Shadows Return

were hard to come by, and we may not get any more for a while.”
    “It’s dreadful!”
    “Better than starving, though,” Seregil told him, chewing happily. He passed Ilar his portion of the coney liver. “Here, try this.”
    The man nibbled hesitantly at the dark morsel, then ate the rest. “That isn’t quite as bad.” He cast a longing glance at Alec’s portion.
    Alec popped his into his mouth and chewed loudly. “Mmmm. Delicious!”
    When their scant meal was over Alec stamped out the fire and buried the remains of it and the bones. Then, still hungry and thirstier than ever, they continued on.

    A few hours before dawn, Seregil was carrying Sebrahn when the rhekaro suddenly grew restless, squirming in his sling and clutching at Seregil’s shoulders.
    Seregil put him down, in no mood for any complications.
    As soon as his feet touched the ground, Sebrahn clasped Alec’s hand and tried to pull him in a more easterly direction, heedless of the stony ground on his bare feet. It was the first time Seregil had seen the rhekaro show this much initiative.
    “What do you think he wants?” he asked, intrigued in spite of himself.
    “I don’t know. He’s never done this before.”
    Seregil turned to Ilar. “Do you have any ideas about this?”
    Ilar looked baffled, too. “No.”
    “Well then, I guess we’ll have to follow him.”
    Set loose, Sebrahn tugged at Alec’s arm like a dog on a leash and he led them down into a deep gully Alec had been trying to avoid. Tough little plants lined a dry creek bed at the bottom. Alec sniffed the air, then plucked a sprig and nibbled carefully at one thin leaf.
    “I thought so! This is teawort. Chew it, and it will keep your mouth wet.”
    It tasted a bit like pine, a bit like rosemary, and made the spit well under their tongues, making the dry air easier to bear as they hoarded the last of their water.
    But Sebrahn didn’t let them stop for long. Taking Alec’s hand again, he continued on to where the gully let out onto a small valley.
    “Well, look at that!” Seregil exclaimed. Less than a mile on, they saw the warm, square glow of firelight through a window.
    As they came closer, they could make out the shape of a low stone cottage ringed with a stone enclosure. The wind carried the scent of water, and goats.
    “How could he have known that was there?” wondered Alec.
    Seregil gave the rhekaro a grudging smile. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s part divining rod.”
    They approached the place with caution, but all was silent.
    “Doesn’t anyone in Plenimar keep dogs?” whispered Alec.
    “They’re considered dirty creatures here, good only for coursing, and for fighting,” Ilar explained.
    “Fighting what?” asked Alec.
    “Each other, or slaves.”
    “Let’s hope they don’t keep that kind here,” said Seregil. “Ilar, keep quiet and follow our lead.”
    Skirting the house, they stole a few knobby turnips from a rocky garden patch and discovered a large, strong-smelling cheese in a covered bucket let down the well to stay cool. They pulled up the water bucket and drank thirstily, slaking their dry throats.
    Alec wiped his mouth on his sleeve, then looked around in alarm. “Where’s Sebrahn?”
    The rhekaro had stayed right beside him, as always. Now he was nowhere to be seen.
    “Shit!” Seregil pointed toward the house, where the front door now stood open, letting out a long bar of firelight. “Ilar, stay here. Alec, let’s go fetch your—him.”
    They stole up to the open door and peered inside.
    The house was a humble one, just a single room, with stretched skins on the walls and chunks of dried meat hung from the rafters. Apart from a few crude stools, there were no furnishings, and it appeared that the family had been asleep on pallets on the floor. Now a man and his wife and several small girls were sitting up among their blankets, staring in terror at Sebrahn.
    The rhekaro was kneeling beside the only occupied pallet. His headcloth had come off and his long hair fell in tangled disarray down his back. The ruddy light of the fire made it look more blond than white and lent his face a little color, but there was no mistaking his strangeness. The man made a sign against evil with two fingers and muttered the word “
urgha,
” thinking the rhekaro was a demon or ghost.
    A gaunt young woman lay on the pallet in front of Sebrahn. Seregil could hear her labored breathing from here, and smell the sickly-sweet odor of diseased flesh.
    As