Midwinter

"How on earth should I know? Watching you eat is too repellant an act to make a habit of it. Besides, I was busy being scolded by Nafaeel for succumbing to his shrew of a daughter."

"Certainly sounds like Silverdun," noted Gray Mave.

"As I was telling Raieve," the stranger said, "Faella did something to me. It's not a glamour. I can't remove it."

"If not a glamour, then what?" said Mauritane. "Some kind of spirit curse or hex?"

"I don't know," said the stranger, "but it's me, and we're in a hurry, so let's be on our way."

"Just a moment," said Mauritane. "I believe that you are who you say you are, but the nature of our mission requires proof."

"What about the horses?" said Satterly, after a moment's thought.

"How do you mean?" said Mauritane.

" Silverdun's horse should recognize his scent. If the curse, or whatever it is, altered his smell along with his appearance, then it's awfully subtle."

"I agree, but let's get away from the stable," said Mauritane. "I think we're beginning to draw attention."

Indeed, a few of the townspeople had stopped to watch the confrontation. Raieve dismissed them with an ugly look and Mauritane led them away from the stable, into a deserted square near the main spire.

Mauritane leaned close and whispered into Streak's ear. The horse shook his mane and nodded, whispering something back that only Mauritane could understand. Streak nuzzled Silverdun's roan, Adequate, and made a series of chuffing sounds.

"Hold out your hand," said Mauritane.

The man raised his hand to Adequate's nose, and the animal sniffed at it, licked it once. Adequate turned to Streak and let out a single low grunt.

"It's him," said Mauritane. "Or an amazing facsimile."

"Oh, please," said Silverdun. "If I were an imposter, why on earth would I do such a terrible job of copying my likeness? I don't even resemble myself!"

"Maybe you're very bad at illusions," said Satterly. "And this is an elaborate ruse."

"Are all humans as annoying as you?" said Silverdun, pulling his hair back and tying it with a bit of ribbon.

"I'm convinced," said Satterly.

"Enough," said Mauritane. "I'm assured that this is Silverdun. If we discover later that he is not, we're four and he is one. Until then, let's return to our mission. There is much to be done this morning."

"Is the deal arranged, Mauritane?" said Silverdun.

"It is. We're to meet a guard named Edi at the tavern."

"And you got the money from Nafaeel?"

"I did," said Mauritane, patting his sabretache. "And a good thing I got it last night, because this morning there's no sign of him. The entire troupe packed up and left town during the night."

"Really?" said Silverdun. "What a surprise."

The guard Edi was a thick-waisted career guardsman with a scruffy beard and not a single braid in his tousled hair. Mauritane was suspicious of him from the first, perhaps because he'd known a few of the guardsmen in Selafae who were willing to take a bribe, and he wouldn't have turned his back to a single one of them. Still, Edi was a necessary evil, and Mauritane had no choice but to deal with him. Thorough checks were being made at all of the city's exits; even the mestina couldn't have helped them leave.

"I can take you as far as the border," he said. "But if we meet any patrols en route, they'll require something in exchange for looking the other way as well." Edi slouched in his seat. A glass of wine sat on the table in front of him even though the morning bell had only just rung.

"We had a deal," said Mauritane. "One hundred in silver for your help. You never mentioned anything beyond that."

"The one hundred is for my help. Unfortunately, you'll need more than my help to make it out of Estacana today." He sighed. "But if you don't want togo…

"Fine," said Mauritane. "Just know that if there is any deception, my blade will find you first."

Edi whistled. "You must trust, sire. Without trust, where are we?"

* * * *

Edi led them out of the city through a wide-open aqueduct, a stone channel that began at the city's central cistern and meandered through the city, elevated on arched pilings, then cut through the city wall and into the farmland beyond. The horses splashed in knee-high frigid water, scared of the echoes that reverberated in the curved space.

A pair of guards stationed by the aqueduct's egress from the city paid them no attention as they passed through the opening in the wall, only nodding at Edi as he rode by. The high stone channel angled downward from the wall until it came even with the ground on a gradual slope. Here, high juniper bushes surrounded the aqueduct, and Mauritane could just make out farms beyond them, empty fields lying useless beneath a blanket of snow.

At a break in the shrubbery, Edi nudged his horse up the slope of the canal and through the juniper branches, motioning for them to follow him. They emerged onto a narrow path that skirted the fence line of the farmland, where the snow was broken by several sets of fresh tracks.