She drank the broth and then struck her tent. She had been meeting Iktan for breakfast, but today she did not. She wasn’t sure xe would be waiting for her, and even if xe was, she wasn’t sure she wanted to speak to xir just yet. Mostly because she wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t know if she should pretend that last night didn’t happen, or if she should acknowledge the secrets shared and discuss them. Neither sounded particularly desirable.
“Let it wait,” she murmured, as she strapped on her pack. As the company moved forward, she fell back to the rear to avoid both commander and assassin priest.
They passed through beautiful country, the sameness of the prairie ceding to soaring mountains that pierced a bright blue sky, their slopes dressed in blinding blankets of snow. Her legs noted the steady incline, and her lungs labored to take in the thinner air. She would not live in a place like this, so far from the sea, but she admired the majesty of it and believed, if only briefly, that gods must have formed it with their own being.
Around midday, they reached a lake nestled in a valley buttressed by mountains, and by that lake was a town. They set up camp within sight of the single-story stone buildings and slanting roofs, and Xiala caught sight of Ziha assembling a group to go to the town and purchase supplies. Another group was assigned to procure transportation down the Puumun, which she could see snaking off the body of the lake downslope and to the east. She lounged in her tent for a while, but the town beckoned to her. She missed people who might speak to her, share the news of what was happening in the larger world. She doubted news of Tova would make it this far and precede them, but she wondered if she might send word back to Serapio. Tell him of what she had learned of a traitor in Carrion Crow, and of Golden Eagle’s alliance with Cuecola. Her restlessness pushed her to her feet, and she donned her blue cloak and ventured down to the town.
It was not much to see, particularly after the grandeur of Tova, but its roads were well packed and clean of refuse, and the handful of shops and houses were tidy and well tended. She spied a traveler’s house, a squat rectangle with an inner courtyard, and wondered what drink she might find there. But the land sickness still lingered, headache never far off, and she decided against imbibing. Instead, she wandered down to the lake’s edge, where a kind of harbor had been built out over the water.
She spotted the problem immediately.
It was the lake itself. More to the point, it was the lake in winter. It looked to be still navigable, but there was a thin sheet of ice along the bank that suggested it would not be for long, although surely if they left now and went east, descending, they could outrun the winter freeze. It had not been nearly as cold here as it had been in Tova, although she was unfamiliar with this part of the Meridian and did not know what the coming days would bring. Xiala imagined Ziha was at this moment rehearsing an impassioned speech about the necessity of taking fifty people downriver and how many craft that would take and at what cost. No doubt the local riverman was about to become very rich.
She didn’t relish the idea of having to turn around and walk back to Tova, but she doubted it would come to that. Golden Eagle had the funds, and in the end, she was sure a bargain would be struck. It just might take a few extra days and substantially more cacao to do it.
After a while, she grew bored, and her stomach reminded her she had not eaten yet. A headache also threatened, and she worried she had stayed too long. She glanced up at the sky. The sun had begun its descent behind the mountains, but a good half hour of light remained. If she returned to camp now, she might be able to eat and retire to her tent before either Ziha or Iktan came looking for her.
She had made it halfway up the slope and past the town, the camp just over the next rise but still hidden by the tall grass, when she heard someone shout, “Teek!”
She turned to see three people approaching. A woman in the lead and behind her two men. The woman looked a bit like Ziha, brown-skinned and brown-haired but light-eyed. She wore the gold and white of Golden Eagle, and Xiala thought she looked a bit familiar, like she had seen her around camp. The men she did not know. They were paler in complexion and wore patchwork clothes, heavy furs on their shoulders, and rough hide and string for leggings. She tensed, unsure what to think. The woman gave her a friendly wave. Xiala looked back over her shoulder. She could almost see the tops of the camp tents and, below in the twilight, the town. Should she wait? The men looked none too savory, and her keen sense of danger urged her on. She turned her back to the strangers and quickened her pace, but her legs wobbled, and her breath came labored.