HONOR BOUND

Chapter 7

I must give praise where praise is due: Lady Inella is a truly admirable young woman. It's now five full days since we left Tmer behind. Five grueling days of riding and walking over difficult terrain, with far too few breaks for resting or eating, and we've yet to hear a single complaint from her.

We haven't made a fire. The nights are warm enough to survive without it, and even though smoke would most likely not be too visible in the near-constant breeze, its smell would disperse far and wide and possibly alert a curious nose. At least our meals aren't limited to mere bread, but what provisions we have are beginning to taste rather stale, not to mention repetitious. Thank goodness, nothing has started to go bad yet, and we also have an ample supply of fresh, clean water in the numerous brooks and streams that stripe the mountainside – even if I wouldn't mind getting a good swig of ale for a change, to wash down something warm... pastries, perhaps, or porridge, or... Lady Inella hasn't grumbled, though, and I'm not going to be the first one to do that, so I keep my longing thoughts to myself.

Nor has she grumbled about having to sleep under a rickety lean-to, on a makeshift bed consisting of a few blankets laid on bare ground, even though this experience must be quite new to her and I'm sure she's already stiff and hurting from all the riding. Luckily I always keep my satchel well stocked with various ointments for different injuries and sores, and she has accepted the offered vial with a nod of thanks. I'm sure she's using it, too, but asking if I could assist her would be too much. She's a Lady, and although just a minstrel, I'm male. She wouldn't allow me to see her anyway in anything but a life-threatening situation, I'm sure of that.

Well, at least she's had the opportunity to sleep. As soon as we rode out of the manor's gate, Rogher's traveler instincts kicked in with full force, which among other things means that the three of us haven't slept at the same time. Somebody has to keep guard all the while, and because Lady Inella is the least experienced member of our party, she's been excluded from guard duty. That leaves me and Rogher, who's doing most of the work anyway, so I've tried to let him rest as much as possible. Not that it's of much use, because he keeps waking up of his own accord, but I try nonetheless. It's his mind that keeps him awake, all the time on the lookout, ears pricked to pick up any suspicious sound, and I curse the invisible threat hanging over our heads and spurring us on. We are all getting tired already, Rogher included, and could well use a full day for resting, if only we could afford it!

But when Rogher gets up after a break and says it's time to go on, we're all soon on our feet and mounting our horses again for another leg of this boring journey. Boring, because we are so incredibly quiet. There's very little talking and certainly not a mention of a song to pass the time, oh no. We must be alert, quick to be the first to catch the first signs of anything untoward before it has time to notice us. I'm surprised that Rogher hasn't told me to walk; I'm so tense that neither he nor his horse could possibly fail to feel it, and nervousness is contagious. He could do that, too, for I'm a fast walker and don't tire easily, but I guess he fears that we might get separated if something should happen.

There's a funny noise from ahead. Rogher leans forward, listening, the reins tightening in his hand, and behind us the Lady's dark bay gelding nearly slows down as well.

"What is it?" she asks, voice lowered.

Rogher shakes his head, pulls the horse to a halt and listens. Then he huffs to himself.

"There's a stream," he says, "and the running water is moving stones around."

He's right, as we can all see soon enough. It's as if the busy little stream were chattering with itself as it winds its way downhill: water is gurgling, and here and there smaller pebbles have been caught between larger rocks, to dance and be rounded and smoothed until nothing is left but rough sand. A small, dark brown bird sits on a large boulder, tail twitching nervously as it watches our approach, then it suddenly darts into the water.

Rogher isn't looking at it, though. He slides down from the horse, looks into the water with a frown, then turns.

"Wait here for a moment," he says, "I'll go to look ahead a bit."

"Is something wrong?" Lady Inella asks quickly.

"No, but we need to get across this brook and the bottom looks far too treacherous here. I'll go and see if there's a better place nearby."

"Very well, I'm sure that I'll be fine here with your minstrel."

With long strides Rogher follows the stream downwards, and I press my lips together. 'Your minstrel' – she hasn't once referred to me by my name even though she must've heard it dozens of times by now, and for some reason this has begun to grate on my nerves. Would it really be so much beneath her to use the given name of a lower-rank person?

She's not looking at me but instead takes the moment to arrange her skirts better. Her horse is enjoying the moment's respite and nibbles on the leaves of saplings growing here, close to the stream, where they can grow free of the shade of taller trees. Rogher's trusted mount underneath me stretches its neck and rests one hind leg, prepared to doze off now that nobody is urging it forward. All this journeying must be wearing the beasts out, not just their riders, I muse.

Rogher returns soon, out of breath after climbing back towards us, but he looks satisfied.

"There's more level ground a little downhill from here, that's where we'll cross this one. Come down, Zyan, and take the reins."

He steps to Lady Inella's horse. "It's better if we walk the horses, my Lady. The hill is pretty steep in places but it's much easier if we go down here, by the stream."

My legs feel a little tottery as I cautiously follow the stream downhill. The horse behind me is picking its step with equal care, snorting in alarm a few times when small rubble rolls around under its hooves so that it slides down, but we all manage to reach the promised level ground without accidents. Here the stream suddenly widens into a glistening pool, surprisingly calm in the middle, before the water once more surges over rocks and down again. Rogher mounts his horse once more and pulls me up as well.

"There." He points towards the lower end of the pond, where it begins to narrow once more. "Ride carefully."

We go first. Our horse wades in, nostrils wide as it feels the bottom before setting a hoof down. The water reaches a little over its knees, not higher, and then the animal leaps up the other bank with clear relief. Lady Inella follows, equally slowly, and they are already climbing up from the water when it happens. Perhaps her horse slips, perhaps a stone is overturned under its hoof, but all of a sudden the animal lets out a frightened sound and seems to sit heavily into the stream.

"Let go! Let go of it!"

Rogher is off his horse in a flash. He runs towards the horse that is struggling to get its footing back and to get up from the stream, its eyes rolling in panic, and lunges to grab a hold of its reins. My heart skips several beats when a hoof swipes horribly close past his head, then he's already pulling the horse up and out of the water. It clambers up, shaky and wet but in one piece, and Lady Inella is still hanging on to it, both arms around its neck.

I jump down as well while Rogher walks the horse away from the slippery bank and looks up.

"Are you all right, my Lady?"

"What was that, 'let go'?" she snaps back, panting, and glides down onto his feet. "I could have been drowned!"

"You could also have been crushed or trampled underfoot if he'd rolled completely over," Rogher says tightly. "Thank the gods nothing worse happened. And now I need to take a look at your horse."

While Rogher is studying the animal's legs, I step closer to Lady Inella and try to calm her down. She's still glaring at my friend but looks unharmed, only shaken by the accident – and wet. She hasn't taken a complete dip, but the wide hems of her cloak and skirt are dark with water and there are splashes all over her upper body. Dismayed, I glance up towards the saddle and see that the roll of blankets attached behind it has taken a surge as well.

"Rogher, we'll have to make a fire," I say.

He heaves a deep sigh, watching as Lady Inella tries to wring her skirt.

"You're right. Now there's no way around it. Those clothes must be dried before we go on or you'll catch your death, my Lady, summer or no summer."

We find a more sheltered spot a little away from the stream and that's where we set our camp. Under the tall spruces it's always rather dark, and building the lean-to and collecting dry firewood keeps us so busy that we hardly even notice the evening dusk until it's getting too dark to see two steps ahead. On this night, though, there'll be a fire to watch over, a fire to warm us. Maybe we could even roast some bread and dried meat over it?

Rogher has cut down a young tree and is setting it next to the fire so that we have something to hang the wet blankets and clothes on. It's a question of finding the delicate balance between getting them close enough to dry but not too close, and keeping that balance will be the most important task during the night guard duty. The pungent aroma of wet wool is soon mingling with the smell of smoke, and I carefully push some more wood into the crackling fire, mindful of sparks. Lady Inella isn't happy to sit there wrapped inside one of the dry blankets, but there's no way her skirt would ever dry properly if she hadn't taken it off.

A look inside the saddlebags in search of food brings another nasty surprise: it, too, has taken a splashing and too much of our remaining bread is nothing but soaked mass. Rogher swears under his breath.

"This won't take us over the mountains," he says gloomily.

We all stare at what's left of our food, and there's no escaping the fact that he's right. Even Lady Inella's indignation is giving way to shocked thoughtfulness.

"What are we going to do now?" she asks.

Rogher rubs the back of his neck, visibly weary.

"Zyan, you must go down and try to find a farmhouse or some other place where you can buy some more," he says at length. "First thing in the morning. We'll have to wait here."

"Couldn't you do it more quickly if you went on horseback?" Lady Inella inquires. "Do you even know if there are houses nearby?"

"The road is down there," Rogher says, "we used it on our way to Tmer and there were several houses along it, even between the villages. I dare say it won't be a big problem to find one. I can't go, though, I'd be far too conspicuous and we must remember that someone might be watching the road. Zyan is a minstrel, he can more easily come and go without attracting much attention."

I sigh at this sadly faultless logic. Lady Inella thinks about it for a while and then shrugs a little inside her blanket.

"That is probably true," she admits. "I suppose we cannot go on while he's down there, though?"

"No, we'll stay here and try to get all this stuff dry." Rogher pokes at the nearest blanket. "It'll do good to the horses, too, to get some rest."

"Rogher, which way exactly are we headed?" I ask him while he begins to put together something resembling a meal from the provisions. "You talked about these two passes with Lord Thonarr, but I don't think you've said at any point which one of them we're going to use."

"Haven't decided yet," Rogher grunts, "but we'll soon be at the point where I'll have to. Probably the eastern one, though. I understand it's a lot easier going, even though it's clearly longer way. But that'll take us back to the road, a little bit north from the Neyarr bridge and village, and from there on we can follow the road to Noragayll. There we can pretend to be a traveling couple, so we won't necessarily have to sleep in the open any more."

"What is the other alternative?" Lady Inella is hungry, her gaze is irresistibly drawn to the slices of smoked meat that are beginning to sizzle on the fire.

"The northern pass," Rogher says. "I must say that it tempts me, because it would cut the total distance down to a half, if not more. But I was also told that it's rather steep and narrow and there are also frequent rock slides. I think we'll have to make up our minds once we find the place where the two paths go their different ways."

"How will you know it?"

"I have good pointers." His voice is confident. "No need to worry, I'll know the spot when we get there. It's not far any more."

It's strange how heavenly food tastes when it's warm, after you have chomped down the exact same things for days on end. We enjoy our meal in complete silence, careful not to use up everything just in case I cannot find a house with very much to sell, and then it's time to get some sleep. I'm the one to be on my errand on the next morning, so I'm the one to take the first watch. Since we only have three dry blankets, Rogher and Lady Inella are forced to crawl between the same covers for the night.

From the corner of my eye I see how he resolutely turns his back to her and closes his eyes, and smile to myself. At least he's still trying to be a good boy.