Fool's Errand (Tawny Man, #1)(144)

“Can I have some water?”

“Turn around,” I ordered him and was impassive as he struggled to obey. I untied his wrists. He made a small sound as I jerked the leather thong free of the clotted blood there. Slowly he moved his hands around in front of him. “You can get water over there, when the horses are satisfied.”

He nodded slowly. I knew well how badly his shoulders ached by now. My own was still throbbing from striking the tree branch. His scraped face had darkened and scabbed from the damage taken in our fall. One blue eye was shot with blood. Somehow, his injuries made him look even younger. He studied the wrist the wolf had mangled. By the set of his jaw, I knew he was afraid even to touch his injury. Slowly he lifted his eyes to me, and then looked past me.

“Where is your wolf?” he asked me.

I nearly backhanded him. He flinched at my aborted gesture. “You don't ask questions,” I told him coldly. “You answer them. Where are they taking the Prince?”

He looked at me blankly and I cursed my own clumsiness. Perhaps he had not known the Prince's identity. Well, too late to call the words back. I'd probably have to kill him anyway. I recognized that thought as Chade's and set it aside. “The boy who rides with the cat,” I clarified. “Where are they taking him?”

He swallowed dryly. “I don't know,” he lied sullenly.

I wanted to throttle the truth out of him. He threatened me in too many ways. I stood up abruptly before I could give in to my temper. “Yes you do. I'll give you some time to think about all the ways that I could make you tell me. Then I'll be back.” I walked a few steps away from him before I forced a grin onto my face and turned. “Oh. And if you think this is a good time to make a run for it ... well, two or three steps outside, and you'd no longer be wondering where my wolf is.”

A white blast of light suddenly flared into our shelter. The horses screamed, and two heartbeats later, thunder shook the earth. I blinked, momentarily blinded, and then outside the mouth of the cave, the rain came down as if someone had overturned a bucket. Abruptly, it was dark outside. A puff of wind carried rain into our cave mouth, and then shifted away. The warmth of the day departed.

I took food over to Lord Golden and Laurel. She looked a bit dazed. He had dragged one of the saddles and a blanket over to make a backrest for her. She pushed her straggling hair back from her face with her left hand. Her right lay in her lap. She had bled more than I thought, for blood had trickled down to clot between her fingers and outline her nails. Lord Golden accepted the bread and apples for both of them.

I glanced at the downpour outside the cave's mouth and shook my head. “This storm will wash every bit of trail away. The good of that is that perhaps the villagers will just take their dead and go home. The bad is that we lose the Prince's trail, too. Making our ambusher talk is our only hope of finding the Prince now. I'll tend to that when I get back.” I unbuckled my sword belt and held it out. When neither reached for it, I drew the blade and set it on the ground beside them. I lowered my voice.

“You might have to use it. If you do, don't hesitate. Kill him. If he gets away and manages to warn his friends, we'll have no chance of recovering the Prince. I'm letting him think for a bit. Then I'll get the truth out of him. Meanwhile, I'm going out to get a bit of firewood while there's any still dry. And I'll check to see if anyone is following our trail.”

Laurel lifted her good hand to cover her mouth. She suddenly looked sick. Lord Golden's glance went to the prisoner, and then met mine. His eyes were troubled, but surely he knew I had to look for Nighteyes. “Take my cloak,” he suggested.

“It would only get as wet as the rest of me. I'll change into dry things when I get back.”

He didn't tell me to be careful, but it was in his look. I nodded to it, steeled myself, and walked out into the pouring rain. It was every bit as cold and unpleasant as I expected it to be. I stood, eyes squinted and shoulders hunched to it, peering out through the gray downpour. Then I took a breath and resolutely changed my expecta' tions. As Black Rolf had once shown me, much discomfort was based on human expectations. As a man, I expected to be warm and dry when I chose to be. Animals did not harbor any such beliefs. So it was raining. That part of me that was wolf could accept that. Rain meant being cold and wet. Once I acknowledged that and stopped comparing it to what I wished it to be, the conditions were far more tolerable. I set out.

The rain had turned the pathway up to the cave into a milky stream. The footing was treacherous as I went down it. Even knowing that our tracks were there, I had a hard time seeing them. I allowed myself to hope that rain, dark, and the lack of a trail to follow would send our pursuers back to town. Some would have undoubtedly turned back to the village to bear the tidings of the deaths. Did I dare to hope they all had, bearing the bodies with them?

At the foot of the hill, I paused. Cautiously, I quested out. Where are you?

There was no answer. Lightning cracked in the distance, and thunder rumbled a few moments later. The fury of the rain renewed itself in a roar. I thought of my wolf as I had last seen him, battered and tired and old. I threw aside all caution and howled my fear to the sky. Nighteyes!

Be quiet. I'm coming. He was as disgusted with me as if I Jtrê

were a yelping cub. I closed down my Wit, but still sighed in deep relief. If he could be that irritated with me, then he was not in as bad a way as I had feared.