The druid’s fingers tightened in his cloak. “Your vow was to the Vaich.”
“Aye,” said the holler. “And all that be his.”
“Then why should you…” The druid glanced up the hill where Jor and some other men were embattled in a lethal game of patch cards. His voice dropped to a hush. “Then one might question why such whispers? If you profess your fealty, it does not serve you to court division.”
The holler followed his gaze. “You’re every bit as keen as I thought. I dinnae court it, but things may happen all the same. The Vaich’s job is to prevent trouble ‘fore it comes. My job is to eliminate it once it does.” He nodded towards the dagger still warm in the druid’s hands. “Keep it close.”
“Alright,” the druid whispered.
“Then allow me to escort you back, my Queen.”
The druid returned to his tent, where he placed the golden dagger beneath his pillow.
He laid down, but sleep did not come. He tried to lose himself in the sounds of night; the lull of voices beyond the walls of hide. And for a time, he drifted, until a loudthump!startled him awake. His hand groped for the weapon.
All was still.
Another thump.
Breath clogged his throat. His fingers tightened on the hilt. Silently, he crept from his bedroll. He stood aside the flap, hesitating a moment before drawing back the hide with a snap.
There was a bark of frustration and the druid leapt back, his eyes settling on a familiar figure resting on his sword.
“Aard Rask?”
The older man grunted. “What did ye plan? To gut me with that flaying knife?”
The druid slipped it back into the folds of his nightgown, but did not relax his hold. “I thought there was trouble.”
Another grunt.
“There’ll be no trouble. Vaich’s tasked me to guard yerquarters.”
“You were sent to… guard me?” the druid questioned, his mind straying back to the Vaich’s violent encounter with Korv.
“Dinnae sound surprised. You’ve become ratherprecious,haven’t ye?”
The druid stared.
“A fool’s run. Twenty years of sweat and blood… undone by a soft-skinned fairling.”
The last words had been muttered, but the druid heard them all the same. In a different voice, to be called boyish might have been flattery. But coming from the lips of a man like that one, the druid knew where he stood in the elder’s hierarchy.
The Aard eyed him with something like suspicion, yet far less kind. The druid recognized that damning gaze; he had seen it on Othrik, and the Sun Matron—even the Vaich himself, once.
“Do I threaten you, my laird?” he asked.
Rask did not miss a breath. “There’s nothing more dangerous than a stupid man. And I ken what makes a man stupid.”
Chapter forty-three
The Road
“We ought to mind the ridge,” said Jor. “If there are bandits, we’ll not lay ourselves open to ambush.”
The Vaich’s council gathered in the wake of the raid to determine a route through the east. Vagabonds had wandered the borders for generations—men who swore their allegiance to no one and nothing and robbed on both sides of the mountains. It was said they camped in the hives of the stone peaks, thus Skyre never expected to meet any of them so far down the highlands.
Nacht was right.
