Traitor's Moon

Bôkthersans, and didn’t bother the boats hidden in the surrounding forest. Seregil hoped that things hadn’t changed too much in his absence.
    Abandoning their exhausted horses, they made their way into the woods, looking for trails Seregil recalled from childhood. Alec was limping badly but refused Seregil’s supporting arm in favor of a makeshift walking stick.
    Aurënfaie might change little in fifty years, but forests did. Familiar as certain stretches of ground felt beneath his feet, Seregil couldn’t seem to locate any specific landmarks.
    â€œWe’re lost again, aren’t we?” Alec groaned as they came to a stop in what had turned out to be a blind gully.
    â€œIt’s been a long time,” Seregil admitted, wiping the sweat from his eyes. He could hear the sigh of the sea in the distance and struck out in that direction, praying that something came to hand. He was about to admit defeat when they stumbled across not one but two little boats hidden beneath a blowdown. They had been stored upside down, with masts and sails lashed to the thwarts below. Choosing the stronger-looking of the two, they dragged it through the trees to the water’s edge and set about rigging it to sail.
    Alec knew little of boats or sailing but followed instruction readily enough. Stepping the mast, Seregil wedged it solid and sorted out the single sail. It was a simple craft, the same sort that had greeted them when they sailed into Gedre harbor. Even so, it was tricky, securing everything by the glow of a lightstone.
    When it was ready, they hauled it out into the water and poled it away from the shore to deeper water with Alec’s stick.
    â€œLet’s see how much I remember,” Seregil said, settling at the tiller. Alec hauled the sail up and it caught the breeze, bellying out with a musty creak. The little craft came around nicely and plunged forward, cutting a V-shaped path across the smooth surface of the cove.
    â€œWe did it!” Alec laughed, collapsing in the bow.
    â€œNot yet, we haven’t.” Seregil scanned the dark expanse of sea spread out before them, wondering if Korathan would follow the usual sea-lanes and turn up where he was expected. They had no food and only enough water for a day or two if they drank sparingly. The only thing they had in abundance was time, and that would hang heavy on them indeed if they didn’t spot Skalan sails by tomorrow night.

45
U RGAZHI T RICKS
    B eka crouched in the brambles, ignoring the sharp thorns scraping her hands and face. She’d heard the horse coming in time to duck out of sight and wasn’t too choosy about the hiding place.
    Daylight was dying fast now. If she could elude her pursuer until nightfall, she might just manage to slip away, find another horse somewhere, and get back to Sarikali on her own terms.
    The ambush that morning had taken her captors completely off guard. After Nyal had left them at dawn, they had settled down for a leisurely breakfast, then tied her hand and foot on a horse and set off for the city.
    They’d treated her with respect—kindness, even—making certain her bonds were not cutting her wrists and offering her food and water. Playing along, she’d accepted their attentions, keeping her strength up and pretending not to understand their language.
    The leader, a young Ra’basi named Korious, did his best to reassure her in broken Skalan.
    â€œBack to Klia,” he said, pointing in what must be the direction of Sarikali.
    â€œTeth’sag?” she asked, pointing to herself.
    He shrugged, then shook his head.
    She went quietly to work on the wrist bindingsas they rode, complaining repeatedly about them being too tight. After one or two adjustments Korious had refused to loosen them any more, but by now she had slack enough to surreptitiously twist her wrists, getting her fingers close enough to one of the knots to pick away at it.
    It was a lucky thing she had. They hadn’t been more than two hours on the road when one of the other riders toppled from his saddle, blood streaming from his head. Horsemen burst from the trees just behind them, followed by men on foot with swords and clubs.
    Her escorts froze, too startled to react. Taking advantage of the momentary confusion, Beka gripped the saddlebow and gave her mount a hard kick in the sides. The horse leapt forward, finding its own way as it broke from the press and galloped wildly down the