In my mind, I had said our noses, but that was not true. It was true for nearly all people in Dire, but not for us. Kendra and I had long thin noses and darker skin, with brown eyes and thick brown hair. Just like the men we’d killed.
The two of us were orphans with unknown pasts. A lump formed in my throat that I couldn’t swallow away. His head lay where it faced the flames of the fire. The texture of his hair was the same as mine. My heart pounded. I turned to Kendra, but Elizabeth, who was still tending to Tater, glanced up as if she knew my thoughts—or was listening. For once, I decided to keep my ideas to myself.
When I pulled the blanket away from him, it got stuck on the shaft of the arrow that had penetrated his chest. It finally came free with a tug. The freed blanket went around his head, tying it in a knot firmly so he couldn’t watch me with those damning eyes that were so much like mine.
Yes, he was dead, and probably by my arrow, but things were far easier with his head concealed so the blanket could shut off his silent accusations and my wild thoughts. I pulled my clothing from his lifeless body and tossed it aside. It had been fouled by him, and I didn’t wish to put it on until it was washed, and perhaps not even then. “Where are the packhorses?”
Kendra said, “Other end of the clearing, over there” She pointed. “But they put the contents of the packs under that tree if that’s what you want.” She pointed again, to the shade of a nearby tree.
I went to the tree and carried back the bag that contained my things. All had been rummaged through, the neatly folded shirts twisted and stuffed carelessly back inside, but they were there along with trousers. Why only one change of my clothing was taken puzzled me, until thinking that they probably divided up what we had. The lucky one with the blanket around his head got my bag.
I changed clothing despite the cold and immediately felt better. My sword was missing, as was the case for the crossbows, my good knife, and anything else of meager value. There were no coins.
When I returned to Kendra’s side, she was finished searching the last of them. A small pile of worthless items lay at her side. Her expression was drawn, so I asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Seven men here, all dressed in similar clothing, all ragged and falling apart from filth. But do you know what I didn’t find on any of the seven?”
“No,” my tone telling her of my sudden interest in the conversation.
“No gold, silver . . . or copper. Not a single coin among them. No rings on fingers, no necklaces, trinkets, or anything else that could be sold or traded for a biscuit. Not even an empty coin purse to hold a coin.”
That also struck me as strange. One of the wounded we’d tied up chose that moment to moan and call out for help. My sister got a reassuring pat on her shoulder before she went to the other side of the fire to check on the three survivors and the one that cried for help. After a quick examination, I decided the one moaning wouldn’t last until morning. He’d already bled too much from the arrow in his chest, his skin was too pale, and his breathing shallow and uneven. The arrow that had penetrated his chest was still there. Removing it would probably kill him instantly as the blood would flow freely from the wound.
The other two men were in slightly better shape. One had broken the shaft of an arrow that had struck high on his thigh, and only the stub remained, the iron point still deep inside. Again, I was struck by the similarities in our appearances. Even in the half-light, once discerned, they were too obvious to ignore. I needed to give the two-finger signal to Kendra and find a place to speak with her.
He was bound with his hands behind his back and wide awake. I said gently, “How are you doing?”
He frowned as if he didn’t understand what I’d said. He acted like my talking offended him and he scowled. I moved on to tend to the last man, one with two arrows in him, but neither fatal wounds if tended to properly. The arrow in his shoulder wept a thin ooze of blood, and the one in his arm was hardly more than a scratch. It was high on his arm, nearly to his shoulder. I gently removed it and used a rag to put pressure on the wound until it stopped bleeding. The near-miss must have been one of Kendra’s arrows because none of mine ever missed by that margin. At least that was the story I’d tell Kendra later and smiled at the thought because she was probably thinking the same.
The wounded man smiled back at me, a surprise. I said kindly, “Do you need anything?”
“Kondor,” he said. The word meant nothing to me. “What is Kondor?”
He nodded vigorously. I didn’t understand what he meant or why his eager response when I repeated the word. He gave the impression that the word was important. Perhaps it was his name. I pointed at him. “Kondor?”
He shook his head, his eyes downcast at his failure to communicate. Elizabeth had come quietly to my side. She said, “Kondor is not his name. It’s a place, a kingdom, I think.”
That made more sense. I pointed into the darkness to a distance beyond Mercia, at least that was my intent. “Kondor?”
He nodded again. The smile had returned.
Elizabeth said, “Why are there troops from Kondor here? Especially hiding in the mountains on a lonely trail hardly nobody travels?”
Kendra nodded her agreement. “Troops? Maybe. And why are they dressed like that in the cold of a mountain pass? They are better dressed for the brown-lands if you ask me. And why are they almost starving? They are so skinny they must be weak from hunger. No wonder we were able to defeat them.”
Elizabeth had added more information that had gone unnoticed. “All the nearby firewood is gone, the dead branches that are easy to gather. There is no food, and all of ours was eaten already. They’ve been here a long time, maybe months. Their clothing is a disgrace, and there isn’t a single coin between them.”
Kendra continued, “I noticed that too. Not a ring on a finger or ear, and have you looked at their feet and hands?”
I looked. The bottoms of their feet were filthy and as hard as old leather from going barefoot. Their hands were the same. These were men who worked for a living and didn’t normally wear shoes. They didn’t bear the whip-marks common to slaves, yet they seemed to lead the same sort of lives. Even the lowest wear shoes except in warm climates. My thoughts went to the brown-lands.
My feelings towards them had subtly altered as we spoke. I have always believed there are people born evil, others good. There is also those who are born good, who are turned evil by circumstances such as wars or famines. External forces beyond control such as near starvation tend to lower morals and perceptions. Food that would have been discarded in better times will be eaten eagerly in hard. Behavior that would have normally been immoral becomes acceptable. I saw the men at my feet, those from Kondor in that light without sufficient reason to make that determination. Therefore, it was more of wishful thinking until proven.
In contrast, they were also men who had intended to kill us. However, all that was normal when outlaws, highwaymen, and thieves made their existence by doing such things. What I saw, in addition, were the thin noses, dark eyes, and skin. Any of them could be mistaken for my brother.
I glanced at Elizabeth and half-expected her to be comparing us to them. My eyes drifted to Kendra and at the man she searched. She looked up. “Where are our crossbows and other things?”
“I don’t know.”
“That worries me.”
She was right. Our other belongings had been strewn around the campsite, some clothing was worn by one man, but things were missing, like my crossbows and sword. Using simple logic, if they were not here, they were elsewhere. If they were elsewhere, somebody took them there.