Aspar turned at Leshya's soft approach. Her violet eyes peered at him from beneath her broad-brimmed hat.

"You're all right?" she lilted.

"No worse than I was this morning," he replied. "Aside from the indignity of being bait."

She shrugged. "Should have thought of that before you went and got your leg broken."

She walked over to the pit, and Aspar limped after her to see.

It didn't know it was dead yet. Its flanks were still heaving, and the hind legs twitching. But the head was cracked like an egg, and Aspar didn't imagine it would breathe much longer.

"What in Grim's name do we call that?" he grunted.

"I remember stories about something like this," she said. "I think it was called a mhertyesvher. mhertyesvher."

"That the Skaslos name for it?"

"I couldn't p.r.o.nounce the Skaslos name for it," she replied.

"Notwithstandin' that you are one," he said.

"I was born in this shape, with this tongue," she said. "I've never heard the language of the Skasloi. I've told you that."

"Yah," Aspar a.s.sented. "You've told me." He looked back at the dying beast and rubbed the stubble on his chin. "Well," he mused, "I think it's a manticore."

"As good a name as any," she said. "Now, why don't we go rest."

"I'm not tired," Aspar lied.

"Well, there's no reason to stay here. It'll be days before the poison clears out, even if it rains."

"Yah," Aspar agreed.

"Come on, then."

He slung the bow on his back and looked around for his crutch, only to find Leshya holding it out for him. He took it silently, and they began walking back through the trees. It got harder when the slope turned upward, and they followed a little switchback trail up an ever-steepening way. At last it opened onto a rocky ridge that gave a good view of the scatters of forest and meadow below. A deep ravine fell from the other side of the crest, and across that, white-capped mountains rose against the turquoise sky. The western horizon was also bounded in peaks. With their back to the chasm and a view for leagues in every other direction, it was here they usually spotted the monsters when they came; that was why Leshya had picked the spot to build the shelter. It had started as a lean-to made of branches, but now it was a comfortable little four-post house with birch-bark roof.

Aspar didn't remember the building of it; he'd been deep in the land of Black Mary, in and out of a fever that jumbled three months into a haze of images and pain. When it was finally gone, it left him so weak that even without a broken leg he couldn't have walked. Leshya had tended him, built traps, fought the monsters that appeared more and more frequently.

The climb left him winded, and he sat on a log, looking out over the valley below.

"It's time to go," he said.

"You aren't ready to travel," Leshya said, poking the banking of the morning's fire, looking for embers.

"I'm ready," he said.

"I don't think so."

"You came after me with your st.i.tching still wet," Aspar said. "I'm in better shape than that."

"You're wheezing from a little walk," the Sefry pointed out. "That ever been the case before?"

"I've never been flat on my back for four months," Aspar replied, "but I can't spare any more time."

She smiled, slightly. "Are you that much in love with her?"

"None of your business," he said.

"Us leaving now could get us both killed. Makes it my business."

"I want to find Winna and Ehawk, yes. But there's more to it. I have duties."

"To whom? To that girl-queen Anne? You've no idea whether she's alive or not. Or who sits the throne of Crotheny. Aspar, the Briar King is dead. There's nothing left to check the sedhmhari. There are more of them every day."

"Yah. And sitting here killing them one at a time won't help."

"What do you think will?"

"I don't know. I've thought I might go back to where he was sleeping, find something."

"In the Mountains of the Hare? That's twenty leagues from here as the eagle goes, and we aren't eagles." Her eyes slitted. "Do you have some reason to think you should go there?"

"No."

"No?" She sighed. "I know you, Aspar White. You just want to die fighting for the King's Forest. This one here isn't good enough."

"It's not-" He stopped. Not mine, Not mine, he finished silently, imagining the great ironoaks of his youth rotting into putrid jelly, the bright streams clogged with death, the ferny glens choked in black thorn. Did he really want to see that? he finished silently, imagining the great ironoaks of his youth rotting into putrid jelly, the bright streams clogged with death, the ferny glens choked in black thorn. Did he really want to see that?

"You came to find me," he said, "all those months ago. You talked about having a duty other Sefry have abandoned. What is it?"

She had found some coals and was coaxing them to life and adding tinder from a pile near the pit, stirring up the scent of hickory and juniper. "I don't know," she said. "I don't know if I can tell you that."

"I already know what you and your kind really are. After that, what secret is worth keeping?"

"I told you, I'm not sure. I'm trying to maun it out."

"Well, fine; find me when you do. I'm going now."

"You don't even know where we are," Leshya said.

"Well, I reckon if I head south, I'll eventually come across someplace I know," he replied.

"We're lucky I remembered this place," she said. "Otherwise they would have caught us long ago."

"Who? Fend?"

"And his people."

"Your people."

She acknowledged that with a bow of her head.

"Well, I'm sure they've stopped looking by now," he replied.

"I doubt that," she said. "You were with the Briar King when he died. He might have told you something."

"What do you mean? So far as I know, he can't speak."

"That doesn't mean he didn't tell you something."

Aspar remembered the shocking rush of visions he'd had as the Briar King died.

"Yah," he said. "But if he told me anything, I don't know what it was."

"Yet."

"Sceat," he muttered.

"Aspar, you could be the most important man in the world right now. You might be the only one who can stop what's happening-save the King's Forest, if that's the only thing that means anything to you."

"Is that why we're still here? You're hopin' I'll have some sainty vision?"

"I can't think of any other hope to cling to. It's why I've kept you safe."

He looked at her. "That you have," he said. "And I'm grateful. But there's no need for you to take my part anymore. I'm strong enough now."

"You aren't, and you know it."

"I won't get stronger sittin' about here," he said. "And you know that. Now, if you think I'm so important, I reckon you can come with me. But I am am going." going."

She had a fire now. "Rabbit for supper," she said.

"Leshya."

She sighed. "Another four days," she said.

"Why?"

"You'll be four days stronger, and the moon will be dark. We'll need that, I think."

Aspar nodded and looked back to the east. He pointed at a nearly invisible talus slope that vanished behind a ridge.

"Is that the pa.s.s we came in through?" he asked.

She nodded.

"I reckoned."

"The only way in or out unless you're a bird or wildbuck."

He nodded, then squinted. "We might not get that four days," he said.

"Ilshvic," Leshya snarled. He didn't know what she'd said but could make a pretty good guess. Leshya snarled. He didn't know what she'd said but could make a pretty good guess.

A line of mounted figures was coming through the pa.s.s, a lot of them.

CHAPTER FOUR.

PROPOSITION AND D DISPOSITION.

THE BROADSWORD cutting toward Cazio was moving almost too fast to see, and he suddenly understood the nasty grin on the monk's face. Cazio reacted from years of training, jabbing his lighter but longer weapon out in a stop-thrust that should have pierced the man's sword wrist. It didn't, though, because-impossibly-the monk checked his swing. He stepped back and regarded Cazio for a moment, just out of measure. cutting toward Cazio was moving almost too fast to see, and he suddenly understood the nasty grin on the monk's face. Cazio reacted from years of training, jabbing his lighter but longer weapon out in a stop-thrust that should have pierced the man's sword wrist. It didn't, though, because-impossibly-the monk checked his swing. He stepped back and regarded Cazio for a moment, just out of measure.

"Interesting," he said. "I've never met a swordsman like you. Are you from Safnia?"

"They have butchers in Safnia," Cazio panted, trying to both watch the man and check his peripheral vision. Sounds of battle were everywhere. "But the only swordsmen in the world come from Vitellio."

"I see." The fellow grinned again. "Vitellio. Home of the father Church."

The man had gray eyes, darkish skin, and an accent Cazio couldn't place.

"Tell me," the man went on. "Why do you follow this heretic queen, you a man from the very birthplace of our faith?"

"I like the color of her hair," Cazio replied, "and the sort of people she a.s.sociates with."

"When I move next," the man warned, "you won't have time to see the cut that kills you. Lay down your arms and you will be well treated."

"I'm already well treated," Cazio replied.

"You know what I mean."

Cazio sighed and relaxed his guard.

"See there," the man said. "I knew you looked sensible."

Cazio nodded and lunged, throwing his front foot forward and pushing with the back.

The monk blurred toward him, and as Cazio let his lunge collapse into a forward duck, he felt hair shaved from the top of his head. The monk ran onto his rapier so hard that the hilt slammed into his solar plexus and the grip was wrenched from Cazio's hand. The monk fell, hit, rolled, and sprawled, eyes glazing and blood pumping.

"As long as I can draw you into attacking when and where I want," Cazio informed him, "I don't need to be able to see you."

The monk jerked his head in affirmation. Cazio could see that his spine was broken.