“You look ready to tumble,” Smuta said to my left, shaking me from my memories of last night.
“I had a bizarre dream that woke me last night,” I confessed, Newt plodding along a path beside the lake that showed signs of heavy use. We were close to the settlement of Lettle Curve.
“As did I! I dreamt I was chewing on sticks. Crunchy sticks. Damnedest dream I ever had. Do I look like a beaver?” she asked me, and I quickly shook my head. “Stupid dreams. Don’t make no sense at all.”
“No, they do not,” I rushed to agree. This was the most she had spoken to me since Jaculi joined us. I genuinely liked her and wished to keep her as a friend. “I dreamt I was falling from the moons last night.”
She looked over at me as we rode along, her pony keeping pace with mine as Asdren and the others brought up the rear. My tracking skills had me in the lead, but a child could have noted the torn-up path around the lake.
“Maybe it was the herbs you cooked those turnips in. I told you they tasted like arse.”
“Perhaps.” I doubted that the subtle prairie sage I had stewed the freshly dug field turnips in had caused our dreams. I caught a soft whiff of freshly hewn lumber. The pine scent of rough-cut boards was out of place. I brought Newt to a halt, my gaze darting about. The wind brought with it the distinct stink of boiled lace beetle, a protective finish rubbed into soft woods after being cut to protect the wood while in transit.
“Show yourself!” I barked as the others in my party came to a quick halt.
“Chirp, there ain’t nothing or no one for miles,” Asdren said from the rear.
“There is someone nearby who smells of a lumberyard.” I reached back for my bow and had an arrow nocked in seconds. A thin elven woman stepped out of a large tangle of brambles. The dwarves gasped in shock at her appearance. Her hood was down, revealing long, pointed ears and black hair shorn short on the side but worn long down the middle. Her skin was warm bronze with a black moth tattoo on her right cheek. She wore muted tans, browns, and dark greens to match the colors of the environment. Boots of soft kid leather and twin daggers on her hip. Her dark brown eyes flew to me after a quick assessment of the dwarves.
“Do you know the song that the moon willow sings to the dusk?” she asked me.
“Yes, it sings of the frost touching the elder woods.”
I lowered my bow and returned my arrow to its quiver.
She nodded. “Your nose is commendable. Follow me. We have things to discuss in private.” She gave the dwarves a fast glance, turned away and melted back into the blackberry brambles, disappearing from sight as if she were a mirage. Knowing who this person was, or more preciselywhatthis person was, I slid off Newt to find my traveling companions wearing expressions of distrust aimed at the blackberry bush.
“This is a contact from the king,” I explained, jerking my thumb at the brambles. “I will speak with her then return. Please rest the ponies and yourselves.”
Not a one of the Sable Legion said a word. They merely nodded, but Asdren’s blue eyes were narrowed. I spun from his assessing stare and melted into the brambles, low to the ground, following the small path my contact had created. She sat in the middle of the massive thorn bush, plucking small berries from the bushes. I knelt in front of her.
“Pine Outrider, I have a verbal message from our Shadow Master,” she confided, her lips now stained bluish-black from the berries. “I have been here for three days. You are late.”
“We ran into some trouble in the mines. Rockslides.” She stared hard at me. “Apologies for the wait.” She said nothing, just ate more berries. “Verbal is good. What does he say?” I rested on one knee, my elbow on the other.
“You are to ride onto Lettle Curve, where you will take possession of your horse. A contact that is trusted mentioned a half-elf privateer established in the harbor town of Quinn’s Quay. This could be the elf we seek.”
“Possibly, but I would assume there are many half-breeds sailing the Stormhold.”
“True, piracy is a calling for those unwanted in their own communities.” I could only nod in agreement while trying to pull up a person that I knew of in the elevated city of Quinn’s Quay. I had never traveled that far north before, so how I could know of someone there seemed questionable. “You are to ride hard for the town overlooking the Stormhold. Your horse and fresh provisions are waiting for you in Lettle Curve. I have a down payment for the dwarves whose services are no longer required.”
“Wait. No, I…” I rushed to whisper. She cocked a thin brow. “I hoped they might ride with me to find the elf in question.”
“No, they are not. They will slow you down.”
“But they’re…” I glanced back to where the dwarves waited but saw only brambles. My eyes left the thorny tangle to touch on my contact. “They’ve been good companions.”
“And will be well compensated for their escort through the tunnels. That is where their involvement ends.” I bit down on the inside of my cheek. She tipped her head, thick black hair tumbling into a wary eye. “Is there a reason you seem reluctant to carry out your instructions from the Shadow Master?”
“No. No, I just…” How could I explain to this spy that I had grown fond of the band of mercenaries? Especially fond of the leader. “I shall do as bidden by our master.”
“As it should be. You will leave Lettle Curve before the sun rises on the morrow. Ride hard and true, stop only long enough to rest your horse. The king and our master grow edgy and worrisome about this elf they seek. Rumors are filtering in that he may have docked, unloaded his stolen goods, and then set sail. If that is the case, we will have a much harder time finding him, so time is of the essence.” She passed me a small bag of coins, which I shoved into a leather pouch on my belt. “You should wear this as well.” She removed a slim copper ring fromher finger. “It has the mark of the moth clan on it. If you run into clans on the plains, that will give you safe passage.”
“I understand.” I slid the ring onto my pinkie finger and bowed my head to her. “May Sofriel, the wind god, bless you as you journey forth.”
Her dark eyes flared at the blessing of the tundra clans. “May he bless your mission as well,” she softly replied. “I am surprised you know of my people’s gods and our bless—”
A rustle behind us pulled our attention from each other. Jaculi appeared, wriggling through the tangled briars, golden eyes shining as he found me first.
