Plain Kate

At the cat’s voice, the basket woman drew her breath in with a sound like a sword unsheathing. But she said nothing.

Plain Kate picked up Taggle.“We have to get out of the city.”

“Aye,” said the basket woman, who was tying the turban tight across Drina’s ear. “Get out and don’t come back.” She fingered the notch in her own ear. “Marked so, little one.” Drina clung to her and hid her face from Kate.

Kate stood helplessly a moment, listening to the silent street and looking at the ruin of Drina’s black hair. “I’ll go,” she offered. “To the market of the animals. I’ll get Behjet. And your father.”

“Don’t look at me,” said Drina.

So Kate took Taggle, and she went.

EIGHT THE BOG CAMP

Plain Kate found Behjet and Stivo in the market of the animals and stammered out enough of the story to send Stivo running. Kate started to follow him, but Behjet seized her by the shoulder to stop her. His hands trembled a little, but he kept his movement calm as he slid a saddle onto the dray colt. They mounted together, with Behjet behind and Kate squeezed between him and the horse’s pulsing neck. They rode out of Toila easily, so as to draw no eyes. But when they passed the city gates they went at a gallop.

Given his head, the horse half reared, and jolted forward. Kate grabbed at his mane until the coarse hair cut into her fingers. The horse pounded under her. The road blurred. Her basket—with Taggle in it—banged at her knee. Behind her she could feel Behjet breathing hard. His arms struck her ears and the reins whipped her hair. Still, she risked leaning out and looking backward.

“No one’s following—” she shouted, her voice ripped away by the speed.

“Not yet,” said Behjet. “If they get to talking—if they remember she’s a Roamer girl—well. Everyone will know she didn’t come to Toila alone.

The Roamers were already striking camp when they arrived. Behjet reined in Xeri, who stamped. One of Daj’s daughters came fluttering up to them. “They’re here. Daj is with her, in the redvardo. Stivo too.”

“Is Drina much hurt?” Behjet asked. Kate leaned down to hear over the horse’s panting.

“Her ear, and a tooth or two—but nay. Stivo’s in a weeping rage.”

Behjet nodded. His arms around Kate were roped with tight muscles, spattered with mud.“We’ll go ahead. We must find someplace at least a little off the road.” He nudged Xeri with his heels, and the horse snatched backward at Kate, snapping. “Tell Daj I’ll lay a blaze.”

The Roamer woman nodded.“Do you think—are they coming? Those that hurt her? Or the watch?”

But Behjet kicked the horse and they took to the road without answering.

***

Behjet got the ill-trained horse under control and they rode on more slowly. Every few hundred yards Behjet would pick a birch and slash a quick mark into the white bark: the blaze he promised. To stay close to the trees, they went splashing through the drainage trench at the edge of the road. They didn’t speak; Kate tried to gather her breath and think.

In Samilae it had been her the witch-hunters wanted.It is your trouble and you must not bring it upon us, Rye Baro had said. And Stivo:Do not bring it on my Drina. But she had. In letting Drina try to help her, she had made her friend a target of the mob. Behjet didn’t know enough to blame her, but Drina did—and Stivo would, even without knowing that he should. She should say something to Behjet, but it was hard to know what.

Taggle had worked his head out of Kate’s pack-basket, just in time to get a face full of water as Xeri hit a deep spot in the ditch.

Taggle ducked down with a yowl, and Behjet chuckled.“You’d swear he could talk. That sounded like a curse. Sorry, cat.” Deeper water raised another splash, soaking Kate’s leggings and raising a muffled ruckus in her basket. Behjet twitched the reins and the horse’s shoulders bunched and surged under her. They clambered out of the ditch andonto the road. “Bit damp, that,” said Behjet. “This rain is endless.”

“They…” Kate gathered her breath, “They won’t really come after us? They weren’t searching, in the town.”

“Most likely not. But people get odd ideas in the twilight. Sometimes dark stories take their hearts. And that town’s in trouble.” Behjet guided Xeri closer to the edge of the road. An egret exploded from the ditch, and the horse reared and wheeled. He turned three tight circles before Behjetcould calm him. The man leaned far forward to stroke the horse’s ear and murmured. Kate could smell his sweat and feel his heat pressing into her. It was strange, being that close to another person.

Behjet eased the horse forward again.“They’re talking at Pan Oksar’s farm—but it’s worse in that market. The harvest is failing. There will be no crop at all if this rain doesn’t stop—not even hay.”

The rain. The rain she’d been so grateful for, the rain that concealed the warping of her shadow. It was going to kill people.

“But,” said Behjet, and let the thought hang. Plain Kate could feel the tension in his body at her back. Xeri’s hooves squelched and splatted in the mud.