Dagger's Point (Shadow series) by Anne Logston Page A

maybe even the person who cast the hinder-spell. So we’ll stay behind the caravan, and if there’s any trouble, we’ll ride like there’s a dragon chasing us in the other direction. Hopefully the highwaymen won’t bother chasing us when they have a whole caravan to loot.”
    “Shouldn’t we help defend the caravan?” Jael asked doubtfully.
    “Jaellyn, they’re not paying us to be guards,” Tanis told her firmly. “And I’d be very, very happy if we never had to draw our swords from now until we get back to Allanmere. Do you think either of us is skilled enough to fight a band of murderous brigands?”
    Jael sighed. Her mother would have gladly matched her sword against any twenty brigands, and Aunt Shadow would have slipped away unseen while pocketing the choicest valuables from caravan and robbers alike, but Jael and Tanis would run like frightened rabbits, five Moons the poorer and nothing gained.
    A slow drizzle began around noon, but to Jael’s irritation, Tanis insisted that they stay with their horses instead of riding in the comfort of the wagon. By the time the caravan stopped for the evening, Jael was cold, wet, stiff, sniffling, and absolutely furious. The drizzle continued, driving the merchants into their wagons for shelter. Despite the cold, if the dry spot under the proffered wagon had been wide enough, Jael would have gladly placed her bedroll far from Tanis. Tanis was in no better mood than she, and they hunched silently in their shelter mopping up stew with half-stale bread. Jael listened sourly as the merchant in the wagon over their heads made certain sounds indicating that he was not alone.
    “Is the potion High Lord Argent gave you working?” Tanis asked at last.
    “Not yet,” Jael said shortly. She wiped her nose on her sleeve. The merchant and his doxy became more vigorous, causing the wagon to shake.
    Tanis glanced upward, grimaced, and poured himself another cup of wine.
    “I’m sorry you got wet and chilled,” he said irritably. “But are you going to sulk about it all night?”
    “That depends,” Jael said sourly. “Are you going to make me sleep out in the rain, too?”
    “Don’t tempt me,” Tanis retorted. “I’m not going to apologize again. I really thought there might be danger. I suppose I dodged when I should have parried. It’s happened to you once or twice, too.”
    Jael had to grin at that.
    “You mean once or twice in the last two days, don’t you?” she said, relenting. “I suppose even a bad case of the sniffles doesn’t quite pay me back for demon-scratches, does it?”
    Tanis touched his tunic where it covered the five scars puckering the skin of his right shoulder.
    “They ache in this weather, too,” he said proudly.
    Jael reached for her pack.
    “You should’ve said something sooner,” she told him. “I have a salve that’s good for aches that aren’t in the bone. Take off your tunic and shirt and I’ll rub some of this in.”
    Tanis winced a little as he pulled his tunic over his head, and Jael raised her eyebrows in surprise. In the little more than a year since he had left the priesthood and become an apprentice thief, Tanis had lost his acolyte softness and developed a thief’s lithe, wiry musculature. The five angry white furrows started just below the collarbone on the left side of Tanis’s chest, crossed the point of his shoulder, and tapered off at his back. Jael remembered the ferocity of the demon who had given Tanis those marks, and shivered. He’d been lucky not to lose his arm—or his life.
    Tanis sighed contentedly as Jael rubbed the pungent-scented salve over his shoulder, working the unguent into his skin with practiced fingers. She’d have to remember to thank Mist, who had tutored her in every aspect of trail medicine, and Shadow, who had taught Jael the art of rubbing the soreness out of muscles. At least it was a way of passing time other than lying there and listening to the merchant and his bed companion shake