I stowed my gear and clambered down from the wagon, joints aching, muscles sore from assuming the same bent posture for so long. No sooner were my feet on the ground than the Syldoon pushed the wagon into the deeper brush and trees on one side of the road. Working quickly and methodically, they had it covered so well that you would have had to pass within arm’s length or bump your shin on it before even noticing the wagon was there. When it came to matters of subterfuge, they really did have unparalleled skills.
The woods had closed in considerably, furry ferns bent low, gnarled armored oaks with their purple-black serrated leaves crowding together, hulking thick-trunked elms ringed in reddish-orange moss peculiar to this region, hoary larch, the towering and narrow spear pines jutting up so high they seemed intent on piercing the clouds. Even though we were still on a road, of sorts, it was narrow, and the foliage was dense and almost obtrusive, the tall trees blocking out most of the sun, the shrubs and bushes seeming to lock limbs in an effort to prevent anyone from even thinking of leaving the open path.
Braylar walked my slow but trusty and generally benign horse over to me as the others finished climbing back into their saddles. They had the horses that had been pulling the wagon drawn up behind them.
The captain handed me the reins. “Climb aboard, scribe. This boat won’t steer itself.”
I looked at my horse and hesitated. “I could stay with the wagon. To watch over it, that is. Alert you if anyone investigates. Make sure no one breaks into-”
“Your concern for my property, while commendable, in unwarranted. Two of my men remain behind. The saddle, Arki.”
I reluctantly hoisted myself up, threw my leg over, wincing as sensitive sores that hadn’t had any time to heal were immediately being chafed raw again. But really, it wasn’t the discomfort or the anxiety about the woods that gave me pause, it was leaving the translation now that I finally had a chance to dig into it.
All the Syldoon were on horseback, and the Memoridons were as well. Soffjian rode up to Braylar, posture as rigid and perfect as his own.
“Sister,” he said, leaving it at that.
“Brother,” she replied, but not content to stop there. “How are you feeling today? Less burdened, I hope?”
“Do you now?”
“Not personally, of course. Personally, I prefer you anguished. Tormented even. Which you obviously manage surprisingly well without any help from me. But I have a professional interest in you now.” Soffjian looked down at Bloodsounder, which Braylar pointedly ignored.
“Ever the professional.”
“Skeelana seemed to think there was quite a bit of residual… matter spattered inside you. Quite the cleanup job, from the sounds of it. So, do you feel sufficiently scoured now? Ready again to proceed recklessly into the wild for no good reason?”
Braylar ignored her and Soffjian turned to the trees and rolling hills, as if she could see Henlester somewhere out there in the hidden distance. “I’m curious, though. Are you more in a rush to be overcome by stolen memories again, or to risk the wrath of the Emperor, who did not expressly give you leave to go priest hunting in the wilderness?”
“The Emperor did not expressly deny it, either. He issued a command to return, and we will do so, never fear.”
Soffjian gave him a long look that seemed blank and composed but I suspected masked a good many broiling emotions. “The command is yours, for the moment, Captain. But I must go on record as-”
“Objection duly noted, duly considered, and duly rejected and forgotten. Anything else, Memoridon, or are you done meddling? For the moment, of course.”
She smiled in return and pointed toward the woods. “Lead on, oh puissant warrior. By all means.”
He didn’t respond and started riding into the trees, though whether or not on some path remained to be seen. Mulldoos, Hewspear, and Vendurro followed immediately after, and the rest of the Syldoon filed in behind. I hesitated, and so missed my chance to ride amongst the captain and his lieutenants, but I wasn’t looking forward to riding next to any of the other Syldoon, who tolerated me only slightly better than they did the Memoridons in the company. So that left me to ride next to the unwelcome women.
Soffjian ignored me, eyes still tracking her brother, again with the disquieting blank expression, and she moved ahead as Skeelana fell in alongside me. She waited until Soffjian had put a little distance between us, then leaned closer to me. “So. You’ve been sequestered away.”
There was no rise at the end to indicate it being an actual question, but it clearly hung there like one, or at least an invitation for me to elaborate. “I was feeling a bit off. That rabbit we had didn’t really agree with my stomach. Most wild game doesn’t. How are you doing? Better I hope?” I suddenly felt guilty that I’d been so absorbed with translating I hadn’t stopped to ask her earlier in the day.
Skeelana nodded. “It was violent enough-my insides rebelled worse than any time I can remember-but it passed almost immediately after. I was dizzy for a bit, when I spoke with you, but otherwise fine, and even that didn’t last all that long.”
“I should have stayed with you.” She glanced at me, one pierced eyebrow raised. Quickly, I added, “Outside, I mean. Last night. To be sure you were well. I shouldn’t have left you out there by yourself.”
“If you recall, I told you to.” She smiled. “And besides, while that fumbling gallantry of yours is endearing, I can fend for myself just fine. If you recall.”
I did recall, all too well. That Hornman blinded, swinging wildly after she stole his sight. While she might not have been able to cripple or kill like Soffjian, I had no doubt she could defend herself well enough, at least long enough to escape an assailant. Which of course there were none of in a dead and deserted plague village. “But if that spell hadn’t passed quickly, or had stolen your wits or laid you low? No one but me knew where you were.”
“Less fumbling, no less endearing.” She ducked a low-hanging branch and I did as well. “The other woman, the nomad in your party-Lloi, was it?”
I nodded.
“Was she ever overwhelmed? Or so sick she couldn’t recover?”
“I only saw her treat the captain one time, and she wasn’t then, but from what I heard she didn’t fare so well the first time. And I can’t speak to how long it took her to manage what she did. To not pass out or avoid choking on her vomit or whatever.”
“Gallant and charming.”
My cheeks flushed hot at the sarcasm, but she was still smiling and continued before I floundered over any more words. “But she wasn’t a trained Memoridon. While I’d never attempted anything quite like that, I know what I can do and can’t do, and what’s more, how to monitor and control myself while doing it. Still, thank you for the misplaced concern.”
We rode along in quiet, winding down a brambly trail into thicker foliage, the birch and poplars growing more crowded, the leaves rustling in the breeze above. “Are we in the Forest of Deadmoss now?”
She looked around, the ring in her nose glinting. “Looks mossy enough to me-I think so. I saw a low stone wall on the outer edge of the woods, near a meadow. I’m pretty sure that marked the beginning of the priestwood.”
Even though it was daylight, and there was no threat to be seen, who knew if Henlester had men patrolling the woods, or if Brunesmen were circling the area as well. Quiet seemed prudent. And still, my train of thought led me to a question I couldn’t put aside.
I tried for a whisper, but it still seemed obscenely loud in the forest. “Is Sunwrack near any part of the Godveil?”
That almost-but-not-quite-mocking grin. “Is anything? No one intentionally lives near it, do they?”
“But I imagine you’ve seen it?”
“Of course. It marks the eastern border of Urglovia.”