Chapter 11

“There is nothing we can do for her,” Gilly tried to explain to a distraught Porter. “Her fate was decided before you arrived, and nothing will change it now. If the Palace Guard discovers her, she may live but her family dies. If the priesthood finds her first, they will all die. Fate will decide.”

Porter had donned his clean clothes once he realized they were resting in the corner of his bedroom waiting for him. After Kanji left on her errand, he could not sit still, and he poked and probed every corner of the cottage except for the bathroom. He repacked his trail bags and pulled out his whet stone.

When Gilly returned, guided and guarded by the wastecat, the healer found him sitting at the table sharpening his sword in careful, calculated strokes. She would not comprehend that Porter found great solace in counting the strokes as he worked on the edges. He looked as if he was on task rather than just barely holding his wits together.

She gave him a hug and the warmth just flowed through his veins. He sighed with great relief and told her of his near tragedy. As Gilly examined the needle and the amber liquid which dripped from it, Porter’s fears rebounded, leaping off the interior walls of his skull.

He asked about the serving girl, almost pleading that someone help her. Gilly listened but offered no redeeming hope. With the young mage’s pronouncement of Doina’s doom, Gilly snatched up the needle and ran for the doorway. She left with a promise to return at dawn and a suggestion that he pack whatever he wanted to take out of this beautiful deadly trap.

Porter tried to hide the regret on his face but somewhere during his silent protest over an empty doorway, he began to suspect that all of them were pawns in a much larger, dangerous game. Porter left Kanji to guard the cottage as he lay down again to try to get some sleep, especially if he was fleeing tomorrow. Sleep smothered him even though he was not expecting it.

Kanji brusquely roused him as Gilly ran back into his cottage. The sky was still dark and quiet lay like a blanket across the garden. Porter grabbed his trail bag and weapons, glad to be finally moving. The three of them slipped through the trees and bushes silently, hugging the wall of the palace as they went. They came to an abrupt halt before the plain back wall of a building. From the smell wafting from the vented roof, Porter guessed they had reached the royal stable.

A back door was ajar. Gilly led them inside the tool shed where the shovels and rakes for cleaning the stalls were kept. Already Porter wanted to puke at the smell, and he could only imagine what Kanji’s sensitive nose must be experiencing. They threaded their way down a hallway, ducking out another side door into an open area. Gilly called out softly and was answered. They ran to the blacker pools between the palace wall and another building where they found a shrouded figure holding two saddled hamox. Porter secured his bags behind the saddle and climbed aboard his mount. Gilly, being shorter, took a moment more to mount.

Gilly issued a “thanks” as the figure disappeared back into the darkness. The false dawn was pinking the horizon when they approach a back gate manned by two Palace Guards. With a password, the guards opened the gate and the three slipped out into a city back street without comment. They turned their hamox right and headed towards the next thoroughfare. As they stepped into the intersection, they found themselves surrounded by half a dozen mounted soldiers with swords drawn. Kanji did not react, but Porter did not think to look at her.

“Well, well, if it isn’t our spaceman already eloping with a pretty maiden,” spoke a familiar voice.

“Harlan?” Porter queried the closest mount.

“Who else?” Harlan chuckled.

The captain gave a small grunt. “We can have a grand reunion later. We move out now with two columns on either side of the street. Stay out of the middle and remain on guard. We’ve already passed two dead bodies; let us not add to the count. Porter, you keep that wastecat to the shadows as well.”

They picked their way to another city gate where Captain Tyver gave a short series of whistles. The gates silently eased outward and the squad trotted onto a narrow road squeezed between open fields. The sky filled with yellows, reds, and oranges as the sun made ready to pop above the horizon. The captain set a ground eating pace. They quickly moved off of well-trod road, turning north towards a different range of mountains that were shrouded in early morning mist. There was no talking, only an unyielding forward motion.

At noon with the sun blazing overhead, the captain finally called for a halt and a brief rest. Everyone dismounted and reached for their provisions to take a swallow and a bite of trail bread, except for Porter who had left with no provisions.

“Here,” Gilly said and she handed him a wrapped bread and water skein.

Porter had taken his brain offline and simply followed the rump in front of him until they dismounted. The questions bubbled at his lips, and they came out as a series of one word after disconnected word until he shook his head with his own befuddlement.

Harlan came to his rescue, “Last night Commander Galtiel ordered a large action for the palace guard. We were ordered to stay in our assigned quarters with our weapons at the ready. We were told nothing of what was happening; even so, we suspected a palace coup.”

“Sergeant, stick to the facts and avoid speculations,” Captain Tyver said.

“In the first watch of the morning, a Blue Hand came to the door and told us there had been murders and assassinations in and around the palace. He said that the Blue Hand was under attack and the streets were unsafe. He requested of us to escort some of their people out of the city and to the northern mountains. Seeing that the present situation was unhealthy for any who were within the palace, the captain decided that we needed to return to our posting immediately. As instructed, we picked up our guests at the northwest corner of the palace wall. Who would have thought it would be you, Porter?”

“The priests sent an assassin into my quarters last night,” Porter acknowledged. “She almost succeeded.”

“I’m not surprised,” Captain Tyver said. “Before we remount and continue, please introduce your friend, Mr. Porter.

“Captain Tyver of the Border Patrol, may I present Gilly of the Blue Hand, healer and assistant to the High Mage. Gilly, may I introduce Captain Tyver.”

“Wow, she’s pretty!” Harlan blurted out.

Leeza jabbed Harlan in the ribs and whispered loudly for him to mind his manners. He blushed all sorts of colors, yet Porter puffed with pride. Others thought Gilly was pretty. He wondered when they would get to kiss again. Then he kicked himself for even thinking such thoughts when they were fleeing for their lives.

“Mount up!” the captain said. “We will assume that we are under pursuit until we are proven wrong. We couldn’t disguise a wastecat leaving the city. Tilden, you will take the rear guard. Leeza, you are in front with me, and Sergeant, you will rotate our guests and keep them separated from roving eyes in the fields. Let us ride.”

The captain kept them far from any buildings and took long detours around villages. Porter would look back occasionally, but he saw no evidence of pursuit. He sent out tendrils of Blue and found no contact with other people either. Nonetheless, he was a novice and was not sure he would recognize pursuit until it was nearly on top of him. He wanted to talk to Gilly, but she was kept away from him for their safety. The orders to move quietly were still in place. Kanji trotted alongside but did not disappear as often into the growth as she had when first they traveled to the city.

As the light began to leak out of the sky, the captain turned the squad into a copse of ugly looking trees that had fungi of a sickly, yellowish purple growing on their trunks. Kanji bounded ahead and dived into the trees. There was a short screech and then the flapping of many wings in the opposite direction.

“Someone got their dinner before I did,” Harlan groused with mock envy.

“Be that as it may, the cat did us the favor of clearing nasties out the bush for us,” the captain said. “Nonetheless, when we dismount you will scour the immediate area for unfriendly creatures. There will be no fire and no hunting; we will eat travel rations tonight. We will have two on watch through the night as well.”

Captain Tyver called over his two guests and they ate their rations in silence. When they were done, Gilly and the captain exchanged pleasantries like they were allies who had never met before. Porter remained quiet and followed the conversation with rapt attention. Finally, the conversation turned to planning.

The captain laid out his thinking. “If we keep up this pace, we will reach the foothills of the Gherea Mountains in two weeks. Somewhere in the foothills we should split up; I will take my squad east back to the forests that edge the Waste. You two shall continue to Sky House where you will both be safe.”

Porter saw a glaring hole in the plan, “How long will it take us to get to Sky House from the foothills?”

Gilly answered, “Five to seven days.”

“How will we protect ourselves during that time?”

The captain shook his head. “We will do our best to draw away any pursuit, convincing them to follow us by obscuring your tracks. Sky House is hidden from all but the Blue Hand, which keeps a watch on the nearby forest. My squad couldn’t escort you there even if it was a good plan. Your best chance to get there safely is the two of you alone. You have a generous amount of Blue, Porter, skills in sword and bow, and an incredible fighting wastecat. Use your head and you will make it.”