Free Shadows by E. C. Blake Page B

City.”
    Chell raised an eyebrow. “Ah,” he said. “You have some influence over these ‘bandits.’ Useful.”
    Edrik turned away without replying. “Let’s move out.”
    They picked their way down the slope, and for the rest of that day and the next day (
the tenth of Winterwhite
, Mara thought) rode through the woods along the east side of the valley, without seeing anyone or, they hoped, being seen. At nightfall they stopped their travel only long enough for a cold, cheerless supper and to rest the horses, then pressed on. As Edrik had warned, the trees petered out. In the moonlight, stubble-covered fields stretched away in front of them, broken only by dark lines of hedges or stone fences. Edrik glanced up at the star-strewn sky. “Bad luck it’s so clear,” he said. “Still, it’s unlikely anyone will be abroad. It’s a cold night.”
    Mara had to agree with that. The temperature had dropped again in the wake of the one-day thaw, and her nose felt like a lump of ice glued to her face. She kept reminding herself not to lick her burning, chapped lips—and then licked them anyway.
    Edrik led them a little farther to the left, until they intersected one of the stone fences. In its insubstantial shadow—it was only about four feet high—they rode out of the forest.
    They moved from fence line to hedge line, zigzagging back and forth through the fields, like ghosts in the night. But though they seemed to be the only humans abroad, their horses weren’t the only animals. Trouble came as they skirted a village. Edrik led them into a stand of woods . . . but the trees ended suddenly, and without warning they emerged into a farmyard. In the moonlight Mara glimpsed a tidy stone hut, a thatched roof, a low fence, a cowshed . . . and then a huge black dog exploded from the shadows, white teeth gleaming as it charged toward the horses, deep, bone-shaking barks shattering the still of the night.
    â€œBack!” Edrik cried, and wheeled his horse and galloped back into the trees. Chell followed, Keltan turned with a little more difficulty and did the same . . . and Mara, somehow, between the onrushing dog, the skittish horse, her own pounding heart and her own inexperience, suddenly found herself sliding sideways in the saddle . . . and then fell heavily to the ground, the impact knocking the breath from her. As she lay trying desperately to draw air into her lungs, the horse reared and galloped after its stable mates . . .
    ...and the black dog reached her and stood slavering over her, drool dripping from its fanged, snarling mouth.

SIX
    Warm Bed, Cold Steel
    â€œS TAFIN! HEEL!” a voice shouted. The dog growled once more at Mara, then turned and trotted back to the owner of the voice, just emerging from the cottage. Mara turned her head and saw a big man wearing an improbable patchwork robe lumbering toward her, a stout wooden cudgel in one hand. “What have you got, boy?” he said as the huge dog, so terrifying to Mara a moment before, romped around him like a puppy.
    The man came closer. Mara, still struggling to breathe, couldn’t say a word. He bent over. “Why, it’s a girl!” he said in astonishment. His hand went to his unMasked face. “And me without . . . girl, what on earth are you doing out in the middle of the night?”
    â€œI . . .” Mara began. “I . . .” It was no use. She still didn’t have the air.
    â€œYou’d best come inside,” the man said. “Filia!” he called over his shoulder. “It’s a girl! I think she’s hurt!”
    â€œA girl!” A woman’s voice came back. “Well, bring her in, Jess, you big lump. Let me get a look at her.”
    Jess tossed aside the club, leaned over, and picked Mara up as though she weighed no more than a baby. He carried her toward