Michel froze, hearing Renault’s words. He couldn’tloseKashgar. That would decimate the entire connection. “I’m going to meet with Malik myself,” he announced without another thought. “We’re going right now.” He started grabbing at supplies. “I’ll convince him.”
“You can’t—” Renault began.
“Give me a day. You owe me that.”
Renault held out his hands to the camp. “Who’s going, Michel?”
Michel looked up to see the glances between the men, and he understood the voices of their thoughts. They would not accompany Michel, not many of them at least. This had become dangerous and complicated work, and many of them were just tradesmen. There was no benefit in helping Michel to protect Eve and secure a line of cashmere.
“Renault, get me ten guards,” Michel demanded, turning to his hasty preparation. “And whoever else is brave enough to join us. We’ll be up to see Malik and back by nightfall.”
“I think you’re on a fool’s errand,” Renault sighed. “But alright. I’ll get you the guards.”
“We’ll be ready to leave in an hour.” He nodded to Eve. “Let’s go.”
ChapterTwenty-Nine
Ganbold. Warrior. Hunter.
He watched as the boy tore through the trees. Ganbold stood up with excited anticipation.
“They’re moving,” the boy gasped. “Northeast. To a trapper’s cottage. We’ll be very few.”
“I know the cottage,” he affirmed, giving one sharp nod. “I passed the land.”
“There is a stream,” the boy rasped, still catching his breath. “I can get her to follow me. Michel will follow her.”
“Chi bol baatar,” Ganbold acknowledged. “You are a warrior.”
The boy stared and then gave a satisfied smile.
“Go, now,” Ganbold ordered.
The boy nodded, scampering off.
Ganbold stood, feet spread, hands fisted at his hips. He heard the voices of the ancestors singing for him. He thought of returning to his tribe with the shame of the woman and the head of the Frenchman. Perhaps he would make her carry it.
And then, Ganbold would be given his bride. He would hold her once more.
“I will be ready,” Ganbold said to himself as he watched the horizon.
A few hours later, they traveled the road to Malik’s home. Eve had learned that Malik was tribal, so she convinced Michel to let her come. She could help him make the deal, she was sure of it. The company had been reduced to the bare minimum. Michel, Eve, the few guards Michel had been able to gather, and Terence, who insisted he not be left back with the others. Renault had given Michel specific instructions on where to find the hermit. They traveled through a sparse sweetgum tree forest to reach the cottage. The tall sweetgums, mixed with flowering pistachio trees and wineberry bushes, created a shady green trail, sweet with the scent of flower buds.
Eve could see that Michel moved on pure anger and desperation at this point, insulted and humbled. All his plans had collapsed. She wished she could ease him, that she could somehow use her influence as the Khan’s daughter to ensure Michel’s success, but out here, this far from her home, she was not sure if she had value in that way. Still, she had her own charisma, and Michel’s now too. Together, how could Malik deny the connection?
They were coming up to a slope which dipped down into a stream that thrashed through the rocks. Terence had been whining that he needed to relieve himself for some time. Finally, Michel threw his hands up.
He pulled the reins on his horse. “Take your rest,” he called to the party. “Five minutes!”
Michel came over and helped Eve down off her horse, while Terence scampered down to the stream. “I’ll fill the water sacks,” she said, pulling them from the saddlebags.
She stepped carefully down the slope to reach the stream. Terence had already gone up aways. “Terence,” she called. “Finish up, then stay where I can see you.”
She sank the containers into the cold water. She looked back over her shoulder to see the boy wandering down the stream.
On the trail above her, Michel spoke with one of the guards as he watched her, instructing the man to go up ahead to check for problems.
Down the way, Terence was still slipping along with the stream. Eve saw his back as he wove into the trees, disappearing. “Terence!” she called again, annoyed that he was dawdling.
