had climbed steadily since leaving Alboran. Several days across the gently sloping fertile coastal region, with broad river valleys and prosperous villages. Several more through this slightly cooler upland of rough pasture and little hidden valleys where the farms and villages were smaller and poorer and the goats watched them with thoughtful eyes and half smiles. Ahead, higher hills could now be seen, hazy in the distance. Steep-sided and dark, stretching as far as the eye could see to east and west.
At least their grasp of Arbiq had improved. Several of the other riders were glad of the conversation and the chance to pick up a bit of Makamban or Ketic, Alltud’s native language. It passed the time and relieved the monotony of constant travel. All attempts to find out what they were or were not guarding, however, proved fruitless. Tohmarz knew. Everyone else just did what they were told.
As the sun began to set, they found the ground levelling off. The track they were on had taken them up into a wide, shallow valley where a near-empty river meandered. It was a curious, fractured place as if dumped onto an older landscape that was patiently re-asserting itself.
The path they followed brought them out along one edge of the valley at the foot of a low, notched ridge from which streams flowed at intervals, each cutting its own smaller valley back into the soil and rock of higher ground.
The floor of the main valley was mostly smooth, but large, erratic boulders cast long shadows across the wiry grass and scrub. There wasn’t a person or sign of settlement in sight. More than once they thought of their nearly empty saddle bags as they scouted for somewhere to camp that night.
Tohmarz chose a side valley, in the end. The further they travelled, the larger the tributary vales had become, branching and winding, cutting into the higher terrain. Most of them were dry although the presence of scrub and low withered trees were evidence of water beneath the ground, of seasonal floods. The one they chose had a reasonable flow of water in the very bottom of the stream bed. In the winter it would have been a different prospect as the scatter of boulders testified.
The horses were seen to first, as always. Details were then sent off to collect fuel for fires, pickets were set, and the troop settled itself as best it could in the long, twisting stony ravine.
Jeniche sat on her heels, lost in thought. Alltud returned from collecting a loaf of unleavened bread that one of the others had baked on a griddle. He stretched out beside her, broke the loaf in two, and handed her one half.
‘Seen any more of our camp follower?’ he asked before biting into his share of the bread.
‘Camp follower my bruised backside. Whoever it is, they’re good. They’ve kept pace with us for days and, apparently, they’re invisible. Not one other member of this troop has seen them.’
‘Well, neither have I.’
‘The other sixty? The scouts that Tohmarz may or may not have sent out? No sign of the person, their trail, their camp? Nothing?’
‘Perhaps they really are a useless bunch of ne’er-do-wells hired to act as a decoy.’
‘I’ll treat that observation with the derision it deserves.’
‘So, what else? You think he knows someone else is out there and he doesn’t care?’
She rolled a small pellet of the bread between thumb and finger before flicking it at Alltud. ‘I don’t suppose it matters in the long run.’
He sat up, brushing the pellet away as Jeniche looked round. ‘Why?’
‘Tomorrow night? We can head back toward this spot and then cross to the far side of the main valley before it gets properly light.’
‘Well, as far as a plan goes… It’s a plan.’
‘Right. Well, if you’ll just make up my bed, I have an appointment with a bush. If I can find one that’s private enough.’
In the quiet, Jeniche lay on her back and watched the stars. It was well past midnight and the Milky Way lay at an angle with a long irregular line of red stars pulsing slowly down its centre. Off to the right a blue star shone steadily, surrounded by a faint magenta aura. It was mesmerising and the clarity reminded her why Makamba came first to her thoughts so often. Ynysvron was wonderful, there were distinct attractions, but it was a land of cloud and mist.
Against the background of the slow stellar dance, she picked out the planets Baspati and Angraka, just as Teague, the astronomer at Makamba University, had taught her. And then the wandering stars which moved swiftly in their paths through the dark. She had watched them through Teague’s telescope. Odd-shaped objects that rotated and tumbled, catching the light. Put there by men, Teague had said, before the Evanescence. Sometimes they lost their way, breaking apart and blazing as they fell to Earth. She wished she had learned more; wished there had been time to learn more.
The top of the ravine where willow vale, lavender, and morning glory grew started to glow and, as she watched, the Moon began to rise. Two days from full, it dimmed the stars in that part of the sky. The plains, mountains, and craters on its surface were clear, even to the naked eye. And tonight, the fine spider web of lines that crossed Serenity glistened as they caught the sun.
Teague had studied those lines night after night; she had filled whole books with drawings, notes, and speculations, with gleanings from sparse references that had survived the great dissolution; had planned a more powerful telescope. And when she spoke of them, of her impossible dream of travelling to the Moon to see them, touch them… But Teague was lost. Like the child Shooly with her dolls and Wedol, the baker’s son. Trag. So many victims in Makamba. And Mowen Bey, the gentle Tunduri nun, killed on the threshold of her own country. Remembering the dead, Jeniche drifted off to sleep.
Woke on her feet, swords drawn. Alltud stood beside her, watching her back as she watched his. Around them, noise, people running and calling, hysterical voices. And then, above the pandemonium, Tohmarz could be heard calling for Jeniche.
She made her way down the floor of the ravine to where she knew Tohmarz was camped. Someone was throwing extra fuel on the fire there and in the blaze she saw members of the troop on the slopes surrounding a pitiful band of interlopers.
Sheathing her swords, she stepped forward into the firelight. Several of the strangers turned to look at her and then back to Tohmarz.
‘Refugees,’ he said.
She could see that for herself. Tired, half-starved, and terrified.
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘I thought your presence might reassure them. Calm them.’
‘A woman with two swords?’
‘You know what I mean.’
She did, and she didn’t much like it. After all, she had ridden with the troop for a week and barely knew any of them. She had been with Alltud for three years or more, depending on how you counted it, and they were still strangers in some ways. Now she was being asked to calm distraught refugees.
Not knowing what else to do, she gestured for them to sit and then did so herself. With slow, wary movements, they gathered by the fire, eleven of them in total, and sat on the stony ground. The three children attached themselves to the women and two of them fell asleep straight away. At that Jeniche ran out of ideas, but Alltud appeared with some food he had gathered.
Tohmarz had the good sense to get his men out of sight, although she could hear him questioning some of them about how a group of refugees could stumble into the camp so easily. He sounded angry. Very angry. And it was the only sense she got out of anyone that night.
Once the refugees had eaten, she asked them where they were from, where they were going, if they had been alone. They stared at her with frightened eyes but remained mute. She didn’t push too hard. Instead she told them of the path to the coast, of the villages and towns, of the poor reception they were likely to get. The men nodded. And then they lay down and slept as well.
She left them to it, picking her way quietly into the dark beyond the