“What do you suggest?”
“False trail.” James shifted, wincing, and Ahnna couldn’t help but wonder what injuries lurked beneath his clothes. “We move at speed to one of the villages and trade the horses for a small boat. But rather than heading downstream directly, we hide in deep cover until they pass us by. Then we head to the coast on foot until we can secure new mounts. Carlo and his men will be looking ahead on the rivers, not behind on the roads, which means we can make strategic choices rather than desperate ones.”
Ahnna ground her teeth, grief gathering in her stomach as she stroked her horse’s neck. Dippy’s fur had grown thicker, and she liked how fuzzy he looked.
“I know you don’t want to give Dippy up,” James said softly. “Idon’t want to give Maven up either. But I also don’t want to run them to death to escape, and going any slower will see us caught. They’re valuable mounts—whoever we trade with will likely sell them to some Amaridian lord and they’ll grow fat as saddle horses in some coastal vineyard. A good life.”
It was a smart plan, Ahnna knew that. Yet her heart didn’t care much for smart plans, and agreeing to this hurt. “I know. He’s probably better off away from me, anyway.”
Not waiting for James’s response, Ahnna nudged her horse into a canter, Maven following at his heels.
There was peace in having her focus be on staying astride. With a broken arm, she couldn’t hold on to Dippy’s mane for balance, and each jarring impact on the rough terrain sent stabs of pain through the break. The Amaridians had put care into setting the bone, but the ferocity of the pain caused her to suspect that she’d done more damage in the fight to flee the camp. She could fight left-handed, but Carlo’s soldiers were angry and experienced, and they’d want revenge for what she’d done to them. Speed was of the essence.
The trail widened into a proper road as they moved through the foothills, and the river running alongside it grew as well, fed by dozens of tributaries filled with melted snow.
“I see chimney smoke ahead!” James called, the first thing he’d said to her in hours. “You do the talking. They’ll be put off by my accent.”
“You could fake being something you’re not. Since you’re so good at that.”
He cast his eyes skyward. “Keep this up, Princess, and you’ll make Carlo’s job easier.”
“Kiss my ass.”
“Bend over.”
Ahnna’s face burned hot, but she bit down on her retort. “Give me your reins and pretend to be hurt.”
“Not hard. I had my ass kicked for days because you couldn’t be bothered to share your plan.”
“If you are looking for sympathy, you’ll be waiting a long time.”
James only smiled and handed over Maven’s reins, then dutifully slumped over the mare’s neck.
Ahnna headed toward the grouping of perhaps ten structures. Children paused in their playing to watch them pass, and Ahnna smiled to ease their fears as she headed to the small wharf alongside the river. Two older men sat on rough benches sewing fishing lures, neither pausing in their task as she slid off Dippy’s side and approached.
“Good afternoon.” She leaned into her Ithicanian accent, which most would mistake for Maridrinian. “I’m hoping you might be able to aid us. We were accosted by bandits in the mountains. Our companions were killed, our supplies stolen, and my”—she looked at James—“servantwas badly injured. We need to make it back to the coast for aid, but he will not make it on horseback. Do you have a boat and supplies we can trade our—” Her throat tightened and she swallowed hard, her anger at James having caused her to briefly forget what she’d be giving up in this moment. “—our horses for?”
One of the men set aside a finished lure, and then picked up another set of threads and feathers, starting a new one. All while slowly looking Ahnna up and down. “What’s a Maridrinian and a”—he squinted at James—“godless Cardiffian doing in the Blackreaches?”
“We heard that the Harendellians had formed an alliance with Cardiff,” Ahnna answered. “We hoped to find opportunities to trade north.”
The old man pursed his lips, fingers moving rapidly as he made the lure entirely by feel. “That don’t sound right, girl. The Harendellians like those amber-eyed witches even less than they like us. Sounds like false news. It’s no wonder they beat you bloody and sent you back. You a witch too?”
Of course they wouldn’t know. Not up here in the middle of nowhere. “I’m not a witch. Are you able to trade?” James groaned from where he was slumped over Maven’s neck. “I need to get him to a physician.”
Part of her, a big part of her, hoped that the man would say no.That he wouldn’t want to give up a vessel because his business was fish, not horses. If he refused to trade, she could tell James to piss off to the Lowlands while she made her own way. But the old man looked Dippy up and down, then Maven, and turned to his silent companion. “You ever fix that old rowboat?”
“Which one?”
“The one with the leak.”
This didn’t sound promising.
“Ain’t got a boat with a leak.”
The first old man made a sour face. “Ya do. I know you do, because you were complaining about it. But then you stopped complaining.”
“Because I fixed it.”
