It was reflex at this point to look up in the dark of the evening and expect to see Petur there across from him. He wanted to hear the voices of the children, happy to see him or moaning about their lessons. He anticipated the growls and grunts of training as background noise, the Corps working in different groups and various states of shift to figure out how best to get advantages on the battlefield.
Sleeping was the worst. Once the fire was banked, it got cold quickly, and despite how sunny and lovely it had been further south, up here the trees were already showing signs of their leaves turning. Even someone as expert at building solid shelters as Deyvid couldn’t expect to be as comfortable outside as he had been in Petur’s bed, and here he lacked the furnace-like warmth that his lover exuded to cuddle up to.
Hehatedsleeping alone.
You’ve gone soft,Deyvid heard his father’s voice say in his mind.Soft and southern. You’re a traitor to your people, both inside and out. Your mother would be ashamed of you. Yourdaughterwould be ashamed of you.
Would she? Deyvid stared out at the darkness of the forest night, darker than it ever got on the Harrier plains unless you were inside one of their massive tents, and thought about Alie. She was a teenager now, probably chafing under the heavy hands of her mother and grandfather. Too young to be married, at least. And she was likely to be the only heir Dawshen Windwest had now, so she was unlikely to be married until she was well into her twenties so they could solidify her claim on the clan and the herds.
She was old enough to have formed opinions of Deyvid now, beyond what she’d been told. What did she think of him? Did she believe whatever lies her grandfather had told her? Did she hate him for leaving her behind when he escaped? That was the one part of his plan Deyvid had second-guessed over and over:whether or not to leave his girl in the care of the clan or brave the south with her. In the end, he’d left her, in large part because the thought of providing for her on his own, in a place surrounded by enemies, and with Deyvid standing out the way he did, was too daunting. He hadn’t been sure he’d be able to keep himself alive back then, much less able to keep a dependent happy and healthy.
It was too late for regrets, he reminded himself. He’d made his choice, and now he had to live with it. She would hate him, or miss him, or think nothing of him at all, and that was no longer for him to have a say in.
If Petur were there, he would have sensed Deyvid’s depressive turn. He would already be holding him in a tight embrace, no need to speak between the two of them, just pure compassion from his lover.Love …there might be that, too, depending on how much Deyvid wanted to be distracted from his own dark thoughts. Petur never pushed, but he was always ready, and Deyvid liked to be wanted so well. There was an honesty to naked bodies that he appreciated, and it wasn’t as though coupling with Petur was ever less than good, usually almost overwhelmingly so.
Think about something else. Anything else.Deyvid tried, but he couldn’t, lost to memories of his family—all parts of it—until dawn. It was going to be a rough day for scouting, but he’d worked through rough rays before. This close to the border, though, he would have to be extra careful.
He left the horses hobbled in a pleasant meadow that would see them well for several days, then began the next phase of his investigation. He shouldered a pack full of tricks of the trade and food that wouldn’t need to be heated at dusk, then set off north at a slow and careful pace toward the first haven he remembered in this part of the forest.
Havens were secret resting places for Harriers, usually so well hidden that they could be used from one generation to the next. They were small and surrounded by careful mixes of plant life that created so many conflicting smells that shifters usually stayed away in an effort to spare their noses. The scent was only mildly unpleasant for a regular person, and Deyvid had long since trained himself to ignore it. He reached the first haven before the sun was up and very carefully peeked in at it.
There was no one there and no sign that it was currently in use, but the fire held ashes that were still dry. That meant they were likely no more than two days old. Deyvid inspected the little hideaway for messages and found nothing, but there was a cache of dried food and apot, of all things. Pots were expensive among Harriers, especially metal ones like this instead of the lightweight, treated hide their people were used to using.
Curious.
Deyvid left it all alone and made a place for himself to sleep not far from the haven, finally dropping off just as the sun was coming up. He slept deeply until midafternoon, and after waking, cleaning himself up, and eating a dry, compressed bar of meat, fruit, and grains, began walking to the next site. He didn’t approach the haven closely until nightfall but found it to be empty as well. It also showed signs of recent use, though, and a series of hashmarks on one of the inward-facing tree trunks spoke of a schedule being kept.
Suspicious.
It wasn’t until he moved on to the third haven that Deyvid actually found one inhabited. Harriers, by dint of being a nomadic people who lived with the rhythms of their horses, tended to move about almost exclusively during daylight hours. Becoming a High Harrier had involved having that instinct trained out of him, and as hard as it had been to become a crepuscular creature, Deyvid was grateful for it at times likethese. All the beatings, all the deprivation, all the pain had turned him into someone who could be alert at any time, day or night, and to a degree that was impossible for a regular Harrier, even one who’d been nominally trained as a spy.
As these three clearly had.
He was close enough to look at them but soon determined there wasn’t much of interest to see. They wore riding gear—leathers, simple underclothes, and long, weatherproof ponchos that wrapped around their shoulders. They didn’t wear clan markings, smart under the circumstances, but they didn’t need to.
The moment he heard their conversation, Deyvid knew who they worked for.
“—to step up the efforts,” one of the trio said.
“Easy for him to say,” another spoke up in a lower, gravelly voice. “He’s not the one risking his neck on the edge of a shifter’s tooth every day.”
“We’ve tried getting to Delomar twice since the last attempt. It’s locked down.”
“So much the better,” the second one opined. “We want themscared, not desperate. If they actually get mad enough to send troops up here, we’re dead. It’s the middle of foaling season—no one is ready for a fight.”
The first one snorted. “Southerners don’t understand our seasons. They don’t know our vulnerabilities.”
“You know as well as I do that’s not true, after Windwest’s son turned on us.” There was silence for a moment. “He’s the reason we haven’t struck one off yet.”
“Really?” the third one murmured. “I thought that was the queen’s brother. He’s got a demon form, did you know that? They say he can communicate with the gods of the underworld when he takes it.”
“Ridiculous. Riyalians don’t worship the demons, they’re Triad all the way. Not therightTriad, but they’re not utter heathens like Mersaighans are.”
“Jespyr will try next,” the first voice said, cutting into the argument with ease. “Information gathering only with his people. We’re to be on hand for if he finds anywhere to direct our next efforts, but we can wait that out one at a time. You two can head back to our territory tomorrow and look after your herds for the rest of the week, then spell me unless I send for you early.”
“Thank the gods,” the second man groaned. “My brother is looking after the animals now that my wife’s on the verge of having our next baby, and the man can’t even count high enough to know when a mare is due. I’m sure we’ve lost one or two foals to his ignorance already.”
They turned to lighter complaints—wives and children, rubbish stallions and sick foals, all the simple things Deyvid expected from his people. Eventually, they went to sleep, and Deyvid was left to contemplate his next move to the sound of their snores.
