Call of the Herald by Brian Rathbone

Charger still
sidestepped and pranced, but Catrin maintained control. Soon they
were beyond the pass, and the way became easier again.
    "You've done well," Benjin said, and Wendel
nodded his agreement. From the two of them, it was high praise and
Catrin beamed.
    When they reached the cold caves, they found
it was among the few places not still mired in fog. The main
entrance was invisible until one reached the rock face where it
hid. Between two mighty slabs of stone stood a chasm just wide
enough for a horse--but nothing larger--to fit through. Benjin tied
Charger to a stake they had driven in the stone many years
before.
    "Benjin and I will load the wagon," Wendel
said. "Most of what we're after today is heavy. Go back to our
personal stores and get what you would like to have for your
camping trip."
    Catrin wasted no time. Without another
thought, she was bounding through caves, passing through the
network of corridors that were like old friends. There were some of
the deeper tunnels that Catrin had never really liked, but she had
most of the place memorized. When she reached the area her father
reserved for their storage, she sifted through and grabbed what she
thought the others would enjoy as well.
    After loading her supplies in the wagon, she
did her best to help her father and Benjin. Despite the hard work
and the sweat that ran into her eyes, it was the most fun she'd had
in quite some time. Only the strange looks from those to whom they
made deliveries threatened to spoil her mood, but most of the
people they saw were friends of her father's and none treated her
with anything but kindness--albeit awkward kindness. For Catrin, it
was good enough. Only at the end of the day, as darkness began to
creep back over the land, did her fears return. The hairs on the
back of her neck stood as she passed by a thicket of trees bathed
in shadows; the feeling of being watched was almost overwhelming.
Catrin was barely able to resist the urge to push Charger for more
speed, but she knew the horse had put in a full day's work, and it
would be unfair to ask more of her. The ill feelings persisted, and
Catrin hoped that Benjin and her father did not sense her fear.
     
    * * *
     
    Miss Mariss heard all the gossip; she knew
where in her inn to be if she wanted to hear the conversation at a
specific table. Much of the inn had been designed around this
purpose, though most would never have guessed it. Simple things,
such as a knothole in the common room floor that continued through
a bored-out log all the way to the cellar, made her task a great
deal easier. Her exceptional hearing gave her the advantage of
being able to attend to the work of running her inn, all the while
collecting valuable information.
    Whether Catrin was the Herald of Istra or not
remained to be proven in Miss Mariss's mind, but either way there
would be much work to do. Everyone in Harborton was tense and
afraid, and that alone had far-reaching effects. If it turned out
that incident in the clearing was simply a freak occurrence, she
would be just as happy, though she knew Catrin would never escape
the stigma. Still, that seemed far better than the alternative--far
better indeed.
     
    * * *
     
    Anticipation drove Catrin from her sleep
earlier than usual. She had been looking forward to this day, and
it was finally upon her. She dressed while reviewing her mental
list, making sure she had not overlooked some important detail. Her
tinderbox and extra clothes were already packed, and she added some
dried fruit, smoked beef, and salted fish to her backpack. A trip
to the cold cellar yielded a bottle of springwine and waxed cheese
she had brought back from the cold caves. Her bedroll wrapped in
her leather ground cloth and secured atop her backpack, she
wondered what it was she was forgetting; there had to be
something.
    Her morning chores needed to be finished
before she left, and she had asked the boys to give her until
daylight. Still, she was not completely