Blade of Fortriu by Juliet Marillier Page B

what he could manage: loyalty and perfect work. Hence this mission. It might not be to his taste, but he would execute it perfectly. The women were doubtless weary of living rough, but they could not be allowed to endanger the party by lagging behind.
    They followed the riverbank as the sun slipped lower and the valley darkened. Here thefamiliar trees were joined by other, stranger ones whose twisting branches and clawing twigs stretched out across the path, scratching at horse and rider, seeking to slow their progress. The ground became slippery, the sward giving way to a slick, muddy surface; here it had already rained. Faolan pushed them on. They must cross this valley and get to higher ground. Only a fool would halt for thenight in such a spot.
    Once or twice the women fell back, and Faolan sent a man to hurry them forward. He held his tongue with some difficulty. If his anger showed in his face, so much the better. He hoped he would not need to spell it out for them: rain, a river in spate, a narrow defile in darkness. A welldefined track, wooded hills providing cover, a perfect spot for travelers to be ambushed.“Move!” he called again, and at the same time heard a shout from farther ahead. Wrad, who had gone forward to ensure the path was clear, was yelling, “The ford!”
    Around a bend the river broadened, dividing into four channels across a wide expanse of flat ground covered in stones. On the other side, the track snaked away up the hill under trees. They halted. Kinet, the tallest man, dismountedand waded across, one, two, three, four small rivers; he reached the other side wet only as far as his knees. Beyond the pines, the sun was setting. The sky was darkening toward dusk.
    “Forward,” Faolan said. “Take it slowly. Once you’re over, straight up that track to higher ground.” He looked around and saw the women’s ponies standing together; their riders had disappeared. He swallowed an oath.“Where—”
    “Just slipped into the woods,” a man-at-arms called Benard offered. “Think the young lady has a pain in the belly. Might be that hare we had last night; thought it was on the rank side.”
    “By all that’s holy,” Faolan muttered, making himself breathe slowly. “Wrad, you wait with me, the rest of you get on over and up, then find a campsite for tonight, it will be dark soon. Get a firegoing.”
    He and Wrad waited for what seemed an interminable time. Men, ponies, and pack animals crossed efficiently and disappeared up the track. The light dimmed still further. The stones of the ford were a pale gleam among shadows. By the time the women reappeared, Faolan was holding on to his temper by the merest thread. “Your sense of timing leaves a great deal to be desired,” he said. “Youwant to be left behind in these woods? Get back on your ponies! We must cross now, without delay.” As he spoke, Ana swayed, buckled at the knees, and collapsed onto the muddy ground beside her mount. Creisa, exclaiming in alarm, crouched down beside her, putting a hand to her brow.
    Faolan dismounted, addressed the serving woman sharply. “Is she sick? What is this?”
    Creisa’s tone was accusatory.“You shouldn’t have made her go on. You can’t treat a lady as if she were just another of your men-at-arms. She has cramps. And she’s tired.”
    “Cramps?”
    In the fading light Creisa’s face could be seen to flush red with embarrassment. “Women’s business. She’s one of those gets taken bad when her courses come on; at home, she’d likely be two days in bed at the very least. Delicate. A real lady.The pain’s fierce, not that you’d know. You shouldn’t have made her ride.”
    Ana lay limp, her head on the serving woman’s knee, her face a pale oval in the dusk.
    “She should have told me,” Faolan said.
    “How could she tell you?” hissed Creisa. “A lady doesn’t speak of such matters before men. I’d have said, but she wouldn’t let me. And now what, since you seem to have the