Players of the Game. Graeme Talboys K.

made off in the opposite direction until they reached a ravine they had passed earlier in the afternoon.

      Tohmarz stayed on the road, watching as his troop disappeared into their three separate hiding places. Once he was sure they were off the track, he rode with Jeniche and Alltud into their chosen hideaway. The group that had ridden in here were already dismounted and the horses were being led up under the trees, staying as close to the mouth of the ravine as they could.

      Once they had settled, Tohmarz walked the line to ensure all were well concealed. Jeniche had no doubt the sub-commanders of the other groups were doing the same. She watched with interest. They had clearly done this before.

      It was a long wait, but no one broke ranks. Tohmarz came back and joined Jeniche and Alltud. They sat in silence in the shade of a tree close to the mouth of the ravine and listened. Eventually, a faint buzz reached them. It might have been one of the bees that drifted in the sage bushes just behind them near the crest of the rise, but the pitch was more insistent and never once broke off. Before long it drowned out the sound of the tiny, dark honey makers.

      In the warm afternoon, the heat drained out of Jeniche and she sat miserable and cold as the airship passed close by. It had approached from the west and now, as they watched, swung sharply round at the valley’s edge to cut back across at an angle all the time heading slowly north.

      ‘Searching,’ said Tohmarz, perhaps to himself.

      A scrabbling sound came from further up the ravine, stones rolling down a slope. One of the riders approached. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘The surface gave under me.’

      ‘Any dust?’

      ‘No, sir.’

      ‘All right, go on.’

      ‘No other ships in sight and this one didn’t slow or set down at all.’

      Tohmarz dismissed the man with a wave and turned his attention back to the valley just as the airship swung round on the far side.

      They watched two more sweeps of the terrain, the airship pulling slowly further away from them, conscious always that any move on their part would be seen straight away from that altitude.

      Moving cautiously, they climbed the opposite side of the ravine and lay with just their heads over the top, peering between some thorn bushes. The airship was on their side of the valley again, moving more slowly, almost drifting with the breeze. Swinging round, it turned to face them. For a moment they tensed, half expecting it to head back in their direction. Then they heard faint firecracker sounds.

      Jeniche closed her eyes and lowered her head. ‘Bastards.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘They’re not searching,’ she said, looking up again. ‘They’re hunting.’ She turned her head to look at Tohmarz. ‘You’ve heard that before, haven’t you? Seen those ships. Faced those killers.’

      More mosket fire reached them. The ship shuddered, swinging round again and losing height. Lines were dropped, tiny figures sliding down, moving on the ground. His face a mask of stone, Tohmarz made no reply.

      Jeniche turned away, from Tohmarz, from the slaughter. Perhaps the Occassans had seen some goats and were replenishing their larder. Perhaps. She thought of the small huddle of refugees, of the look in the child’s eyes. All the more reason to run.

      It was several hours before it was safe to move. The ship had remained anchored for a while and then resumed its pursuit northwards, back and forth across the valley. Once it was completely out of sight, the troop reassembled and they galloped south until the horses needed to rest.

      There were no fires that night, which suited Jeniche and Alltud. And the Moon wouldn’t be up until much later if it could be seen at all. As they had ridden up out of the valley onto the southern end of the broken lands, the sun had set, painting the southern cloud with gory colour, bruised reds fading through a charred brown to heavy darkness. For a while, the air had grown oppressive and they had seen flickers of lightning along the horizon.

      Thin forest was their only shelter; deep shadows and a heavy layer of pine needles. On Tohmarz’s order they spread themselves out. He had placed Jeniche and Alltud near the centre, but as the light faded and they rubbed down their horses, they edged toward the western end.

      When it was fully dark and they were certain it was safe, they re-saddled their mounts, making sure everything was secure and tightly strapped so they wouldn’t rattle or jingle. And then they settled down and waited.

      ‘If that little display this afternoon wasn’t interesting, I don’t know what is. The way they wheeled off into three groups like that and disappeared into the nearest hiding places. They’ve done that before,’ said Alltud. ‘A lot of times. And as for their reaction to the shooting of the refugees…’

      ‘They’ve seen it before. All too often. And are too well schooled to let their anger get the better of them. Whatever they are, they aren’t an escort. There’s certainly no evidence of treasure. Nothing large. And no real sign of anything small.’

      ‘Certainly no sign of anything so valuable it needs sixty or more men as an escort.’

      ‘Sixty-seven,’ said Jeniche.

      ‘Are you sure? I thought it was sixty-five.’

      ‘It was when we set out, but we picked up two more today.’

      ‘Where from? We haven’t passed through a settlement for days.’

      ‘No idea, but—’ She stopped short at the sound of horses.

      ‘One of the pickets?’

      ‘I’ve never heard them ride off before.’

      ‘Well, we had better walk the horses out of here for some distance before mounting.’

      They said nothing more, but settled down to rest. It was going to be a long, tiring, and dangerous night.

       Chapter Eight

      They waited side by side in the dark listening to the camp go to sleep. The whispered exchanges of tired horsemen, grunts and rustling, snores, the soft thud of a boot to stop the snores, and then just the shifting of horses, the rustle of a nocturnal creature, and the occasional footfall of someone on watch. The storm that had loured on the sunset horizon had come to nothing and the wind, such as it had been, died away as darkness fell.

      Edging a horse through sparse woodland at night without waking anyone else in the process was every bit as difficult as Jeniche had anticipated. Had it been possible to put distance between themselves and the troop without their mounts, she would have been the first to suggest going on foot, but it all went well. Right up to the point they were about to climb into the saddle.