Tris smiled slyly. “Well, now, Laeth of Sianim,” the healer said, “my actions tonight might reflect the fact that your associate is the only person I’ve ever met who can beat me at Steal the Dragon.”
“Rialla?” Laeth’s voice was suddenly intent. “Where is she? Is she safe?”
Tris nodded. “She’s fine.” He hesitated, and honesty compelled him to add, “I hope. She should meet us at my cottage with your horses. Your lady is there as well.”
“Marri?” There was relief and surprise in the lord’s voice.
“She came to let Rialla know that they intended to draw and quarter you in the morning,” said Tris.
“Did she tell you that Lord Jarroh intends to prosecute her for conspiracy to commit murder? That she is supposed to be locked in her room? The stupid chit came to warn me of something that any idiot would have noticed and someone saw her—as you’ve probably already heard. Then she compounded the crime by insisting on seeing me in the tower.” Laeth shook his head in exasperation, but there was admiration in his tone as well.
Tris smiled and shook his head, saying solemnly, “That’s too bad then. You’ll have to take her with you to Sianim.”
Laeth looked at the healer for a minute before donning a return smile. “Isn’t that too bad? Poor girl.” Straightening, Laeth sent an inquiring look at Tris. “Shouldn’t we be going, in case someone institutes a door-to-door search of the village? I seem to recall that is the first procedure the hold follows after a felon has escaped.”
“They’ll wait until dawn; it’s too easy to miss someone hiding in the night,” said Tris, getting to his feet anyway. “I imagine she’s worrying herself into a frenzy, though. Shall we go and relieve her anxiety?”
When the two men reached Tris’s cottage, there was no sign of life, except the healer’s gelding dozing quietly in its pen.
Cautiously Tris opened the door and slipped in, followed by Laeth. The dim light of the waning moon caught Laeth’s bruised face.
A gasp was the only warning Laeth had before a shape launched itself over the counter and hit him with enough force to make him stagger back. Some part of him must have recognized the voice because he grabbed her and spun sideways, deflecting Tris’s staff with his shoulder.
“Ouch, plague it! I thought that wizards were supposed to be able to see in the dark. It’s only Marri.”
When Laeth was sure that no additional blows were forthcoming, he turned on the lady. “By the Lord of Death and all his minions, Marri! Don’t you know better than to throw yourself on someone without identifying yourself first? If the healer’s staff had fallen where it was aimed, it would have knocked the few brains that you have out on the floor; as it is, I think that he broke my shoulder blade.”
His anger would have been more believable if it hadn’t been for the fact that he held her close throughout the tirade, his hands gently smoothing the sobbing woman’s hair. His voice softened remarkably. “It’s all right, my heart. Don’t carry on so. I’m safe now and so are you.” He looked up to say something to the healer, but Tris had tactfully and silently withdrawn to the back room.
With the alarm ringing in her ears, Rialla took the horses to the high road, where the guards would be sure to see their tracks. Riding Stoutheart and leading the mare, she kept them to a brisk trot they were capable of maintaining for several hours.
When the side road to Tallonwood appeared she trotted on past it, waiting for a dirt road in the opposite direction that would show her tracks well. She wanted no suspicion to fall on the heads of the hapless villagers or their healer.
She also didn’t know what shape Laeth was in. It was possible that he was unable to travel on his own. By misleading the guards, she might be able to steal some time for Tris to get Laeth to the cottage.
Just as she turned off the road, she heard the thunder of a mounted party that was rapidly decreasing the distance she had won. Rialla tied the mare’s reins so there was no chance that they would cause the horse to fall and left her to follow without being led.
When Rialla leaned forward and asked for a faster pace, the dun gelding responded by stretching its neck flat and breaking into a hard gallop that the more heavily laden and lesser quality beasts of the guardsmen would not be able to match for long. Though she wasn’t as well bred as Stoutheart, without lead line or rider to hamper her, Rialla’s mare had no trouble following.
When a hunting horn was sounded behind her, Rialla knew that the guards had seen her. She made sure that she stayed just within their eyesight, wanting them to chase her, rather than wandering through the countryside, where they might chance upon Tris and Laeth.
As the guards’ mounts tired, Rialla slowed Stoutheart, giving her horses a well-deserved breather. She guided the gelding onto a narrow game trail through the woods. Relaxing slightly, she settled deeper into the saddle, resting her back and legs. She glanced behind her occasionally to make sure that the guards didn’t fall too far back.
The trail took a sharp turn through some bushes and over a narrow creek. Rialla looked back to see how far behind her pursuit was, just as her mount pushed through the brush and into a meadow. On the other side of the meadow was another party of guards.
With a series of startled shouts the fresh group broke into a hard gallop and Rialla turned the dun sharply to the left. She rose in her stirrups and leaned forward as her horse charged through the meadow and crashed headlong into the bushes on the other side, followed by the loyal little mare.
She decided that she’d given Tris enough time and concentrated on losing her followers—if she could. The new party was mounted on fresh horses and hers had already had quite a run. Stoutheart’s shoulders were wet with sweat, but both he and the mare were still moving easily.
She could hear the men cursing as they fought through the brush. They were losing most of the advantage of following where her horses had already broken the branches, because there were too many of them; they tried to follow her as a pack instead of one at a time.
Most of the second party were falling behind, but there were a few who were more determined. At least one of them was mounted as well as Rialla—probably a nobleman who had decided to relieve his boredom by chasing criminals.
Stoutheart stumbled to his knees in the rough footing, but recovered quickly. Rialla couldn’t see any sign of lameness, so she stayed on him. Time enough to switch mounts when the gelding showed signs of weariness.
They broke through the last of the undergrowth to find themselves on a well-traveled road. Rialla pulled her mount to a trot and looked back to see if there was anyone still behind them.
The nobleman was still in pursuit, but she didn’t see anyone else. Turning the gelding in a circle, she aimed him at the stone wall that ran the length of the road, and hoped that there was enough light from the sliver of moon that the horse could see to jump.
Rialla had carefully chosen the horses that she and Laeth took from Sianim. They were grain-fed and in fighting shape, lean and tough as only rigorous daily riding could make them. Rialla blessed that toughness as the gelding cleared the wall with a snort and the mare followed closely on his heels.
She looked back and swore silently. Despite their mad run across the salted field and the leap over the fence on the opposite side, the noble was still gaining ground.
She turned back into the forest, where skill played a greater role and minimized the advantage his fresher horse had. In the rough going, he quit gaining on her, but he didn’t fall back either.
Rialla wasn’t familiar with the area, and it seemed that the other rider was. Several times he took advantage of shorter, easier routes through the terrain that was rapidly becoming rougher as they raced away from the cultivated areas. The thought that he might be herding her occurred to Rialla just as the gully they were running down deepened and narrowed.