Free Messenger’s Legacy by Peter V. Brett Page A

it’s not odd for a child who’s lost a friend to think they see them when they don’t.’
    ‘Night, I do that now,’ Elissa said. ‘Could’ve sworn I saw Cob on the street in Angiers last week.’
    They circled the dump, riding around the junk piles and garbage mounds, getting the lay of the land.
    There was vegetation everywhere. Mostly weeds, but also a surprising number of useful plants. At first glance it appeared chaotic, but by the third pass, Ragen began to think it no coincidence. He slipped from the saddle, inspecting the plants.
    Elissa followed, squatting to part the fronds so the stalks were visible down to the damp soil. ‘They’ve been cultivated.’
    Ragen stood. ‘Ay, but that doesn’t mean Briar did it. Could have been the refuse collectors or their families. Soil’s good here, if you can stand the smell.’ They returned to their saddles, circling the area again.
    There was a cliff with worn wagon ruts leading to its edge, the place where the rot waste was dumped. The rest of the area was filled with more solid trash, piled into small mountains by generations of waste. At the edge of this was the bog, stretching on for miles into thick and forbidding fog.
    ‘We’ve never really discussed what we’re going to do if we find him,’ Elissa said.
    ‘Do you have to ask? We’ll take him back to Miln with us.’ Ragen smiled. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time I brought home a stray.’
    ‘What if he doesn’t remember you?’ Elissa asked. ‘What if he doesn’t want to go?’
    Ragen shrugged. ‘Then we drag him for his own good. Can’t spend his life living like an animal in the bog.’
    There was a rustle in the weeds off to one side, and both of them pulled up short, staring in the direction of the sound. A hogroot patch. The stalks still shook slightly, though there was no breeze.
    ‘Briar?’ Ragen called loudly. ‘That you, boy?’
    There was no response. The stalks settled back in place. But something didn’t feel right, and Ragen nudged his horse into the weeds for a closer look.
    He was beginning to think he’d imagined the whole thing when there was an explosion of movement as something burst from concealment, a dark blur passing so close his mare gave a great whinny and stood on her hindquarters, kicking the air. By the time Ragen managed to calm her, whatever it was had fled.
    ‘You see that?’ Ragen demanded, leaping the horse out of the weed patch. Without waiting for an answer he kicked and rode up one of the more solid mounds of trash, standing in his stirrups for a better vantage.
    Elissa was beside him in a moment. ‘I only caught a glimpse, but it was too big to be a rabbit, too small for a nightwolf. Saw it dart across the road into the weeds there.’ She pointed.
    Ragen could see where the weeds were trampled, his tracker’s eye following the trail as easily as he found markers on an overgrown Messenger Way. Whatever it was had darted from cover to cover, heading straight for the bog. The fog was still stirring where the thing had disappeared.
    Ragen slipped from the saddle, taking his night satchel, spear and shield. ‘Stake the horses and put up circles. I’ll be back before dark.’
    Elissa pointed to the satchel. ‘If you’ll be back before dark, why are you taking your weapons and portable circle?’
    ‘Common sense,’ Ragen said.
    Elissa crossed her arms.
    Ragen sighed. ‘I’ll leave markers. Circle the horses and catch up. We’ve only got a few hours of sunlight left.’

    Ragen smacked another mosquito, biting down the curse on his lips, lest he give away their position with his shout. The trail had not been easy to find, but their quarry was in a hurry, and the muck of the bog left undeniable prints. The shoes had mismatched treads, but they were consistent with a teenage boy.
    It still wasn’t proof, but Ragen wanted to believe.
    ‘I’ll admit I thought Messengering glamorous from the warmth of our manse,’ Elissa slapped a mosquito drinking