Act of Will by A. J. Hartley

the wagon, where the others were watching me silently, apprehensively.
    I climbed back up onto the wagon, and the others, as if in a daze, just stared.
    “What the devil did you say?” muttered Orgos.
    “Does it matter?”
    “Yes, actually.”
    “I used a little information that few people know,” I said, my eyes on the soldiers as they remounted their horses.
    As the soldiers walked out of earshot Garnet glared at me and said, “And how did you find out so much about Empire operations?”
    “Research,” I said. “I’m a writer.”
    “Not good enough,” said Garnet. “I’ve never heard of this Commander Liefson. How would you know that he headed up Section Four unless—?”
    “Because Harveth Liefson is a secret theatre fan and he goes to the Eagle in disguise every Saturday afternoon rain or shine,” I said. “He and I have shared many a pint together and he has, once or twice, confided rather more than he probably should.”
    Orgos was the only one who seemed content. Mithos’s eyes were cold and hard with suspicion. I smiled encouragingly but he just stared at me.
    The troops had turned their horses and, with a single gesture of his hand, their captain urged them back the way they had come at a slow trot. Mithos watched them go and then laid a strong hand on my wrist. His dark face and eyes only inches from mine, he whispered, “If you turn us in or lead us into a trap, Mr. Hawthorne, I swear I’ll run my sword through your heart before you can say my name.”
    I just sat where I was beside Orgos thinking vengefully that I should have turned them all in when I had the chance. I wasn’t entirely sure why I hadn’t.

    It was still light, but only just. We had seen nothing more of the Empire but couldn’t hope that my little ruse would hold them off for long. They might be back after us first thing in the morning, but I rather hoped old Harveth Liefson would cover for me for a few days. He had been quite a fan, and it really wasn’t in his interest to reveal how I had found out so much of his professional affairs. Liefson knew I was no rebel, and he was a decent sort of guy. No: there was no doubt that the Stavis garrisons would be on the lookout for us when we got there, but I doubted we’d have much trouble from the Empire on the road through the Hrof wastes.
    We pulled off the road into a glade of cedars and pines, as close to lush as we’d seen in twenty miles. We jumped down from the wagon—or rather Orgos jumped and I sort of fell—and immediately they were busy. Mithos’s attitude to me had changed again. That scary, watchful suspicion had vanished, or slid under a log like a snake.
    “Go and get some wood,” he said. “Nothing green and nothing too big. Just twigs and dead leaves for kindling. And don’t cut anything live. It kills the trees and it won’t burn.”
    “I know that. I’m not completely stupid,” I told him. “I don’t know why you want a fire anyway. It’s roasting out here.”
    “We need some hot water,” he answered tersely without looking up from the tent he was raising with Orgos. “Don’t you want to wash? Don’t you want a meal?” He paused to hammer a peg into the hard earth with a wooden mallet. “And don’t you want to keep the jackals and mountain lions at a safe distance?”
    He added that last one just to wind me up, as Orgos’s grin confirmed. The other two reasons would have been just fine.
    “Are there mountain lions around here?” I asked, trying to sound like I didn’t believe him and couldn’t care less either way.
    “Some,” he said. “Though they tend to move closer to water. This heat can really make them irritable.”
    “I’ve heard of massive mountain lions sighted round here,” Orgos added helpfully, “even in the summer. Real monsters. I heard of a guy who was camping out here and one came right into the tent and—”
    “All right, I’ll get the wood,” I said, and left.
    By the time I had got a good armful, dropped