How exactly do you suggest we do that?”
Lazare’s enthusiasm is undampened. “We take the fire to them.”
Beast fixes his gaze upon the smaller man. “Why are you being so helpful with this? The charbonnerie are not normally this involved.”
Lazare turns his gaze to the trees around us, eyes darting among the shadows for saints know what. “Powder artillery is the way of the future and something the charbonnerie know well. It seems a good time to demonstrate that to the king.”
That is well thought out, as it will give his people a way forward if or when their rights to the wildwood that has been their livelihood for so long are compromised.
Beast scratches his ear. “And I presume you have suggestions on how we may do this?”
“I wondered when you’d ask.”
* * *
Toward the end of the day, we come to another menhir, this one a giant slab of stone laid over two smaller ones, like a table. Lazare turns right at the ancient stone and leads us into a section of the woods so populated by trees, I fear Beast’s wide shoulders will prevent him from passing.
After nearly half a mile through that—accompanied by a number of curses and grumbles from some of the men—the trees thin out abruptly and we spill into a clearing.
This one also contains a handful of the charcoal burning mounds and as many tents. It looks smaller and far less prosperous than Kerrigan’s.
A long, thin man steps from behind one of the trees. By the number of heartbeats surrounding us, I am guessing the others hide there as well.
“Greetings, Burdic,” Lazare says. “I am here with Kerrigan’s permission.”
Burdic’s eyebrows rise higher in his dome-like forehead, staring at the rest of our party. “And the others?”
“Also have Kerrigan’s permission.”
Ignoring us, Lazare dismounts and ambles over to the other charcoal burner. As they talk, Burdic’s eyes keep returning to us, his frown growing deeper.
“You don’t have to like it,” Lazare finally says. “You just have to let me do what Kerrigan ordered.”
Claiming Kerrigan ordered rather than gave permission seems a stretch of the truth, but clearly this is charbonnerie business.
“I’m surprised he doesn’t just say that the Dark Mother is with him,” Beast murmurs in my ear. “That ought to settle it once and for all.”
“Hush. It’s probably your terrifying visage that is giving him pause.” We fall silent as the two men stop talking and head toward us.
Burdic doesn’t bow, but does incline his head, which is something. “I will honor Kerrigan’s promise of hospitality,” he says. “But as you can see, we have little enough to spare, so all I can truly offer you is a place to camp.” His glance keeps flickering to me as he talks, and I wonder what exactly Lazare told him.
“That is all the hospitality we require,” Beast says.
Burdic nods again. “Got work to do. You’re welcome to join us around the fire tonight.” And with that, he returns to his business, the others finally emerging from their hiding places behind the trees. Two, I notice, hold long crossbows, which they lower.
“You five, come with me,” Lazare says, pointing at Beast, me, Maraud, Aeva, and Gen. “The rest can get started making camp. Dark comes early to this part of the forest.”
I find myself wondering if it ever leaves.
* * *
Lazare leads us through the thick leaf mulch to a brownish mound, also covered in leaf mulch. As we draw to the other side, I see a long, narrow opening across the front of it, like some ancient mouth. “Here we are,” Lazare announces. “Ladies first.”
I stare at him. “Am I to climb into that hole in the ground like some badger?”
“It’s not a hole, you half-wit. It’s a cave.”
“With no room to do anything but crawl! I don’t think Beast can even fit through it.”
“I can.” Beast’s voice is muffled as he slips through the opening into the cave beyond.
“Do you require assistance, my lady?” Lazare asks with mocking politeness.
“Of course not, you insufferable goose.” With as much grace as I can muster, I drop to my knees and slither through the opening to find myself in a strange new world unlike anything I have ever seen before. The cave stretches back as far as my eye can see, the ceiling opening up so that there is plenty of room to stand upright. The smell of rich earth is nearly overpowered by a bitter, acrid odor that burns the inside of my nose. Against the walls of the