The Nomad

3

The trail was not difficult to follow. Nine riders, mounted on overburdened kanks, could not move without marking their passage. They seemed to be in no hurry. And why not? thought Sorak. They think I’m dead. They hadn’t even paused to check his body. He had been down on the ground, unmoving, with an arrow in his back, and they had Ryana to occupy all their attention. A chill went through Sorak as he considered what they might have done to her.

She would never have gone quietly, and under normal circumstances, the marauders would have had a fight on their hands that would have proved much more than they had bargained for. But Ryana had been utterly exhausted from their long trek across the i plain. If she had fallen asleep, they might have taken her easily.

Sorak tried not to think about what they might do to her. She was no ordinary woman. She was not only very beautiful, she was also a villichi priestess. However, it was possible her captors might not have realized that. Ryana did not look like most villichi. Her coloring was different, and though she was tall for a woman, she lacked the exaggerated length of neck and limb that characterized villichi females. Her proportions were closer to the human norm. If Ryana was smart-and she was-she would not reveal herself, but would bide her time while she regained her strength so that she could pick her opportunity. But if they had harmed so much as one hair on her head ...

For the most part, Sorak and Valsavis rode in silence, save for the occasional exchange regarding signs that the marauders left behind. Sorak’s respect for the muscular old warrior was growing rapidly. The mercenary was a superb tracker. Nothing missed his alert gaze. At an age when most warriors would have long since retired, with a woman to take care of them in their declining years, Valsavis was still at the peak of his powers. Sorak wondered what sort of life the man had led, where he had come from, and where he was bound. The tribe wondered about him, too, and in a way that made them feel profoundly uneasy.

“I do not trust this man, Sorak,” said the Guardian. “Be careful,”

“Can you not see what is in his mind?” asked Sorak mentally.

The Guardian did not reply at once. After a moment, she said, “No, I cannot”

Her reply surprised him. “You cannot probe his thoughts?”

“I have tried, but it is of no avail. I simply cannot penetrate his defenses.”

“Is he warded against telepaths?” asked Sorak.

“I cannot left,” the Guardian replied, “but if he is, the wards are powerful and subtle. There are some individuals who cannot be probed, whose minds are shielded by their own self-contained defenses. Such individuals are strong in spirit, emotionally powerful, and rarely reveal themselves.

They do not trust easily, and they are often dangerous to trust. Their essence remains locked away deep within themselves. They are often loners who do not feel the lack of love or warm companionship. They often do not feel much of anything at all.”

“This man felt compassion,” Sorak said. “He stopped to give aid to a wounded stranger, and he is going with us to Ryana’s rescue with no thought of any gain.”

“No thought of payment in money, perhaps,” the Guardian replied, “but you do not yet know that he does not think of gain.”

“You think he wants something from me?”

“Few people act unselfishly,” the Guardian said. “Most do not undertake risks without some thought of benefit to themselves. I do not like this Valsavis, and the rest of tribe senses an aura of danger about him.”

“I will remain on my guard, then,” Sorak said. “But Ryana’s safety is foremost in my mind.”

“As it is in ours,” the Guardian assured. “We all know what she means to you. And most of us have come to care for her, in our own way. But this man has appeared very conveniently, and in a very timely manner.

Where did he come from? What was he doing traveling alone in so remote an area?”

“Perhaps, as we were, he was bound for the village of Salt View,” said Sorak. “It seems a logical destination.

And he chose a roundabout course, as we did, to avoid marauders.”

“If that is so, then why does he pursue them with you now, when there is no personal stake in it for him?”

“It is possible that he was earnest in his explanation,” Sorak said. “Perhaps he craves adventure. He is a fighter, and obviously, he has been a mercenary. Such men are often different.”

“That may be so,” the Guardian countered, “but all my instincts say this man is not what he appears to be.”

“If he means to play us false,” said Sorak, “then he will discover that I am much more than I appear to be, as well.”

“Do not allow your confidence to blind you, Sorak,” said the Guardian. “Remember, though we are strong, we are not invulnerable. We took an arrow in the back that could easily have killed us, and not even the Watcher saw it coming.”

“I have not forgotten,” Sorak said. “From now on, I will watch my back more carefully.”

“See that you do not leave Valsavis there,” she said.

“I will remember,” Sorak said.

The terrain they traversed was difficult, but Sorak was sure they were moving faster than the marauders. He rode behind Valsavis on his kank, watching the trail ahead, noticing that the old mercenary was picking up every detail of the spoor. By late afternoon, they were approaching the pass midway through the mountain range.

“They will doubtless stop to camp soon,” said Valsavis.

“In the canyon?” Sorak asked.

“Perhaps,” Valsavis replied, “but I would not if I were in their place. I would seek higher ground, the better to avoid surprises.”

“You think they suspect we may be on their trail?”

“I doubt it,” said Valsavis. “They are traveling at an easy pace. They most likely think they left you dead back there, and they can know nothing about me. Unless we are very clumsy, we will have the advantage of surprise.”

“I am very much looking forward to surprising them,” said Sorak grimly.

“We shall have to move quickly,” said Valsavis.

“They will not hesitate to use your friend as a hostage. Meanwhile, you need to consider what you want to do if that should come to pass.”

“They must not be allowed to reach their camp,” said Sorak. “Once we make our move, we must commit ourselves. There can be no retreat.”

“And what of your companion?”

“I know that she would not wish me to hesitate on her account,” said Sorak.

“Suppose they put a knife to her throat when we attack? What then?” Valsavis asked.

“Then I will try to save her if I can,” Sorak replied. “But she would not wish me to surrender or withdraw. And they would find that killing her may not prove as easy as they think.”

“She sounds like an unusual woman,” said Valsavis. “She is villichi.”

“Indeed?” said Valsavis. “I met a villichi priestess once ... a long, long time ago. And if she was a typical example of their order, then I am surprised your friend allowed herself to be taken without a struggle.”

“She was exhausted from our journey,” Sorak said, “and no doubt she fell asleep. If she had not been taken by surprise, she would have left bodies littering the ground.”

Valsavis did not fail to note the elfling’s vehemence. “She is more to you than just a traveling companion, is she not?”

“She is my friend,” Sorak replied in a tone that did not invite further questions.

Valsavis chose not to press the issue. He had already learned what he wanted to know. The elfling cared about the priestess. And more than merely as a friend. That was good to know, he thought. It could come in very useful.

They reached the canyon by late afternoon and could tell by the trail that the marauders were not far ahead. They scouted the canyon carefully from the ridge before venturing down the slope. The marauders had descended to the canyon floor, near the entrance where the foothills sloped up to meet the mountains. Sorak thought it ironic that they had taken an extra day in their trek across the plain just to avoid the canyon pass, and now he had doubled back toil.

He cursed himself for leaving Ryana alone. He had not expected to encounter marauders so far from their camp, but he should have realized how tired she was and that it would be impossible for her not to fall asleep. How much trouble would it have been to let her sleep awhile and recover some strength before he allowed the Ranger to go hunting? He blamed himself for this, and if anything happened to Ryana, he did not know how he would be able to go on.

Toward evening, they finally caught up with the marauders. They had made camp on a trail winding through the lower foothills, one they had obviously used many times before. The clearing showed signs of having been used as a campsite before. Sorak saw that it was not a raiding party, but a hunting party. Sorak observed several of the kanks bearing the beasts they had slain. He and Valsavis had smelled the smoke of the marauders’ campfire long before they saw them. The marauders were taking no trouble to conceal their presence. This was their territory, and they were confident in the security of numbers.

Valsavis had been exactly right. There were nine of them. They had not even taken the trouble to post guards. They were all grouped together around the campfire, laughing boisterously and cooking their supper. Passing around a wineskin, they seemed well pleased with themselves.

And why shouldn’t they be, thought Sorak as he and Valsavis watched the marauders from the shelter of some bushes. They had not only enjoyed a successful hunt, but had stumbled upon an unexpected prize, as well.

Ryana sat nearby, leaning back against a boulder. Her hands were tied behind her, and her arms were bound tightly to her sides by a rope around her chest. Her feet were tied, as well, at the ankles and the knees. She could barely move at all, and the position she was in had to be excruciatingly uncomfortable. Sorak could not tell if she was hurt or not. She was not moving.

“We are going to have to get in closer,” he said, softly.

“Not yet,” Valsavis said, putting a restraining hand on his chest. “Your priestess is safe, for the moment. The marauders will not harm her.

She will fetch a high price at a slave auction, and the bidders do not like damaged goods. Let these carrion eat and drink their fill. A man does not move as quickly when his belly is full.”

Sorak nodded in agreement. “Your advice is sound,” he said. “They will be more vulnerable after they have bedded down for the night.”

“Especially if they continue to drink like that,” Valsavis said. “This may be a great deal easier than we had thought. Pity.”

“Pity?” Sorak said with surprise. Valsavis shrugged. “There is no challenge in slitting the throats of sleeping drunks.”

“I am not interested in challenge, but in Ryana’s safety,” Sorak replied.

“Yes, I can see that,” said Valsavis. “But I have been curious about something. Villichi priestesses possess psionic powers that their training hones to a fine edge. I wonder, why has she not used them to free herself?”

Sorak shook his head. “I do not know. Perhaps she bides her time, as we do, and waits for the best opportunity.”

“She does not look like a villichi,” said Valsavis. “I would not have taken her for one. Doubtless, the marauders have not either, else they would have been more careful with her.” He paused a moment, then, as if it were no more than a casual question that had just occurred to him, he asked, “What is the nature of her gifts?”

“Mind over matter,” Sorak replied. “It is called telekinesis. It is the most common ability with which villichi are born.”

Valsavis noted that for future reference. “Then she can use her power to free herself from her bonds,” he said. “That will help us when the time comes to make our move. Let us hope that she does not make her move first, and prematurely.”

“She is clever,” Sorak said. “She will choose her time.”

“Why does she travel with you?” asked Valsavis. “In my experience, villichi priestesses do not much care for the company of males, regardless of their race. Nor are they generally in need of their protection.”

“Ryana is my friend,” said Sorak, as if that explained everything. He suddenly became aware that Valsavis was asking a great many questions, and volunteering little information about himself. “It was fortunate for us you came along when you did. How did it happen that you were traveling in such an isolated area?”

“I was on my way to the village of Salt View,” Valsavis said, “as I assume you must have been.”

“Why do you assume that?” Valsavis shrugged. “Where else would you be going? Save for the marauder camp, it is the only set-dement for many miles around.”

“Most travelers would have taken the canyon pass,” said Sorak.

“Where a man traveling alone may easily be ambushed,” said Valsavis. “You and I are not so different. We are both able trackers, and we are both wise in the ways of the desert. We evidently had the same idea. Crossing the mountains at the eastern tip of the range would have brought us to the other side directly above Salt View, and taken us farthest from the marauder camp, where we would have been certain to encounter large and well-armed raiding parties. Logic and prudence chose our way for us.”

“Then you came across the Ivory Plain?” said Sorak.

“Of course,” Valsavis said. “How else can one reach the Mekillots? The Ivory Plain bounds them on all sides.”

“So it does,” said Sorak. “You came from Nibenay, then?”

“From Gulg, where the caravan route ends.”

“What brings you to Salt View?” Valsavis shrugged again. “Amusement and diversion,” he replied. “Gulg does not offer much in the way of night life. The oba is too austere a ruler for such things. I had heard the gaming clubs of Salt View have much to offer in the way of entertainment, and their theater is said to be among the best.”

“Somehow, you do not seem to be the sort to be attracted by the theater,” Sorak said.

“Well, in truth, I care little for the theater itself,” Valsavis admitted, “but wherever one finds theatrical troupes, one also finds actresses and dancing girls.”

“Ah,” said Sorak, nodding. “I see.”

“And what of yourself?” Valsavis asked. “Salt View seems like an unusual destination for a druid and a villichi priestess. Besides, I have heard that they are not very fond of preservers there.”

“There would be little purpose in preaching to the converted,” Sorak said.

“So then you are on a pilgrimage?”

“Salt View is an isolated village,” Sorak said. “If they are not fond of preservers, it is doubtless because they have had little if any contact with them. People are always suspicious and wary of that which they do not understand.”

“I seem to recall having heard somewhere that there is at least one preserver already in Salt View,” Valsavis said. “An old druid called the Quiet One. Or perhaps it was the Silent One, I do not quite recall.”

“The Silent One?” said Sorak, keeping his facial expression carefully neutral. “A curious name.”

“Then you have not heard it before?”

Sorak shrugged. “A druid who is silent does not do much to advance the preserver cause. How could he preach the Path and teach others how to follow it?”

“I suppose that’s true,” Valsavis replied. “I had not really thought of it that way.”

“And what of your sympathies?” asked Sorak. “Where do they lie?”

“I do not concern myself overmuch with the struggle between preservers and defilers,” said Valsavis. “I am just a soldier. I fail to see where it has anything to do with me.”

“It has very much to do with you,” said Sorak, “as it will determine the fate of the world you live in.”

“Perhaps,” Valsavis said dismissively, “but then there are many things that can determine a man’s fate, and most of them are things over which he has little control, if any. Political struggles concern me only insofar as whether one side or the other will employ me. As for the larger questions, there is not much a man like me can do to influence their outcome, so I pay them little heed.”

“If everyone believed that way, then there would be no hope for the world,” said Sorak. “I have found that there is much one man can do if he truly sets his mind to it.”

“Well, in that case, I shall leave the saving of the world to young idealists such as yourself,” Valsavis said wryly. “I am much too old and set in my ways to change. I shall help you save your priestess, Sorak. You may consider that my contribution to the larger struggle, if you wish.”

“Forgive me,” Sorak said. “I meant no offense. I have no right to tell you how to live your life, and I did not mean to sound ungrateful. I owe you much.”

“You owe me nothing,” said Valsavis. “Each man does what he does for his own reasons.”

“And he has not told you the truth about his,” the Guardian reminded Sorak.

Sorak chose not to press the issue. All that mattered now was Ryana’s safety. They spent the remainder of their wait in silence, watching the marauders bed down for the night. They took their time about it, however. As darkness fell, they remained gathered around their campfire, joking and drinking. Someone pulled out some dice and they played for a while. An argument broke out, and two of the marauders came to blows while the others watched and shouted their encouragement. They didn’t seem to care who won, just so that it would be an entertaining fight. Sorak thought it might be a good time to make their move, but Valsavis anticipated him, grasping him by the arm even before he had suggested it and saying, “No, not yet. Wait. Soon.”

Sorak’s patience was starting to wear thin. He was not sure how much longer he could wait. Eventually, several of the marauders retired to their bedrolls. The others remained awake, talking and drinking for a while, but soon they, too, went to sleep, leaving two of their number standing watch. As the others slept, the two who remained awake stayed by the campfire, rolling dice and talking quietly. After a while, their gaming became more animated.

“I suspect that they have just increased the stakes to something rather more interesting than money,” said Valsavis.

For a moment, Sorak did not know what he meant, but then he saw the two marauders casting covetous glances at Ryana. He tensed and clapped his hand to his sword hilt.

“Softly, my friend, softly,” said Valsavis.

“Surely, you do not intend for us to simply sit by idly and wait while those two misbegotten-”

“Keep your voice down,” said Valsavis. “It carries easily on the night wind. Their lust for your priestess friend works in our favor. Clearly, they do not suspect she is villichi. Consider, if they wish to have their way with her, they will first have to loosen her bonds. And I would be very much surprised if a priestess who can control matter with her mind has not already thought of doing that herself. Remember, she does not know that we are here. Only two of them remain awake now. If she plans escape, now would be the perfect time. I will wager that she makes her move when they do.”

A moment later, one of the marauders rolled and turned away, swearing softly in disgust. The other looked extremely pleased. He clapped his comrade on the shoulder, and Sorak’s excellent hearing picked up his words.

“Never fear, Tarl. You can have her when I’m finished. You can hold her down for me, and then I shall hold her down for you. But we must be sure to keep her quiet, else we shall wake the others.” They got up and started moving toward Ryana. “Now,” said Valsavis softly. They started to move in.

The marauders reached Ryana and stood there, looking down at her for a moment. She appeared to be asleep. One of them crouched over her and started to untie her legs. The other kept glancing nervously from Ryana to his sleeping companions. Sorak and Valsavis moved in closer, making not the slightest sound.

The first marauder finished untying her legs and started to unwind the rope. The second one reached down to grasp her by the shoulders, so that he could move her away from the rock she was leaning against and lower her to the ground. However, the moment he took hold of her, Ryana made her move. The knife he wore suddenly leapt free of its scabbard on his belt and plunged itself to the hilt into his throat, directly into the larynx.

The man jerked up and back, making horrible, choking, rasping noises as the blood spurted from between his lips. His hands went up to the knife, he staggered several steps, and fell. His companion glanced up suddenly, not having seen what happened, and for a moment, was completely disoriented. He saw his friend staggering, with a knife sticking in his throat, and thinking that someone had thrown it, he glanced around quickly with alarm and saw Sorak and Valsavis entering the clearing. He was about to cry out a warning to the others, but suddenly felt Ryana’s legs scissoring around his throat as his own obsidian knife floated free of its scabbard.

He made a grab for it, and then a struggle ensued as he fought the power of Ryana’s mind, trying to keep the knife from plunging into him. Ryana was weakened from her ordeal, however. She could not both maintain the pressure with her legs and fight his efforts against her control of the knife. Her legs’ grip loosened, and the marauder managed to cry out.

The others came awake. The ones who had drunk the most were slower to respond, but a couple of them roused themselves at once, and the first thing they saw was Sorak and Valsavis quickly moving toward them. They instantly added their voices to the alarm as they lunged for their weapons.

Valsavis drew two daggers, one with each hand, and threw them with lightning speed. Each found its target, and two marauders fell dead with the blades in their hearts. Another lunged at Sorak with an obsidian sword, but as he brought it down in a vicious stroke, Sorak parried with Galdra, and the marauder’s obsidian blade shattered into fragments. Before the astonished man could react, Sorak ran him through. By now, all of the marauders were awake and grabbing for their weapons.

Ryana suddenly released her hold on the marauder she was wrestling with, and he fell to the ground. In that moment, she used her will to force the obsidian knife into his chest. He cried out as it penetrated and twisted. Ryana immediately began struggling free of her bonds, which she had already loosened with her mind while the marauders had been gaming for her.

Two of the marauders went for Valsavis, while the remaining two approached Sorak. Valsavis disposed of his two antagonists with unbelievable speed, executing a circular parry and disarming one man, then, in one motion, pirouetting aside from the second man’s lunge and making a sweeping stroke with his sword, cleanly decapitating the marauder. The man he had disarmed turned to run for his weapon, but Valsavis seized him by the hair, jerked him back, and plunged his sword through his back and out his chest. As he shoved the corpse off his blade, he turned to see how Sorak was faring.

One marauder had already fallen, his blade shattered on Sorak’s sword. Galdra had made short work of him. The second, having seen what happened to the first two, backed away fearfully, reaching for his dagger. He drew it and hurled it at Sorak. Instinctively, Sorak ducked under and allowed the Guardian to the fore. The knife suddenly stopped in midair, frozen about a foot away from his chest.

The marauder gaped in astonishment, and then his amazement turned to horror as the knife slowly turned end over end and then shot toward him like an angry hornet. With a cry, he leapt aside, barely in time. As the knife passed him, he scrambled to his feet, only to see the blade describe an arc in the air and come back at him once again. Panic took him, and he broke, screaming as he turned to run. The blade plunged into his back before he took three steps, and he fell, sprawling, to the dirt. Valsavis had watched it all with great interest. As Valsavis went to retrieve his daggers and wipe them on the bodies of the slain marauders, Sorak ran to Ryana and helped her to her feet. She was weak from having had her circulation cut off by her bonds, but she stood, unsteadily, staring at him with joy and relief.

“Sorak!” she said. “I thought you were dead!”

“Only wounded,” he replied. “Forgive me. I never should have left you all alone.”

“It was my fault,” she said. “You warned me not to fall asleep. ...” She glanced at Valsavis, who stood by, gazing at them as he sheathed his daggers. “Who is that man?”

Sorak turned toward him. “A friend,” he said.

“Perhaps,” the Guardian cautioned him internally. “And then again, perhaps not.”

“His name is Valsavis,” Sorak said aloud. “He found me and tended to my wound. And now I am doubly indebted to him.”

“Then I am indebted to him also,” said Ryana. “Thank you, Valsavis. How may we repay you?”

Valsavis shrugged. “It was nothing,” he said. “Merely an amusing diversion on an otherwise dull and uneventful journey.”

Ryana frowned. “Amusing?” she said in a puzzled tone.

“One finds one’s amusement where one can,” Valsavis replied. “And replenishment of one’s supplies, as well. It seems that these marauders have not only provided us with fresh game and a warm fire, but also a string of kanks well laden with supplies. They will not only make the remainder of our journey easier, but will no doubt find ready purchasers in Salt View. All told, I would say that this has been a rather profitable venture.”

“I suppose one could look at it that way,” said Ryana, gazing at him strangely.

Valsavis shrugged. “How else should a mercenary look at it?”

“I do not know,” Ryana said. “But you fight very well, even for a mercenary.”

“I have had some experience.”

“No doubt,” she said. “You are bound for Salt View, then?”

“Where else is there to go in this forsaken wilderness?” Valsavis replied.

“Since we are bound for the same destination, then it makes sense for us to travel together,” Sorak said. “And when we reach Salt View, you will have the liberty of selling the goods of these marauders and keeping all the profits for yourself. It is, after all, the very least that we can do to repay you for your service.”

“I appreciate the offer,” said Valsavis, “however, keeping at least two of the kanks for yourselves would make your journey easier when you choose to leave Salt View. And Salt View is not the sort of place where one can get by without money. Allow me to propose a somewhat more equitable distribution. With your permission, I will undertake to dispose of the marauders’ goods when we reach Salt View. I have some experience in such things, and can negotiate the best price. Then we may distribute the profits equally, in thirds.”

“There is no need for that,” said Sorak. “Why not half to you and half to us? It will be more than sufficient for our needs.”

“Very well, agreed,” Valsavis said. Ryana shook her head. “Killing these men was necessary,” she said, “and they deserved it richly, but it still seems wrong for us to profit by their deaths.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but would it seem right simply to leave all this behind?” Valsavis asked. “That would be rather wasteful, and not very practical.”

“I must agree,” said Sorak. “And it would not be the first time that I have profited by the deaths of such as these. The world profits from their absence.”

“A most unpreserverlike sentiment,” Valsavis said with a smile, “but I heartily concur. And now that we have settled that, I suggest we remove these bodies to a suitable distance, so that we are not plagued by flies and carrion beasts. Then I, for one, intend to enjoy some of that wine these departed souls have been so kind as to provide us with. I have worked up a mighty thirst.”

Later that night, after they had disposed of the marauders’ bodies by tossing them into a nearby ravine, Ryana sat with Sorak by the fire, and Valsavis slept nearby in his bedroll, having emptied an entire skinful of wine. The marauders had brought some food with them among their supplies, some bread as well as a mixture of dried fruits and nuts and seeds that Ryana was able to eat without breaking her druidic vows. She had regained some of her strength, though the ordeal of the journey and her captivity had clearly taken a lot out of her.

“What do you make of him?” she asked Sorak very softly, so that only he could hear. Valsavis appeared to be asleep, but she did not want him to overhear in case he was still awake.

“I am not yet entirely sure,” said Sorak. “He seems a most peculiar man, but he did come to my aid, and yours.”

“Does the Guardian tell you nothing of him?” asked Ryana with surprise.

“She does not trust him,” Sorak replied. “She is unable to probe his thoughts, and so cautions me to be wary of him.”

Ryana frowned. “The Guardian cannot detect anything about him?”

Sorak shook his head. “No, nothing.”

“Is he warded?”

“The Guardian does not know,” he replied. “She says that if he is protected by a magical ward, then it is both strong and subtle enough to escape detection.

But she also says that there are some people who are immune to psionic probes.”

“Yes, that is true,” Ryana said. “But such people are often very dangerous.” She glanced at Valsavis, stretched out on the ground nearby. “And he has already proven that.”

“He fought with us, not. against us,” Sorak reminded her. “Yes, he did,” she said, “but he appeared from out of nowhere, and at a most convenient time. Where did he come from?”

“Gulg, I think he said.”

“He said,” Ryana repeated. “But how can we know for certain? He may have followed us from Nibenay.”

“I suppose it is possible,” Sorak admitted. “He is one of the finest trackers I have ever seen. It is conceivable that he could have followed our trail. But if the Shadow King wanted us pursued, why would he not send a well-armed force instead of just one man?”

“Perhaps because he does not intend to capture us,” Ryana said. “He could want to have us lead him to the Sage. And what better way for his agent to keep track of us than to take advantage of this opportunity and join us on our journey?”

Sorak pursed his lips, thoughtfully. “All this is merely supposition,” he said.

“Perhaps,” Ryana replied. “But he is a highly skilled and experienced fighter. The best and the quickest I have ever seen, despite his age. And a fine tracker, as you said. He also carries iron weapons. That makes him no ordinary mercenary. And did you note the ring he wears on his left hand? It looks like gold.”

Sorak nodded. “Yes, I saw,” he said. “But then it is also possible that he had served some rich aristocrat who gifted him with the weapons and the ring.”

“The Guardian has cautioned you about him,” said Ryana, “and everything about him raises questions. Yet you seem to want to trust him. Why?”

“I do not wish to think ill of a man merely because he is extraordinary,” Sorak replied.

“As you are,” said Ryana with sudden insight. “Sorak, we cannot afford to be trusting. We have powerful enemies. Enemies who would stop at nothing to find the Sage and destroy him.”

“Valsavis will accompany us to Salt View,” said Sorak. “That is not very far from here. If what he told me was the truth, our paths will diverge once we depart Salt View for Bodach.”

“Suppose he discovers that is where we are bound and decides to follow us. What then?”

“Then we would have ample reason to suspect his motives.”

“Suspect?” Ryana said.

Sorak shrugged. “It would not necessarily be proof that he is an agent of the Shadow King. He is an adventurer who seems to regard danger as a mild amusement. If he learns that we are bound for Bodach, he might be tempted to join us and search for the legendary treasure. And I am not so sure we should refuse him if he makes the offer. A fighter of his skill would be a welcome asset in the city of the undead.”

“We will have more than enough to worry about in Bodach without having him around,” she said.

“If he hopes to have us lead him to the Sage, then I think we can at least trust him to help us live long enough to find him,” Sorak said.

Ryana nodded. “Good point,” she said. “But what happens after we leave Bodach?”

Sorak smiled. “Finding the Breastplate of Argentum and leaving Bodach alive will prove challenge enough for now,” he said. “There will be time to decide what to do about Valsavis afterward. And now you’d better get some sleep. You’ll need your strength. I will keep watch.”

She glanced at Valsavis again and shook her head. “If he is an agent of the Shadow King, then he sleeps very comfortably in our presence.”

“What would he have to fear?” asked Sorak wryly. “He knows we are preservers and would not kill him while he slept, merely on suspicion.”

Ryana grimaced. “Somehow, I doubt that he would hesitate to do that very thing should our roles have been reversed. Or do you disagree?”

“No,” Sorak said, nodding in agreement, “I do not think he would have any problem with that at all.”

“That knowledge isn’t exactly going to help me sleep any easier,” she said.

“I will keep a wary eye on him,” said Sorak. “And we shall see what he does once we reach Salt View.”

“I would not be disappointed if he chose to remain there, despite the dangers we will face in Bodach,” Ryana said.

“If he is truly an agent of the Shadow King,” said Sorak, “then I would much rather have him with us, where we can watch him, rather than have him on our trail, where we cannot. At least one thing is for certain. If he is in the service of the Shadow King, then he has tracked us all the way from Nibenay, across the Great Ivory Plain. We shall not be able to shake him off our trail.”

“Which means that we may have to kill him,” said Ryana.

Sorak stared at Valsavis for a long moment as he lay stretched out on his bedroll, with his back to them. “I fear that we shall have no choice, in that event,” he said at last. “And from what I’ve seen, that will be no easy task.”

“He would be no match for the Shade,” Ryana said.

“I am not so sure,” said Sorak. “But even if our suspicions prove correct, we cannot kill a man if he has done nothing to warrant it. That would be coldblooded murder.”

Ryana nodded. “Yes, I know. So what are we going to do?”

Sorak shook his head. “I do not know,” he said. “At least, not yet. But I will dwell upon it carefully.”

“You think he knows we suspect him?”

“Perhaps,” said Sorak. “He may, after all, simply be a wandering mercenary in search of adventure, just as he claims. On the other hand, he knows about the Silent One. He told me as much. He is either innocent of any guile, or else he is enjoying playing a game with us, the way a mountain cat toys with its prey before the kill. The question is, how long will he toy with us before he makes his move?”

Ryana stretched out on her bedroll. “An unpleasant question to ponder as I try to sleep,” she said wearily.

“Good night, little sister,” Sorak said. “Sleep well.”

“Good night, my love,” she said softly.

Soon, she was asleep. But Sorak remained awake for a long time, staring at the flames and wondering about their new companion. Eventually, he ducked under and slept while the Watcher came to the fore and looked out through his eyes.

All night long, she sat silently by the fire, alert to everything around her, to the slightest sound and the faintest scent on the night breeze. And not once did her sharp gaze leave Valsavis.