do you mean?”
Metal scraped against metal—a sword being drawn!
“Where is the Koramite?” the man demanded.
“Don’t threaten me,” said Nettle.
A pause. A scuffle.
“Stop,” said Nettle, his voice distressed. “He left on foot the first chance after we passed through the gate.”
Talen wished he could see what was happening. All he could see was the bark before him and the rumps of three horses.
“We saw two sitting on this wagon seat.”
“That’s what we meant for you to see,” said Nettle.
“You lie.”
Nettle cried out in pain.
Talen almost leaned out to get a better view. What if they had found the hatchlings back at the farmstead? If they had, Nettle was in terrible danger.
“Fool,” said Nettle. “I rode with that barrel and sack of potatoes next to me, all covered with cloth. He’s gone, flown!”
“You’re lying,” the second man said. He raised his voice. “Search the woods.”
A SHORTNESS OF BREATH
T
alen could hear the men fanning out in the trees below him, their boots crunching to the leaves. One man called out to the others, telling them to look for spoor in the leaves. Another told Talen to reveal himself or face harsher consequences.
He pressed himself further into the rough bark of the elm. He could not see any of them at first. Then one man with a black-and-gold-checkered scarf tied at the back of his bald head walked into view in front and below him.
The man held a short sword out in front of him. If he turned around and looked up, he’d see Talen as clearly as a pig at a party. And there was nowhere Talen could go. If he moved, if he scuffed one bit of bark to fall below, someone was sure to see.
Lords, this was a bad idea. Talen thought of his experience with Ke in the tree back home just the day before. You couldn’t escape someone in a tree. Why had he jumped up here?
The man with the gold-checkered scarf turned around, scanning the brush around him.
If they saw him, what would he do? Not climb higher. He’d tried that with Ke. He’d have to go lower. Or, like a squirrel, he could run along the limb of one tree to another until he had put enough distance between him and his pursuers to drop to the ground and run like a madman.
The man in the checkered scarf examined the ground. He turned his back on Talen, squatted and examined the forest floor more closely. Then he looked up at the trees in front of him.
He began to turn about, to scan the trees.
Talen couldn’t spring to another limb of this tree. It would rustle the leaves.
He looked about for any escape. To his left he saw a small stub sticking out from the trunk. It was barely enough to stand on.
The man continued to turn.
If he could use that, if it didn’t break under his weight . . .
Talen quickly stepped to the stub.
It held, and he gripped the rough elm bark to steady himself.
The move hadn’t taken him totally from the man’s view. But Talen couldn’t go around to the other side of the tree because that was in full view of the road. He looked up. The next branch was too fat to grab easily, and far too high above him anyway.
Despite Talen’s fear, his limbs felt miraculously full of energy. His legs—it felt as if they carried nothing, as if his entire body weighed no more than a feather.
He could make that leap to the next branch above him. He could leap and hang there if he had to. His arms felt that strong.
Talen could almost see the profile of the man’s face. One more turn and he’d spot Talen.
Standing on the branch stub, Talen coiled himself as best he could.
The man began to turn.
Talen sprang.
The power in his legs was immense, but it wasn’t enough.
Perhaps the perch had been too small. Or perhaps it had twisted just a bit at the last moment. Whatever the cause, he didn’t make the branch. Didn’t come close.
He reach out for the trunk of the giant old elm, his fingers spread wide, reaching out with toes and knees, reached out and grasped it in a bear hug. He clung to the rough bark with all his strength.
He expected to fall, to dash his worthless brains on the ground below. But he didn’t. His fingers, like his arms and legs, were full of life, and he clung to the trunk like some great, four-legged insect.
It was odd.