortable place,” said the Creek Widow. “There’s no vermin that gets in here. No rats. And there’s a spot where the water drips clear and cold.”
Around the corner from the mouth lay some horse stalls and a crib of hay. The Creek Widow held an armful of hay and put it at the head of one stall. “Bring him over here. I’ll rub him down. You three go see who’s here. And get a place to rest while you can.”