Cab tried to ignore the voice that told him he’d know the answer if he hadn’t deserted.
“Their ancestral home burned.” Morien stirred the living coals with an iron poker. No wisps of light rose in the shimmering air. He turned, owlish, to meet Cab’s gaze with his. “But you already knew that.”
Cab deserved that jab, but it stung, poisonous, coming from the sorcerer.
“The survivors,” Cab said. “What I mean is, we should head to see them next. On this mission.”
“Very well,” Morien replied. “You’ll be provided with a map to the Far Glades, and horses to ride out early tomorrow. Should your intelligence prove fruitful, I will rejoin the party. I don’t think I need to tell you the trouble there shall be if your intelligence proves less than fruitful.”
Easier than Cab had thought it would be to convince him.
Easier than he’d hoped. They’d leave tomorrow.
That didn’t give Cab much time to resign himself to what he was riding toward: the survivors of the Ever-Loyal massacre, in which Cab had played a bloodstained part.
Three days on horseback to reach the Far Glades, which on the map was even farther removed from city life than Kerry’s-End.
The first day, Rags kept Cab from sinking into his thoughts by raising a wild, hairy stink about having to head back to the countryside.
“What is that smell?” He had rolled his eyes, then pretended to faint off his horse. Immediately lost his balance for real. Prince Shining Talon of Vengeance Drawn in Westward Strike trotted up quickly to the skinny thief’s side and righted him in one smooth motion before Rags could be trampled by his horse’s hooves.
The poor mount wanted to trample him badly.
Prince Shining Talon received a thunderhead glare in thanks for his effort. Much how an alley cat feigned aloof dignity after an embarrassing fall.
“Cow pasture up ahead,” Cab explained in answer to Rags’s question. Trying to be amenable.
After all, they were allies until further notice.
Later, Rags rode up alongside Cab and asked if he thought sheep were evil.
“Not particularly,” Cab replied.
“You’re wrong. They are. You can see it in their eyes,” Rags insisted.
The second day, and the storms it brought, overwhelmed even Rags’s capacity for unceasing complaints. Silence fell with the water. They pulled on waxed cloaks and disappeared beneath their hoods, Cab and Rags riding between the drumbeat of rain and the drumbeat of horses, while Shining Talon strode beside them, offering comfort to Rags’s miserable mount.
Cabhan nearly missed the stream of Rags’s curses and complaints. They’d distracted him from where he was going and why he was going there, serving as barricade between him and their destination.
But, One said, there’s no avoiding it.
I don’t think House Ever-Loyal is going to be inclined to work with me, he told One as they made camp the first night.
Cab-my-heart, that’s a problem for later. You’ve seen how delightful communication can be between us. You’ll bring bliss to an Ever-Loyal. Perhaps it might be enough to atone for these sins you obsess over.
Maybe. Maybe not. I’ll be bringing Morien and his foul arts.
One suffers for love, One replied.
Cab rode on with Rags in tow, Shining Talon still soothing Rags’s long-suffering horse, following the map provided by Lord Faolan’s cartographer. There was no other choice.
Time to face the consequences of his actions.
Riding up to the Ever-Loyal’s cottage door was no different from the past few days of riding, Cab told himself.
Save that when the cottage door opened an inch, eyes peering out to fix on him, a girl had started to scream.
One sighed. Oh, you’ve been recognized!
Cab swore and dismounted, unslinging the sword belt Morien had provided him with and dropping it to the grass. He held up his hands, began to say something like “I intend no harm,” but the screaming didn’t stop.
He wanted to scream, too.
He froze where he stood, attempting to make himself look smaller, rooted in the front yard like stone.
He’d prepared himself to accept Ever-Loyal hatred, their curses, as his earned punishment. He wasn’t ready for all this screaming.
Cab was still standing like a statue of guilt when something crashed into him from the right and knocked him to the earth. A cloud of dust and pollen rose at the impact. Hands gripped Cab’s collar, hauling him upright. Cab noticed with chagrin that One didn’t step in to interfere.
“This is going great,” Cab heard Rags grumble.
Cab went limp instead of bracing himself for a blow about to land. And it did land. A fist swung in with a whoosh,