Anhuset embraced her conversion from hater to lover of the previously despised vegetable with gusto, wolfing down three heaping servings before announcing she intended on abducting Erostis to take him back with her to Saggara so he might share his culinary secrets with the Kai cooks.
Erostis gave his liege a pained look. “Sorry, my lord, but I'm not learning how to cook that bug pie abomination you like to eat if I go there. I have my limits.”
After the destruction of High Salure's kitchen as half his garrison waited outside the doors to do battle with an escaped scarpatine, Serovek agreed with him. “I think it best to leave the preparation and consumption of such a dangerous meal within Kai territory, where the staff knows how to handle one of the creatures in most situations.”
“No pie for you at High Salure, margrave,” Anhuset said with mock sympathy.
“It just means I'll have to visit Saggara more often, madam,” he replied, waiting for her expected scowl at the idea of seeing him. His heart knocked briefly against his ribs as her expression turned pensive instead, nor did she fire back a sharp rebuttal.
Anhuset further shocked him by setting her plate down and announcing she was off to scout the area. If he didn't know better, he'd suspect the fierce Kaishahad found a ready excuse to flee.
She returned just as Serovek finished brushing down Magas for the evening and checked the ropes of the makeshift corral he and Erostis had strung earlier between a grouping of trees. The firelight behind her edged her silhouette in a ruddy corona. Her silvery hair challenged the moon's grace, and the bright tapestry of her eyes glowed in the darkness as she approached him. “I wondered if you'd still be awake when I returned.”
He met her halfway. “Did you discover anything odd?”
She shook her head. “No.” She dragged out the word, and they both paused in their trek back to the fire, stopping next to the wagon.
Serovek frowned. “There's a wealth of reservation in that one word, Anhuset.”
Her lips turned down at the corners. “I could just be twitchy thanks to our trip to Haradis.” She nodded toward the dark barrier of trees from which she'd emerged. “I found three sets of tracks heading in the direction we're traveling, following a line of trampled brush and trails of blood. Boar tracks too. I think a trio of hunters was tracking a wounded hog. The spoor wasn't fresh, but I followed it for a short time until it faded. Nothing of interest really.”
“But?” She might well be twitchy as she claimed, seeing an enemy behind every tree, under every rock, and lurking in every shadow. It didn't matter. He trusted her instincts, and something about the spoor had raised her hackles.
“It feels purposeful.” She blew a strand of silvery hair away from her face, and her foot tapped the ground in a sign of her frustration. “I'm not explaining this right. Old tracks, old blood. An ordinary hunt. But like someone went to the trouble of making it look that way.”
He gazed beyond her shoulder to the shadowy wood. They weren't far outside contested territory, and even in places where peace mostly reigned, raiders and brigands of every source still presented a threat to travelers. If miscreants followed them with the intent to rob, they were in for a nasty surprise. Even with their numbers halved, Serovek's party presented a formidable fighting force. Erostis and Klanek were experienced soldiers and had seen their fair share of skirmishes, and he almost pitied anyone who'd challenge a Kaisha.
At his prolonged silence, she raised an eyebrow. “Do you doubt me? You're welcome to see for yourself.”
“I'm not that big of a fool, Anhuset. If you suspect there's more to those tracks than meets the eye, I believe you. We've known to be on our guard since the outset of this trip. We'll continue as we are. If we're being tracked by thieves who think us easy prey, they'll learn differently soon enough.”
She gestured to the wagon. “Who'd guess an ordinary cart pulled by ordinary horse flesh would draw so much attention. You'd think it's a monarch's sedan and stallions from Nadiza's lightning herd.”
Serovek walked to the wagon, and Anhuset followed. He leaned over the center board and folded back the blanket covering Megiddo's ensorceled bier. The thrum of Elder magic tickled his fingertips when he did. The monk's face, peaceful in repose, carried none of the blue corona Serovek had half expected to see when he moved aside the covering. “It isn't the wagon itself or the team that pulls it. It's the fact the cargo is covered and accompanied by an armed escort.”
“Such inspires curiosity,” she said. “It doesn't necessarily incite robbery. There's something more at work here.” He felt the weight of her curious gaze before it settled on the bier. “For no reason I can explain, it's difficult not to stare at him. Even when he was alive—still awake and aware—he drew the eye.”
Serovek gazed at her profile from the corner of one eye. She'd gathered her hair in a loose knot at her nape, exposing her graceful neck and the sharp line of her jaw. He liked her face with its high cheekbones and swooping eyebrows as white as a snowy owl's feathers, the curve of her lips that were so parsimonious with their smile. She wore a contemplative expression as she studied Megiddo, an expression tinged with admiration. “You find him handsome then?” A nettle of unwelcome jealousy spoiled even more with a touch of envy pricked his insides. How he'd love to garner such an expression from her for himself.
Her quick, derisive snort answered his question before her words did. “Hardly, but even ugly can be arresting.”
Her remark gave him hope. She'd been stingingly blunt regarding her opinion of his appearance. Anhuset, like most Kai, considered humans ugly, and the sentiment was returned by most humans. Still, he'd never taken her harsh honesty personally. Even had she thought him as impressive as Megiddo, or as handsome as the handsomest Kai man, it wouldn't matter. This was a woman whose affections would be hard-won if won at all, and they wouldn't be obtained through surface attractiveness.
He flipped the blanket edge back into place, hiding Megiddo's face, and turned to his companion. He studied her as she studied him, her lamplight eyes bright in the darkness, the emotions there hidden in depths of numerous citrine shades. “And beauty is a quality defined by more than appearance,” he said softly. “Good night, Anhuset.” He bowed and left her at the wagon.
Her reply, just as softly uttered, trailed after him. “May your rest be peaceful, margrave.”
The following day they rode parallel to a deepening ravine, their pace slowed by the topography's gradual ascent and the degradation of the road. The smooth packed earth of the market roads gave way to rocky, uneven ground, and Klanek dared not push the horse team to a faster pace and risk breaking an axle.
Serovek consulted his map twice, searching for a bridge that crossed the ravine and allowed them to reach the other side and the entrance to the Lobak Valley. The map showed two bridges adjacent to each other; the beam bridge and a primitive footbridge. The footbridge came into view first. And last. No other bridge stretched across the ravine beside it.
He reined Magas to a halt and signaled the others to do the same. “Fuck,” he muttered, scowling at the rickety footbridge, just wide enough to allow two people to cross side-by-side if they were willing to risk the sway and swoop of frayed ropes at the mercy of a howling wind.
Erostis and Anhuset stopped on either side of him. The soldier stated the obvious. “There's no beam bridge.”
“I can see that.” Serovek unfolded the portion of the map showing the bridges. It hadn't changed since his last study of landmarks. Two bridges, not one, and he was certain they hadn't taken a wrong turn. The way here had been mostly a straight track.
Anhuset leaned toward him for a look at the map. “Your map says to cross here?” One eyebrow slowly climbed as she changed positions to stare at the footbridge. “You'll not get one horse across that death trap much less a wagon and team. It looks ready to snap under the weight of a rat.”