They detoured west at a snail’s pace, slow enough that their unnamed visitor could have easily closed the distance between them if he’d wanted. Which he didn’t. The elf—and it was an elf, Venick could see that clearly now—kept a healthy stretch of mountain between them, stopping when they stopped, moving when they moved, routing himself through the shadows in an attempt to follow unseen.
It was a poor attempt. A laughable one. Clearly, this elf was no trained assassin. No great expert in stealth, either, if his current performance was any measure. He was too obvious, too slow to duck whenever Venick glanced back. And he wasloud, upturning gravel and muttering, the echoes of which were carried down plainly by the wind.
An assassin would’ve known that would happen. An Evov-born citizen might not. But a citizen would have had no reason to stay hidden, slinking behind boulders like a thief. Ask who this visitor was, then. Ask what business he had creeping along in their wake.
Or don’t. It would be easy for Venick and Dourin to add a little speed and lose this elf for good. Venick had half a mind to do just that. Instead, he turned around and crossed his arms and faced their follower squarely. It took two full breaths for the elf to notice. Another two before he got his legs moving, bolting back for the shadows.
“Don’t do that,” Dourin muttered.
“This is taking too long. And he’s an idiot.”
“It could be a trap.”
“Could be,” Venick agreed, watching the elf peek out from behind a rock before ducking away again. “So let’s ask him.”
“We will. Soon.”
They angled south. Overhead the storm was blowing over, pulling weak sunlight back in behind it. Venick was grateful for the late daylight, even if it did little to warm him. It was colder here than it had been these past weeks, cold enough for Venick’s breath to fog the air. It rolled out of him like smoke from a chimney.
And cut off, abruptly, as they reached a sharp drop. Venick held his breath and looked down the cliff, judging the distance to the nearest jutted rock. He aimed another glance back at their follower. The elf had lost ground on them. Venick could just make out his dark outline in the distance.
They jumped the ledge. The drop to the outcrop wasn’t far, but the landing was steep, and he and Dourin skidded on knees and palms before catching their balance. Together, they moved up against the ledge’s crumbling wall, pressing against it to wait.
The minutes ticked by. Venick strained to hear. The wind had died down a little, which was good. It made it easier to hear—yes,that. The soft sound of breathing. Muted footfalls. A fresh crackle of rock tumbling loose overhead.
The elf didn’t see them. He jumped the ledge right over their heads, landing just as they had, sliding on dusty earth and scrambling to keep his footing. His hands were occupied, his body exposed.
Easy prey.
In one swift movement Venick stepped forward, swinging his leg to trip the intruder while Dourin came up on his opposite side, drawing his sword and moving it to the elf’s pale neck. In an instant, they had the stranger on his back, hands up in surrender.
“Who are you?” Dourin demanded.
“Please,” the elf squeaked. He wore commoner’s clothing—silk, finely made—and appeared unarmed. That might have been a comfort, if not for the fact thatunarmedrarely meanharmless, where elves were concerned.
“Whoareyou?” Dourin asked again, touching his blade to the elf’s delicate skin.
“Rahven,” the elf replied quickly. “My name is Rahven. I saw you leaving the city. I know who you are, and I wish to join you.”
“By following silently behind us? Why not announce yourself?”
“I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Of this!” Rahven pleaded. “Of you. I have…heard stories.” His eyes darted in Venick’s direction.
Venick stiffened. “Let’s make this quick.” He switched to elvish. “Are you a southerner?”
“No.” Rahven answered earnestly in that same language.
“Do you have any ties to Farah or the southern army?”
“The Dark Queen is no friend of mine.”
“That,” Dourin said, “is not an answer.”
Rahven’s elven mask—already brittle—crumbled. His eyes darted fearfully between them. “Please. I am a scholar. I served Queen Rishiana on her council before…” He swallowed. “I was loyal to her. Farah knows it. Her conjurors came for me. They said they would have me killed if I did not join Farah. They gave me a choice…”
