that only made it worse."
Jewd took a breath. "What exactly is it that you can do?"
Kilt's face twisted into disgust. He looked away, then up into the trees, considering his answer. Kilt could see Leo, who had arrived at the summit of the hill they were ascending. He was scanning ahead and soon would be back. This conversation needed to be behind them by the time Leo returned, for Kilt had no intention of sharing his secret with the king. He sighed. "I have an odd ability to elicit information out of people, that's all."
Jewd regarded him suspiciously. "Against their will. Is that what you're saying?"
Kilt nodded. "I can't make it last for long. You see, nothing so special."
"I'd give my left nipple for such a skill, Kilt!"
"No, you wouldn't, Jewd. That's the point. There's a price."
"Such as?"
"Well, I get nosebleeds every time I use the magic."
"I've never seen you with a nosebleed."
"And now you have the answer to your next question."
Jewd looked suspicious. "So now you read minds?"
"No, I think it's obvious you want to ask me if I've ever used my ability against you. And as you've never seen me with a nosebleed, not only do you have the answer you want, but you can reassure yourself that I'm telling the truth when I say that I have not made use of the magic through our life together. The last time - before yesterday - was when I was barely a stripling youth."
Jewd's expression turned to one of awakening. "Nosebleeds, of course! It comes back to me now."
"Yes, well, you only saw me with them once or twice as a child, I recall."
They both glanced up and saw Leo making tracks back toward them.
"So you bled and Vulpan saw it, I take it," Jewd said.
"Yes, damn it. It was the blood that attracted him to me. Once he tasted it, I had to admit my skills and naturally he refused to let me leave. I was being taken to join all the other Vested, presumably."
"Aren't Vested supposed to be marked somehow?" Jewd queried.
"No, you're thinking of the legend of an aegis," Kilt said dismissively. "That's entirely different."
"I missed the nosebleed sign, though, didn't I?"
"I never gave you any," Kilt replied, his tone regretful. "I'm sorry, Jewd. You're the last person I'd ever want to - "
His friend waved a hand. "You've told me now. I'm shocked. I'd be lying if I said anything different but I must accept it. I can see you don't relish its company."
"I hate it! I've been running from it all my life."
"There's nothing else?"
Kilt shook his head, despising the lie.
"Well, we don't have any need to discuss it again," Jewd said as Leo skidded down the final few paces.
"You two look very serious," the king observed.
"Kilt's pain is intensifying," Jewd answered. "What did you see?"
"The landscape is still, no riders anywhere on the roads or paths below. We need to swing more west now and I've found a good track that should make the going easier for you, Kilt. We'll be back in familiar territory by nightfall if we make good time today."
Kilt felt relief. "I'm going to need a spectacular disguise."
"What for?" both of his companions asked at the same moment.
"For when I go to Brighthelm and get Lily," he replied, surprised they needed to ask.
Roddy was exhausted from trailing the pair. He knew their names now. Petor was not Petor at all but a youth called Piven. And his companion was an older man he called Greven. They were not happy travelers, he noticed. The man was mostly silent. Piven did all the talking whenever there was any talking.
Roddy was good at tracking. Being an only child, he'd taught himself how to play alone and play quietly. The forest had become his playground and its animals his playmates. He had learned how to creep up on even the most timid squirrel and be able to watch it from a close distance without it suspecting. Following Piven was easy, although Roddy could feel the magic bristling around the youth who had saved his life. He still couldn't understand why the compulsion to follow Piven was irresistible, stronger even than his anxiety for his mother and how bereft she would be without him. But he couldn't not follow the stranger.
Both Roddy and his mother had always known that Roddy was different to other children. The palsy in his hand had always fascinated his peers, while his mother's neighbors simply used to sigh, squeeze