Page 10 of The Summer Pass

“They are,” said Shan. “Those soldiers we met on the road, remember?”

“They were going in the opposite direction, and it was only a small troop.”

“A scouting party on their way back to camp,” said Lill. “The rest of the army will be following.” Maybe in reprisal for that raid a week ago, or maybe the army had already been on its way. Certainly the raid had not helped.

“Will that work?” Zaraz gestured down at the river. “Taking down the bridge like that—will it stop them?”

Lill shook his head. “It won’t even slow them down.”

Chapter 4

The Boar of Hawakhurta

They travelled down into the Tawa Valley that first week, heading for the stronghold of Ara Tawa. After they left Tawakhura, they camped, pitching tents every night, and so moved at a snail’s pace. But it felt leisurely, like a holiday. The weather was beautiful, the land open and pleasantly green, different enough from the mountains to feel like a refreshing change after three years, although Vanu would not have wanted to live down here all the time.

The Tawa River formed the current border of the Zashian king’s lands. They stuck to the north side of the river, which was still Hawakhaba territory. The lowland villages on the southern bank were not hostile, though. It was a region of small-scale trade and compromise, not raiding, a place where people spoke two or three languages for ease of doing business, and marriages that spanned the river were not uncommon.

At least that was how Vanu remembered it. But as they made their slow way down out of the hills into the valley itself, they all quickly noticed that something was different.

“People seem scared of us,” Atari observed after they passed outside one village.

She had hit on it, exactly. Vanu remembered travelling through this valley before and the people being friendly. It was farmland, and there were always men, women, and children in the fields, tending flocks and planting and harvesting things, who would wave to travellers or run over to ask questions. He had of course been popular in this valley—on both sides of the river—for driving out the Order of the Sworn Defenders when he was seventeen. But he thought the friendliness was a trait of the place and the people, quite apart from him. And there was something dampening it now.

Then after another day’s ride, the wind carried a faint scent of burning. None of them spoke of it while they were on the road, but all of them noticed it, Vanu could tell. And eventually they could see the source: blackened fields and buildings in the distance on the south shore of the river. Their mood was grim when they stopped for the night.

They had heard no news that day, spoken to no travellers or locals who might have heard what happened on the southern shore, so as they made camp, Vanu sent Padunu to the nearest settlement, a small cluster of houses in the distance, to find out what he could.

They were a large group by this time: Vanu and his household; the headman of Dukka and his hearthmen; the lord of Tawakhura and his retinue, along with new recruits from Sakka and others they had picked up on the road. Most were on horseback, some walking, some women and children riding in the wagons with the tents and provisions. Otoni had started out riding, but resorted to a wagon the day before, either because the stage of her pregnancy made it more comfortable, or, as Vanu thought more likely, because the lord of Tawakhura’s wife had badgered her into it.

They had picked up a tail outside of Tawakhura: three riders travelling a cautious—but not cautious enough—distance behind them. Vanu could not be certain, but he thought one of them was a woman. They gave themselves away by stopping at the same time as Vanu’s party every evening, when they could easily have pressed on, being a smaller party, and passed them. Vanu had not mentioned them to anyone, though surely he could not have been the only one to notice them.

Tirtu sighed as he sat down next to Vanu by the fire. “Did you ever imagine you’d miss Umtúshta, my lord?”

Vanu looked at him. Tirtu was nursing a cup of wine, and Vanu wished he had one himself, not so much for the effect of the wine or even the taste, but because you should have a cup of wine in your hands as you sat by the fire in the evening on campaign. He felt suddenly angry that he had to deny himself that.

“Yes,” he said aloud. “Knew I’d miss it.”

“Oh.” Tirtu looked taken aback. “I guess … there were good moments there.” He took a swallow of wine. “A lot of good moments. I see that now—guess I sort of let them slip by while they were happening.” His face twisted with some complicated emotion. “I kept harping on getting out, wanting to go back to the old days. I thought it would feel better, being out. Being free.”

We were free when we were in there, Vanu thought. Every so often he felt an awful dizziness, an urge to hide, to creep in a hole like he imagined a wounded animal must feel. Thinking about the distance he had travelled from Umtúshta could send him into a panic sometimes, his heart racing, palms sweating. It was absolutely vital that no one find out about that. They would think he was unfit to lead. Maybe he was.

“Lonely there, sometimes,” he offered. That was true.

Tirtu nodded. “I felt that sorely myself, until … ” He cleared his throat.

Vanu waited for him to say more, and he didn’t.

“How’s Gurti?” Vanu asked finally.

“I doubt I know any better than you, my lord. She and I haven’t … since Faru was wounded … I didn’t think it was right.”

“You didn’t think … ?”

“Yeah. That was what caused the, uh—dunno if you’d call it a quarrel or what. She came over one night, after he was back in the great house but still laid up, and she wanted to fuck. You wouldn’t believe how frank she can be when she wants it, my lord—I’ve never⁠—”

Vanu held up a hand. “She may be frank—you don’t need to be. She’s a woman under my protection—won’t have her dishonoured.”

“No, my lord, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean … I like that about her.” He looked shifty, as if he was admitting something he’d never told Gurti. “Well, you see, it was just I felt bad about it, with her husband lying injured up at the house—I was surprised she’d think of such a thing, and I guess I said so, and she didn’t get angry with me or anything, but—maybe she did get angry, or … maybe I made her feel ashamed or something. She’s hardly said two words to me since then.”