Rase checked just long enough to gasp out, “That one’s dealt with. No more within groundsense range, so far. Dag sent us to find Sumac and Arkady.” He spurred on.
That pair had fallen behind more than once, lately, and Fawn hadn’t given them a thought-at least, not about their safety. Between them, Sumac and Arkady were clearly proof against any predator these hills harbored-wolf, bear, catamount, or rattlesnake. A gang of mud-men was a different proposition.
All the other farmers in the company came up to cluster in the road, goggle, and demand repeated explanations. Pressed, Fawn finally said, “Look, I don’t think I can explain mud-men to you.” Not and be believed.
“Just come look at the evil thing, why don’t you? ”
She turned and led them, wagons and all, up the road to the site of the gory slaughter. Dag and Whit had dismounted. Dag released Copperhead’s reins and prodded the body with his foot; Whit looked as if he was working up the nerve to do the same. “Blight it,” Dag was saying, “this area is supposed to be well patrolled!” He glanced up. “Fawn, I told you to keep back!”
“No, Dag,” she said firmly. “These folks have to see, just like your young patrollers.”
“Oh.” He scrubbed his hand-was it shaking?-over his face.
“Yeah.”
Fawn slid from her mare, took the reluctant Vio by the hand, and dragged her forward; the mob trailed. “Look at it, see? Look at its jaw, practically a muzzle, and those furry ears, and all that coarse hair-it likely started out as a bear, wouldn’t you say, Dag? ” She tried not to look at its bloodied throat, torn out in one slash of Dag’s reaching war knife, with all the power of his arm and Copperhead’s stride behind it.
“Black bear, oh yes,” Dag agreed absently.
“He’s… it’s naked,” said Calla hesitantly.
“Naked is good,” said Dag. “Means it hasn’t killed folks and stolen their clothes yet.”
Fawn realized from their openmouthed staring that this was the first mud-man, alive or dead, that most of the young patrollers had ever seen, too. Dag pointed out a few more distinguishing features, still with the toe of his boot, then glanced up at his whole mixed audience. “This one is so crude and bearlike because it’s the work of a malice in its first molt. The malice might even still be sessile, which would be good news for us. As a malice goes through molts and gets stronger and smarter, its making gets better, till you can’t hardly tell a mud-man from a real human by eye. Lakewalker groundsense can tell at once, though. Their grounds are… their grounds are just not right.”
All the young men jostled forward for a closer look, with the enthusiastic Hawthorn pushing through to the front; Fawn let Vio shrink back. Vio was trembling and teary from seeing, and smelling, the welter of blood, and her little girl, who came out from the wagon and grabbed her skirts, burst into tears in sheer contagion. The toddler tied in the wagon just howled on general principles. Grouse, clutching his spear and looking frantically fearful, his world suddenly full of new dangers but with no clear target to attack, turned on his wife and snarled, “Shut them up!”
It seemed mean, but Fawn had to admit Vio did get a better hold on herself, controlling her snivels and shuffling off to manage her children.
A respite of sorts. Vio was beginning to learn something, Fawn thought, if only that the world was not what she’d imagined. Bo hadn’t pushed forward, and he didn’t look much surprised, but his seamed face screwed up in a dubious scowl. His glance of dismay was not at his Lakewalker companions, though, but at the surrounding ridges.
Dag, too, backed out of the crowd and stared up and down the road, gold eyes slitted. Reaching with his groundsense? A little relief lightened his features, and he muttered, “Ah, good, there’s Arkady.” Truly, in a couple of minutes the strays rode up.
Sumac jumped down and strode to him. “Sorry we fell behind, there. We were just talking.”
From their un-disheveled looks, Fawn thought this was likely true.
Though they both had the weights of character to appear unruffled even when half undone.
Arkady, eyes wide, dismounted and approached the corpse. His hand sought his belly, and his face worked as he swallowed. “That’s… the most grotesque making I’ve ever seen.”
“Yep,” said Dag. “Try to imagine the power of the groundwork that can turn a bear into… well, this, inside of two weeks.”
Intrigue fought the nausea in Arkady’s face. “Can I dissect it? ”
“Now? Are you mad? ”
“No, of course not now! Later.”
“We’ll see,” said Dag.
“With any luck, you can have your pick of the litter,” said Sumac.
“I’ll bring you all the mud-men your heart desires.”
“I’m not sure my heart desires any,” Arkady admitted. “But it’s… absent gods, but that thing’s so wrong.”
“Do you eat them? ” asked Ash, hunkering down in fascination.
This won gagging noises from all the patrollers present, except Dag, who said only, “No. The flesh is tainted.”
“Lakewalkers do skin them sometimes,” said Fawn, remembering a certain bride gift.
“Not to use the leather,” said Dag. “Just… in special cases.”
When the pain was too great, and mere victory wasn’t revenge enough, Fawn suspected.
Dag looked at Sumac, who looked back. Sizing each other up?
Sumac cut across the moment, saying simply, “Well, what next, patrol leader? ”
Fawn thought she could see the weight of responsibility descend like a hundred-pound sack of grain on Dag’s shoulders. He sighed. “Scout, I reckon. North, wouldn’t you say? ”
Sumac’s lips pursed. “That thing could have been running for home. But we haven’t felt any blight sign, south of here. We don’t have enough patrollers to split up and run a proper pattern.”
“We haven’t seen any traffic from the north all day,” said Dag.
“Nor from the south,” Sumac pointed out, “but I agree, north seems the best bet. Should we send a courier for help? Closest camp to here would be Laurel Gap, I reckon.” She turned her head, and called, “Anyone else here ever been to Laurel Gap Camp? ”
The other patrollers returned negative mumbles. Sumac muttered, “Blight. I don’t want it to be me. But it might have to.”
“Not yet, leastways,” said Dag. “Right now we’re in the middle of nowhere, knowing nothing, which doesn’t make much to report.”
Sumac’s eyes glinted. “Indeed.”
“Open your ground to me.”
Her brows went up; a faint flush tinged her high-boned copper cheeks. But she evidently complied.
Dag looked her up and down, nodded without expression. “Pick a partner and ride up the road a piece. No more than five miles. See if you find any blight sign. I’ll try to organize”-Dag’s eye swept the company-“these,” he sighed.
“Right.” Sumac swung aboard her horse, looked over not the patrollers but their mounts, evidently judged Barr’s the swiftest, and said, “Barr, follow me!”
Arkady’s hand lifted as she wheeled away, but fell back unseen.
The two scouts loped off up the road, mud spinning from their horses’ hooves.
Fawn puzzled over that last exchange between uncle and niece. Oh.
Of course. Dag had been checking to be sure Sumac hadn’t conceived, before sending her out. It wasn’t just his general protectiveness; pregnant women, as Fawn had painful reason to know, were preferred prey to a malice on the verge of a molt. The women’s natural making made them beacons, walking bait. Their new ground shields might presently be protecting Fawn and Berry-she touched the walnut at her throat-but what of Vio or Calla? The Lakewalkers would know even if the women didn’t, yet, she reassured herself. They’d take precautions. Children were a malice’s next most favored morsels-she glanced uneasily at the Basswoods’ wagon, where the crying had died down.
“All right,” said Dag, raising his voice to carry, “everyone move up to that next little ford.” He pointed toward a shallow creek crossing the road a hundred paces farther along. “We better grab the chance to water the animals. We have to make ready to run sudden.”