rubbed at a scratch on her cheek, she came away with blood on her sleeve. Her back ached in at least two places. She thought of her petty concern over the sword bruise on her backside; she wouldn't be anything so pretty to look at now, she guessed, though it didn't seem as important anymore. She started back through the trees toward the road.
* * *
“Someone ahead, Captain,” the lead rider shouted back. Grear followed his line of sight. Three figures moved about in the road just at the bend. He pulled his horse up and ordered his men left toward the edge of the road, then waited until all five of them had come in line. Without the clamp of hooves and the rustle of battle dress, he could hear the metal ping of clashing sword blades, and he realized what the movement was about.
“Our friend Kaafk said she'd be alone,” Grear said, mostly thinking out loud.
The man nearest to him shrugged. “Maybe it isn't her?”
“He did say she might be followed, which would explain at least a part of this mystery.”
“If it be her, do we kill them all?”
Grear frowned. He had never taken a job quite like this before: payment in bits and pieces, no clear idea who he was ultimately working for, killing children. The entire arrangement had been conducted by a messenger sent to Ikaydin with a good deal of gold and just enough information—sent specifically to seek Grear out and bring him to southern Ariman. Since his work in the Dokany Wars, he had enjoyed a reputation as a trustworthy assassin, but he hadn't realized his name had come to command such a price!
The order to kill the king's daughter had come from a man who met them near the seaward swamps just south of Bail, a velvet and silk merchant calling himself Kaafk, and someone Grear did not especially care for. The merchant seemed a coldblooded man, even a
* * *
“Someone ahead, Captain,” the lead rider shouted back. Grear followed his line of sight. Three figures moved about in the road just at the bend. He pulled his horse up and ordered his men left toward the edge of the road, then waited until all five of them had come in line. Without the clamp of hooves and the rustle of battle dress, he could hear the metal ping of clashing sword blades, and he realized what the movement was about.
“Our friend Kaafk said she'd be alone,” Grear said, mostly thinking out loud.
The man nearest to him shrugged. “Maybe it isn't her?”
“He did say she might be followed, which would explain at least a part of this mystery.”
“If it be her, do we kill them all?”
Grear frowned. He had never taken a job quite like this before: payment in bits and pieces, no clear idea who he was ultimately working for, killing children. The entire arrangement had been conducted by a messenger sent to Ikaydin with a good deal of gold and just enough information—sent specifically to seek Grear out and bring him to southern Ariman. Since his work in the Dokany Wars, he had enjoyed a reputation as a trustworthy assassin, but he hadn't realized his name had come to command such a price!
The order to kill the king's daughter had come from a man who met them near the seaward swamps just south of Bail, a velvet and silk merchant calling himself Kaafk, and someone Grear did not especially care for. The merchant seemed a coldblooded man, even a