“Burned down to the stone piers,” Tunstall replied. He didn’t sound at all worried. Of course, one time I’d thought him dead asleep before his fist lashed out and broke a Rat’s jaw. With Tunstall it’s sometimes hard to tell.

  “Then how do you cross the marsh?” That cheerful, casual voice was Master Farmer’s.

  “Shank’s mare,” the cove said. “And you’ll need a guide. As you take the north road, seek the last cot on the left, with a shrine to Merscart of the Green on the north side. Ormer will take you on from there.”

  I heard the shift of clothing. “How do we know this Ormer is trustworthy?” Lady Sabine asked.

  “He’ll be with you, won’t he?” the headwoman demanded, her voice sharp. “He’ll be stranded with you if it comes to that. He’s odd, but he’ll guide you well.”

  “There’s another task we’ll require of one of your people,” Tunstall said. “I need a courier to take a letter to the Deputy Provost right away. The matter’s urgent. Whoever you choose must stop for nothing and no one on the road.”

  “So I’m to take two of our folk,” the headwoman began, plainly furious by now.

  “Three,” the older cove said, interrupting her. “I’m going with whoever takes that ride. Look at them, Beldeal. Dogs on a Hunt, with a noble riding along? They’re trouble, and the trouble might spread.”

  Tunstall said naught to that. The enemy had no reason to send killers along the way behind us, or even to think to send killers after us, now that they’d destroyed the bridge. They’d have plenty of time to ride off with the prince by the time we got back to the road called the Rivers Road on my map.

  In my mind I saw the drowned oarsmen and their officers, their own ships holding them prisoner as they sank. Where most folk shrank from killing more than necessary, these bloody-handed scuts slaughtered ten as easily as one.

  Beldeal snapped, “You lot best pay them—both of them!—well, to make up for them losing the day’s work. And a fee for three horses lost for the time—”

  I heard the jingle of coins tossed on wood. When she spoke, Lady Sabine did so in a most elegant drawl. Lady Teodorie spoke in such a way. Hearing it in a voice I loved made the hair stand up on the back of my neck.

  “What we will pay for, woman, is four good breakfasts for my human companions and me, with rubdowns and food for our mounts, and food and water for the cat and the hound who travel with us.” The folk in front of me, who could hear that refined voice, were leaving. For people who lived out in marshland, they seemed to know very well what nobles sounded like. A couple of them, younger even than my brothers, stayed and bowed, pointing to the horses. I nodded to them, and they led our mounts and packhorses around the side of the public house.

  “Your riders will be paid by the Deputy Provost,” I heard Tunstall say. “On delivery of my letter, with the seal intact. Be assured, they’ll be fairly rewarded. I’ll want them to go as soon as I write the letter.”

  “Leave it to me,” the deep-voiced cove said. “I might slow us down, big as I am, but all will be done as you need it done.”

  “We’d prefer you got there alive over getting there a couple of hours earlier,” Tunstall replied. “Cooper, stand down,” he called.

  I holstered my baton and went back into the room. Tunstall had taken his writing things from his pack and was working on his report. Master Farmer was talking to a young, plump maidservant, who he soon had in giggles. My lady had left the room. Since I could hear Beldeal’s voice shouting for someone to chop and someone else to bring a ham, I knew breakfast was not coming right away. I found my own table, brought out my journal, and wrote more on our journey so far.

  I looked up when my lady returned—she had gotten one of the maids to bring water to a room so she could wash a bit—and when Tunstall gave his letter to a youth of 15 or so and a big man who had the deep voice I’d heard. I went back to work on my journal, having no wish to listen to their orders. The youth looked strong for his age, all rawhide muscle, and the older cove had the air and very short haircut of a former soldier. They would do well if they had decent horses. So would the other messenger they chose. One of them at least would surely reach Arenaver.

  I put my work away when Beldeal came in with a loaded tray and joined the others at a large table. For a while all was silent as we ate. Beldeal had sent the two younger mots out of the room once we were served, doubtless not wanting any danger from us to light on them, but she had stayed. The more food that went into our mouths, the more relaxed she got. Seemingly she took pride in her cookery, and the men and Lady Sabine in particular made it plain that they liked it. I ate enough, but I was more worried about Achoo. She paced, huffing like, looking out the open door as if the bridge might turn up out there, with her scent on it. Finally I took my plate and sat on the floor, then called her to me, wheedling her to take bites of my food. Once she tasted the egg pie with herbs, I didn’t have to coax her anymore.

  “You treat that creature like she’s a human. Wasting good coin to feed people food to an animal!” Beldeal said.

  I’d heard it before. No matter how many times it happens, I always feel ashamed that folk would think I waste money of any kind. I shifted around so Master Farmer was between me and Beldeal’s sharp brown eyes.

  “Achoo is a scent hound,” Master Farmer said innocently. “She has more rank in the Provost’s Guard than I do.”

  Seemingly Beldeal was one of those mots who had a very narrow view of what was and wasn’t right in the world. “An ordinary cur is of more value than a man?”

  I started to bristle when she called Achoo an ordinary cur. Lady Sabine, who’d been seated on one side of me, reached down to rest a hand on my shoulder. I tried to relax. I would not disgrace myself before the lady if I could help it.

  Beldeal, like most folk who think theirs is the only way of looking at things, was still gifting us with her opinion. “We have hunting hounds, but they’re nothing special. We can always train another. You dry worlders are a strange lot.”

  “Dry worlders?” Tunstall asked.

  “You’re going to find out,” Beldeal said. “There’s only one way to reach the eastern end of what the likes of you call the Rivers Road. You’ll be taking the ways through the marsh. Merscart of the Green grants us solid pieces of land out there, but sometimes he takes a few of them back. He’s not inclined to tell us which, or when.”

  “Is there a better way around the south end of the marsh?” Lady Sabine asked.

  Beldeal cackled. “Oh, no, my lady. There Merscart has married two goddesses, them of the Halseander and the Banas. All three twine together where they meet in water and green.”

  Once we’d packed up and were riding south on our way out of the village, Master Farmer remarked, “She’s a splendid cook, but what a disagreeable female!”

  Tunstall chuckled. “Pray you never meet my mother, then, if you think Beldeal is no rose. My mother is armed.”

  “Perhaps we’ll just fight over you, then, in a civilized manner,” Lady Sabine remarked. “No awkward questions about who sits where at the wedding, should one ever come. Just clean and simple swordswomanship.”

  “That would terrify me, a battle as a wedding,” Master Farmer said. He looked back at me. “Wouldn’t it terrify you, Cooper?”

  I stared out at the marsh, ignoring him. I was starting to get a very bad feeling, based in part on the fact that I could not see the trees or hills that marked the far side. I was certain Tunstall and the lady at least had made note of it, too, but were far wiser than me and chose not to worry about it yet. After all, there was naught we could do. Without a ferry at the road, this was the only way to pass. I hope Tunstall’s report to the Deputy Provost urged her to start rebuilding the old bridge.

  We did not have to ride much further before we found an open-fronted shrine roofed and floored in fresh marsh grasses. Birds and creatures fled it as we approached. Lady Sabine dismounted, letting Drummer’s reins trail, and approached the shrine, her hands held prayer-fashion before her.

  The three of us still a-horse looked at the simple cot set back against the woods between the village and the shrine. Chickens pecked in the dirt before the house while a goat kept the grass nipped near to the roots at one side. On the other side, far from the tethered goat’s attentions, was a small vegetable garden.

  As the most junior Dog, I have always had the job of knocking on the door. I slid down from Saucebox’s saddle and walked up the beaten earth path. I was about to knock when two four-footed dogs, golden brown with white ruffs and pointed muzzles, raced around the goat’s side of the house without a sound, galloping straight at me. I got my baton out, then kept my hands out and away from my sides. I looked down at the newcomers’ feet, not into their eyes. If I met their eyes they would think I was challenging and attack.

  Achoo raced toward us even as the strange hounds neared me. “Achoo, no!” I cried. There are some Common words my Achoo will obey when I say them sharp enough. She halted, her fur sticking up, her throat rumbling in a growl. “Tinggal,” I ordered Achoo. “They think we’re trespassing.”

  I heard the ring of steel being drawn. A glance told me my lady advanced from the shrine, her sword in hand. Tunstall had dismounted and his baton was out. I put up an open hand for them as a signal to halt, wishing they obeyed the same commands that Achoo did. I wanted to know where these hounds’ master was.

  “I don’t like Dogs callin’ on me, nor do I care for swords in the fist,” a man called from the shadows under the trees. “Tell the mage I’ll put an arrow through any of yez gullet if he twitches.”

  “I’m not deaf,” Master Farmer complained from his horse’s back. The dark blue sparkling fire around his hands faded, but I was beginning to think that meant naught about Master Farmer’s readiness to work. “Do you treat everyone who comes to knock on your door this way?”

  “On’y Dogs,” called the unseen cove. “What do you want?”

  “We need to cross the marsh,” Tunstall shouted. “Beldeal at the inn sent us to you.”

  For far too long, we awaited a reply in silence. Then a tall, skinny young cove walked out of the woods. He was well tanned, with black hair and black eyes. Nature had given him short shrift on his chin, but I doubted the local mots noticed when they saw the muscles in his chest and arms. He wore no shirt, only a pair of breeches and rough old boots. I wondered if he had something for the bugs. They did not bite, but as the air warmed, they made a nuisance of themselves around my eyes and ears.

  He carried a longbow and quiver. The bow was unstrung now.

  “Call off your hounds,” Tunstall said. “It’s no way to start a talk of business.”

  “Is it business you’re after?” Ormer wanted to know. “Most ways outsiders in uniforms and armor come here to order us about. It’s not business we’re offered. It’s slavery.”

  “We’ll pay you for your labors,” Tunstall replied stiffly. “At the orders of the Lord Provost, Gershom of Haryse.”

  Ormer snorted. “A few pence for four days of my life? Be sure I’ll make an offering for your lord to my lord, Merscart of the Green.”

  “Four days?” asked my lady, considerably startled.

  “My life. Two days of your’n, if we don’t bog down,” Ormer replied.

  Lady Sabine shook her head. “Do we look like coneys to you? Cooper’s map says the distance around this end of the marsh is forty miles back to the Rivers Road. It’s a map by the Crown’s own cartographers, and by their measure we should be at our destination by nightfall if we don’t linger here.”

  Ormer’s full mouth twitched. He didn’t move as a large green lizard raced up his leg and chest, though I’d wager its claws were sharp. When the creature was braced on his shoulder, glaring at us with black bead eyes, Ormer said, “A Crown what’s-it, you say. Mapmaking cove, he is? And he walked the ground himself in his pretty court slippers?”

  Master Farmer, the educated buck, cleared his throat. “Not always. Sorry, Cooper. Some of them copy another map, which may have been copied in its time.…”

  “When was it done?” Ormer asked, seemingly interested and concerned, now. “We’ve had that much flooding these last three year. If your map be old, mayhap it’s missing as much as thirty square mile of marsh, give or take.”

  “There’s no shorter way to get back to the Rivers Road?” Tunstall asked. “Beldeal said the south end of the marsh is worse.”

  Ormer nodded. “We could manage it,” he said, giving the lizard a pat and the dogs a nod. “But horses can’t go that way, nor mules nor ponies. These last fifty year, folk take the bridge.”

  “What did you do before the bridge?” asked Lady Sabine.

  Ormer looked at her. “We kept ourselves to ourselves.”

  “My lady,” Tunstall said to correct him. “She is Lady Sabine of Macayhill.”

  Ormer leaned to the side without a lizard and spat. “We’re not much for graces here in Marsh Hollow, Your Ladyship.”

  Tunstall looked at all of us. He stopped at me. “There’s no other way?”

  I crossed my arms. “Achoo was still on the scent when we got to the bridge. We won’t know if they went somewhere else till she smells the other side of it.”

  Tunstall inspected Lady Sabine and Master Farmer once more. It was my lady who shrugged and said, “At least we need not worry about insect bites?”

  “There’s plenty else to bite asides midges, mosquitoes, and the like, Your Ladyship,” Ormer said. “Don’t expect bows and curtsies from the bears and mountain lions. I’ll be paid if I’m to lose four days or—” He went silent when Tunstall held up a gold noble. It had to be more coin than Ormer had seen in all his days, mayhap more gold than all Marsh Hollow had seen.

  “You’ll have it at our destination,” Tunstall said. “Not before. And if you think to lead us into a bog and rob us …” He pointed to Master Farmer, who gave Ormer that exceedingly silly grin of his. Solemnly Tunstall explained, “That is a mage.”

  Ormer pointed to his bright green friend. “This is a marsh lizard. They grow up to six feet long. They’re common, and they swim.” He whistled to the pair of hounds, who finally moved away from me. “I’ll pack up.”

  Thursday, June 14, till

  Monday, June 18, 249

  I will not write of the next miserable days. I can never forget all the biting and burrowing pests that stole food and chewed leather. All of us discovered there were four different words for mud, each meaning different things about how thick, wet, and grainy it might be. We made the acquaintance of grass and marsh snakes as well as turtles and frogs, and dined every night on eels and fish. All of the horses, even Drummer and Steady, became good friends as we hauled them out of bogs which were not there the last time Ormer had passed that way. We saw, and let live, a good dozen marsh deer, since no one felt lively enough to skin, dress, and cook one if we brought it down. All of us were caked in mud from top to toe.

  Once we came closer to the western side of the marsh, we learned what the map could not tell us, the reason why it would take us a fourth day at least to reach the road. In spreading, the marsh had gone up to the foot of stony cliffs that rose three hundred feet into the air. I wanted to scream, but I did not. How could I, when no one else complained? Pounce did far worse. After an hour’s bumpy ride and a near slide from a reedy island into the water, he had vanished into the Divine Realms with a promise to join us at our destination.

  The nights we were out were not wonderful. Finding a dry spot to fit all of us was an interesting chore. Once we were settled, I worked on the journal, bringing it up to date. That at least I managed. Then we would set the watches and bed down, to be up before dawn. We never asked Ormer to take a watch, but he and his dogs were always up several times a night anyway, wandering noiselessly through the water and reeds around our camp. Sometimes, while he was out, the member of our team on watch would hear a large creature splashing off into the distance, a big animal that we had not even known was so close.

  Monday night we came to dry ground at the base of the cliffs. It was twilight. Master Farmer and Lady Sabine had lanterns lit to guide our steps. It was the promise of solid land under us that had kept us pressing on so late.

  Once we’d set up camp and had supper, Ormer said, “You’re on the good side of it now. An hour’s ride from this place, all dry land, you’ll have your road. I’ve been along here recent, and we’ve had no rain, so you won’t be getting wet. I’d like my pay now, if it’s all the same. Like as not, I’ll be on my way before dawn. I can be home day after tomorrow if the god wills it.” He stroked the lizard, who basked beside the fire.

  “Why is it so quick for you?” Master Farmer wanted to know. “Why did you take a longer way with us?”

  Ormer smiled. “Because I’m not trailing all manner of horseflesh and packs and armor,” he said. “All I got’s myself, the hounds, and Summerleaf, here.” He tickled the lizard under the chin. “Anyone that’s burdened heavy goes island by island as you did if the bridge isn’t safe.”

  Lady Sabine propped her chin on her hand. “And what kind of burdens do those island-by-island travelers carry, Ormer?” she asked gently. “Bad magic? Coin? Weapons? Slaves?”

  Ormer shook his head. “Don’t nobody take slaves over the marsh save by the bridge, m’lady.” He’d gotten much more comfortable with Lady Sabine once he’d heard her swear when the horses got stuck. “Too many slaves go and drown themselves, they get the chance. The rest—well, I won’t be talking of you folk to them, and I won’t talk of them to you. In the marshes, ’Tis always better to mind your own nets.”

  “What if we must come back over the marsh?” I asked. The others looked at me in horror, and I shrugged. “Just in case it’s needful,” I explained.

  Ormer smiled. “When you reach this end of where the bridge used to be, you’ll find a great willow. Camp under it for a night and my cousins will find you. Say you want to visit Summerleaf, and they’ll guide you over.” The lizard flicked its tongue at us, as if it knew Ormer spoke of it.