subsided, and she frowned down at him, smoothing his hair back from his fevered forehead while he slept. If a lone Marat was in the Valley, perhaps the Steadholder had gone to hunt it down. But if so, then why would this boy be along? He had no particular skill at crafting, she judged, or he would have used it when the windmanes had been attacking them. He bore no weapons, no equipment. He couldn't have been hunting the Marat.
Amara inverted the idea. Had it hunted the folk of Bernardholt? Possible, particularly from the Herdbane tribe, if all that she heard of the Marat was true. They were a cold and calculating people, as ruthless and deadly as the animals that accepted them as one of their own.
But Marat didn't often take more than one beast as... what sufficed to describe the term? Mate? Companion? Blood-sibling? She shook her head with a shiver. The savages' ways were still alien to her, something fantastic from a tale rather than the businesslike reality she had learned from classes in the Academy.
Hordemasters took more than one beast, commonly, as a symbol of status. But what would a Marat hordemaster be doing in the Calderon Valley?
Invading.
Her own silent response to the thought gave her a little chill. Could the holders have run into the advance scouts of a Marat attack force?
The attack could hardly come at a more advantageous time for the enemy, Amara realized. The roads were slowly closing down for the winter season here among the northern cities. Many troops had been given winter furlough with their families, and folk of the countryside, in general, were winding down the frantic labor of harvest into the sedate pace of winter.
If the Marat attacked the Valley now, providing the forces stationed at Garrison were neutralized, they could wipe out every person in it and maraud through all the steadholts, practically all the way back to Riva itself. They might even, if they numbered enough, simply pour around the city and into Alera's interior. Amara shuddered to imagine what a horde might accomplish in that event. She had to contact the Count at Garrison- his name was Bram or Gram or something like that-and put him on the alert.
But what if the boy was lying about the Marat? Or mistaken? She grimaced. She knew the local Citizenry by name, at least, though the memorization of the Lords and Counts had been one of the more tedious chores at the Academy. She had no such knowledge of this Steadholder Bernard or
of the folk of the Valley By all accounts, they were a tough and independently minded folk, but she knew nothing about their reliability or lack of it
She had to talk to this Bernard If he had indeed seen a Marat horde-master and been wounded by one of the great hunting birds of the outland plains, then she had to know it, secure his support (and hopefully some new clothes with it), and act
She frowned But she could expect the opposition to be moving as well Fidelias had lead her into a trap she had escaped by the smallest of margins She had been pursued for several hours and escaped the Knights Aeris sent after her through skill and good fortune Did she suppose that Fidelias would not continue the pursuit?
In all probability, she realized, his business lay here, in the Calderon Valley That had to be one of the reasons Gaius sent her here Fidelias was her patnserus Or had been, she thought, with a bitter taste in her mouth She knew him, perhaps better than anyone else alive She had seen through his deception at the renegade camp, though only barely
What would Fidelias do?
He would judge her by her previous actions, of course He would expect her to arrive in the valley and promptly to make contact with the Steadholders, coordinating information and after suitable data had been gathered, to take action against whatever was happening, whether it meant falling into a defense within one of the strongest steadholts or mobilizing the men of the Valley and the troops of Garrison to meet it
And what would he do to stop it?
He'd find me Kill me And sow confusion among the holders until his plan could begin
A slow chill went through her She considered the situation again, but it was perfectly typical of Fidelias He preferred simple approaches, direct solutions Keep lies simple, he had always told her, keep plans simple Leave them open to