The Whitefire Crossing - By Courtney Schafer Page 0,10

returned with Kiran and the gelding in tow. After a quick discussion, I secured a pinto mare for myself, and a pile of tack. Kiran followed my instructions readily enough as I showed him how to check over and adjust the gelding’s saddle. I watched carefully as he swung himself up. It wasn’t smooth, or graceful, but he managed it without help, which I took as a good sign.

Cara was already mounted and waiting when we returned. “You and Kellan take the mid station, with the supply wagon. Jerik’s on point, and I’ll take the rear.”

I nodded and tried to look grateful. Cara had seen Kiran’s inexperience and was giving us a chance to let Kiran switch off riding the horse with riding in the wagon. But as long as we stayed with the supply wagon, we’d be in earshot of Harken, our wagon’s drover. Harken had handled the outrider supply wagon for convoys longer than I’d been alive, and he was canny as they came, despite his laid back demeanor.

“At midmeal, Kellan and I can switch stations with you for a bit, if you want to eat in comfort while we get some exercise.” I gave Cara a meaningful look, which I hoped she’d interpret as me wanting to work on my apprentice’s shaky riding skills away from any catcalling drovers.

“Fine with me.” The amused approval in her blue eyes told me she’d taken it the way I wanted. She turned her horse and trotted off along the snaking line of wagons.

Kiran watched her go with a little, puzzled frown. “Why aren’t we all riding together?” His voice was low and hesitant. At my encouraging glance, he spoke a little louder. “You said an outrider’s job doesn’t truly start until we reach the high mountains...”

“Yeah, but rockfall’s a danger even in the lower reaches of the canyons. Each outrider sticks with a different part of the convoy so if a bad rockfall or avalanche hits, then only one outrider gets injured or killed. If the convoy lost all its outriders, there’d be nobody to safely direct the search for survivors, or scout once the convoy moves on.” He’d never know how cold that logic really was. I still had screaming nightmares about the terrible day Sethan had died.

Metal squealed, followed by a deep groaning sound. I straightened in my saddle, anticipation driving unpleasant memories into hiding. Far up ahead, the great western gate swung open, massive metal doors being pulled apart with a system of gears. My heart lifted as the mountains beyond came into view. The snow on their tops blazed fiery pink with dawn alpenglow, ridges and pinnacles standing out in sharp relief. The beauty took my breath away, and for a moment I felt like the luckiest guy in the whole world, forgetting all about Jylla and the job and all the rest of it. I couldn’t keep a grin off my face as Meldon shouted, a hand bell rang, and the first teams of mules started forward in their traces. There’s nothing like the thrill of starting a mountain trip.

***

My horse plodded up the sandy trail after the outrider wagon. Harken appeared to be dozing on the wagon’s frontboard, his broad-brimmed hat tilted down over his face, but I wasn’t fooled. Soon as Cara returned, I’d drag my so-called apprentice off for our long-delayed private conversation. I’d been chewing over Pello’s possible involvement all morning. No surprise that Kiran’s little tale of banking houses wasn’t the full story; I hadn’t expected anything different. But if he’d lied to me about the level of scrutiny we faced, then highsider or no, I’d make him regret it.

Kiran sure didn’t seem concerned now. He’d been snarled up tight as coilvine when we’d met at the fountain, but the stiff set of his shoulders had begun to ease the moment we passed the Whitefire gate. He almost looked relaxed, wedged between lumpy oilcloth sacks in the back of the wagon. His head was bent over some spare strands of rope as he diligently practiced the climbing knots I’d shown him earlier. It reminded me of Melly and the other kids with their string game, and I turned away.

Behind us, the remainder of the trade convoy stretched in a long line back down the trail. It had taken us all morning to cross the alkali flats outside the city walls. Now we’d reached gently rising slopes, covered in sagebrush and rabbitbrush, punctuated by occasional black lumps of whorled glassy rock