It came from the tree.

“We do not understand the Boeotians’ hatred of us. We do not understand why they invade our lands. With gratitude, we thank the brave ones of Silvandom who form the primary defense against their intrusions. Such opposite philosophies. One race kills. The other preserves. Even the combined might of all the kingdoms could not destroy Boeotia. Yet the combined strength holds the Empress at bay.”

– Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos

Paedrin crouched so near to Hettie that he could smell her skin. She definitely needed a bath. He nearly commented on that fact when Kiranrao appeared on the other side of her, turning from smoke to solid in an instant. The air tingled with magic every time he did that, and it was starting to annoy the Bhikhu.

Hettie smoothed the hair away from her ear so she could hear him better.

“They are not far,” he whispered. “Be silent and wait. They have a Finder with them.”

“We have a Finder with us as well,” Paedrin reminded him.

“Well and good, Bhikhu. But if you have a clear shot, Hettie, kill him.”

Paedrin planted his hand on her arm as they skulked on the low, sparsely wooded hill.

She shook off his hand. “The Bhikhu is squeamish about such things.” She gave him a scolding look. “I can hobble him, though.”

Kiranrao sighed, shaking his head. “There’s a fool born every moment, and every one of them lives! If you had been raised in a decent orphanage, lad, you would have learned to outgrow this conscience of yours.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I might consent to see you strangled and not intervene,” Paedrin said.

“Quiet. Here they come!”

All three flattened themselves against the slope of the hill, carefully wrapped in the dark side of the bluff. The night had fallen already, but there was a broad moon in the sky giving off ample light.

There was the sound of marching and the snuffling of hounds. A swinging lantern caused a bobbing plume of light to crest the hill. They were low enough that it could not find them. For a moment all three quit breathing. Paedrin was aware of how close Hettie was to him, and it made him scowl for being distracted. There was something musky in her scent, an earthy smell like grass, sweat, and trampled wildflowers. He swallowed, trying to master his thoughts again, to count the various sounds and try to imagine how many soldiers from Kenatos were hunting them.

They passed the hillock, heading east. Soon the hounds were barking and the men began to jog. Around the far side of the hill, the one with the lantern became visible. Only one lantern. How foolish they were. In the dark they would not find anyone, even with those hounds.

Paedrin began counting the soldiers as they appeared.

“How many?” Kiranrao whispered.

“Thirty men,” Hettie answered, slowly rising. “No horses. I’m surprised.”

“There are thirty-two,” Kiranrao said, smiling at her condescendingly. “The Rikes walk more quietly. There they are. Do you see them?” The black robes made them difficult to see.

“Thirty-two,” Hettie answered calmly. “Why the Rikes?”

Kiranrao touched his lips with a finger. “To communicate back to Kenatos. This is not the only group that hunts us, I imagine. They are only following our trail to Havenrook.”

“Which is why we double-backed and now head west,” Paedrin said, bristling with impatience. “They may miss our trail in the dark, thinking us bound east. When they realize it, we are already gone. It is the Uddhava.”

Kiranrao nodded as if it were an accomplishment. “It is. The Bhikhu are not the only ones who use it.”

“You flatter us.”

“I did not intend to.”

“Quiet, both of you,” Hettie snapped. “It worries me that they found our shore trail as quickly as they did. I had hoped for a longer lead. I did not think they would catch up to us after only a day.”

“The Arch-Rike can afford the best Finders, my love. Better than you. We lead them on a merry chase. But they will not stay far behind us.”

“Then we should be going,” she said impatiently, starting to stand.

Kiranrao tugged her back down rudely. “Caution says wait. They may not all have traveled in a mass. Patience.”

Paedrin wanted to break his arm. He wanted to stab Kiranrao’s eyes with his fingers, chop his throat to make him choke, and slam him face-first into the nearest tree trunk. He watched covertly as Hettie rubbed her wrist. Pain was a teacher. Kiranrao was overdue a lesson himself.

In the dark stillness, they waited. The line of soldiers had long vanished into the night. Still they waited. Then two more men, walking side by side, could be heard; they hastened to join the others. Had they left the hilltop, they would have been exposed in the plains.