“My apologies.” Vorik turned forward again and pointed off at an oblique angle. “Would you be more at ease if my glances were in that direction?”
“No. Do you have a reason to believe there are more Kingdom troops out here searching for me? Or is it something else? Your lieutenant?”
If his concerns had to do with his people, she wasn’t positive Vorik would answer. Despite his claim that he wouldn’t hold secrets from her any longer, she didn’t know how honest to expect him to be when it came to the stormers. He would help her—she had no doubt about that—but if he noticed his people were up to something tangential, would he point it out?
“I think he’s on the island, yes,” Vorik said. “He may not be the only stormer here.”
A man with a wagon came up behind them, horses whuffing and probably eager to reach their destination and dinner. A lantern hanging beside the driver’s seat illuminated his broad face with a dark well-trimmed beard and mustache.
“You folks need a ride?” he asked. “Got some weather coming in.”
“No,” Fel said as Aunt Tibby said, “Yes.”
“No,” Fel repeated, glaring at her.
“Yes, we’dlovea ride,” Tibby told the driver, “and so would he.”
Fel glared at her.
“Especially his calves and hamstrings,” she added.
“You two married?” the driver asked dryly, stopping his horse team. He looked at Vorik and Syla as well, though the darkness and their hoods ensured he couldn’t see much about them. Or… could he? Syla sensed a hint of magic to the man. Was he one of her moon-marked relatives? If so, he was a distant one because she didn’t recognize him.
“I’d never marry someone who prefers wielding weapons to books,” Tibby said tartly, climbing into the back of the wagon without consulting Syla about whether or not they should.
“I think my aunt took over our incursion,” she murmured to Vorik.
Fel climbed in after Aunt Tibby, and Vorik grunted an agreement. “I’m surprised a random passerby is offering to help strangers when your kingdom has been embroiled in a war.”
“He may sense that we’re not that strange. Or at least I’m not.” Syla waved her hand, certain Vorik’s vision was keen enough to make out her moon-mark even in the dark. Her own night vision had been sharper of late, and she assumed that was a gift from Wreylith.
“Your people don’t consider you strange?” Vorik asked lightly once they were settled in the back of the wagon, resting on what felt like sacks of potatoes. “Would your allies agree?”
“No, but they’re strange too.”
The wagon lurched into motion, and Tibby slid off her potato sack and into Fel. He caught her and helped her settle in a less precarious spot. Was it Syla’s imagination, or did she lean voluntarily against him? And not shift away?
“I won’t disagree.” Vorik looked back along the highway again.
Syla wondered if he’d glimpsed Lieutenant Wise. If her memory was correct, the rider didn’t have the magic of a dragon bond, so she doubted Vorik wouldsensehis approach, but little escaped his notice. He’d spotted the snipers atop the bluff before anyone else had.
“You heading to Lyvor?” the driver called back.
“Yes, please,” Tibby said. “The glass district.”
The driver looked back. “Tabuvar’s Glassworks, by chance?”
Yes, the man must have sensed their moon-marks and be familiar with the marked glassmaker as well.
Though Tibby had seemingly taken charge, she looked at Syla before answering. Not certain they should share their exact destination?
“If you’re going by there, yes.” Syla doubted they had much to fear from the driver.
“You’ll want to be careful.” The man lifted his hand, then patted something on the seat next to him. Was that a crossbow? “Lord Fograth’s agents have been busy rounding up our kind, and Lyvor houses quite a few of us.”
“What do you meanrounding up?” Syla assumedtheir kindreferred to their birthmarks and shifted uneasily at the thought that Fograth was targeting her kin.
“Just that, my lady. We’ve witnessed enforcers that he sent surrounding moon-marked folk and carrying them away in wagons. The enforcers don’t give reasons why, and none of their captives have returned to talk about it. People who are many generations removed from the royal family are still being taken. At first, it was figured that Fograth wanted to make sure he had someone who could access the shielders, on account of him not being marked himself, but he’s made a lot of people disappear. We’re worried… he wants to get rid of us and may have already started. Like he doesn’t want any magic left in the Kingdom, anything that might be used against a mundane human such as himself.”
