A day later, tired and disheveled from bathing in streams, they found the smuggler’s road.
It was a narrow, winding track, but it was in good repair. Wagons were definitely using it, to judge by the ruts.
“That’s a good thing and a bad thing,” Brenner said, scratching at his beard stubble. “Where there are wagons, there are bandits, particularly up here, where there’s no patrols. Still, it’s the lean endof the season. The fat merchants haven’t started coming through yet, and most of the bandits are probably still wintering over.”
“That’s what I’m counting on,” said Slate. She started to kick her horse forward.
Caliban’s hand on the reins stopped her.
The paladin searched her face, brown eyes much too sharp. “You were always planning on taking this road,” he said.
Slate saw no point in denying it. “Yes.”
“That’s not what you told the Captain.”
She rolled her eyes. “Your fine captain held me down and inked a murderous tattoo on me. Forgive me if telling him the exact truth about our itinerary wasn’t foremost in my mi—ah!”
She slapped her arm. The tattoo in question, which had just bit her, eased its grip.
“I didn’t betray anyone,” she said, as much to the ink as to the man in front of her. “I haven’t done anything to jeopardize the mission. In fact, this was the smartest thing I could have done. If there’s spies in the Dowager’s palace, now they won’t know where to look for us.”
“You lied to me. You lied to all of us. Why?”
“Because three can keep a secret if two of them are dead!” she snapped.
He looked disgusted. More than that, he looked disappointed. Slate hadn’t experienced that in years. She hadn’t missed the sensation.
“They’ll notice when we don’t show up at the front,” said Caliban. “They’ll be expecting us. They’ll assume we’re dead.”
“Then think how happy everyone will be when we turn up alive!”
He didn’t take the bait. He stood there, looking down at her, his gaze cool and judgmental and remote.
“If you’d been killed, the three of us would have just walked into the war zone,” said Caliban. “Thinking that was the best way.”
“Yeah, well.” Slate shrugged. “I warned you that was suicide, didn’t I?”
He turned away. His lips were set. She could not shake the feeling that she’d let him down, and that was stupid, because she didn’t owe him anything, did she?
You got him out of his nice safe cell …
He ought to be damn grateful, then.
“Don’t pat yourself on the back too hard, darlin’,” said Brenner. “I’d been thinking there was supposed to be a smuggler’s road. And that bandits are easier to deal with than monsters.”
“See, there you go,” said Slate to Caliban’s back. “Besides, maybe this way we can find out what happened to the last group the Captain sent out. According to that last commander, they actually did go up into the hills.” Which had had nothing to do with why she’d chosen this road, but it was convenient, anyway.
“The group that no one’s heard from and is presumed dead?” said Caliban.
“That’s them, yep.”
The line of his shoulders did not indicate that this made him feel any better.
“Could they have been killed by bandits?” asked Learned Edmund.
Brenner set off down the road. “Nah. Mark my words—anyone out on the roads this early is probably either out of money, or had gone stir crazy and is looking for excitement, and eitherway, there aren’t likely to be many of them.”
Actually, there were about eight of them.
