Dangerous Talents by Frankie Robertson Page A

and rest. He shouldn’t be jostled over the mountains. Dahleven wished he could let Sorn heal before forcing a march. If they could stay put just a day or two, that would give his friend a better chance to recover. But he didn’t have that choice. None of them did.
    Lady Celia stiffened and tried to push away. Dahleven let her, but kept one hand on her arm to steady her. Color had returned to her face and her eyes sparked with anger. She’s feeling better .
    “You’re going to move him? You can’t! He’s all torn up inside. He needs rest!” Lady Celia jerked her arm out of his grasp and stood stiff and rigid with anger. She seemed oblivious to the tears tracking through the dust on her face.
    Dahleven resisted the impulse to reach out and wipe the moisture away. He couldn’t afford tender feelings toward this woman. He didn’t know who she was or why she was here. Just because she’d come from Midgard didn’t mean she was benign. He believed her explanations, as Sorn believed her, but wiser men than they had been led astray by a pretty face. He had a responsibility to get his men and his information back to Quartzholm. He couldn’t afford to trust her, to give her a weapon by explaining that he would give almost anything to restore Sorn.
    “We haven’t got time for this.” Dahleven looked past her to Ghav. “We’ll move as soon as the litter is ready.” Then he turned away from the emotion on Lady Celia’s face.
    A moment later she grabbed his sleeve as she jumped in front of him. “Don’t you walk away from me! This is important! Sorn is seriously injured. Moving him now could kill him. Don’t you care about that? You have a responsibility to him!”
    Anger flashed hot and cold. Cold won. Dahleven grasped her wrist and pulled her hand from his shirt. He didn’t release her, but held firm and leaned close. His voice was tight and low with controlled rage. “Do not attempt to teach me my responsibilities, my lady. I know them better than you. Right now they include not allowing a larger party of Renegades to return and finish what these have begun.” Dahleven gestured broadly at the five bodies that lay across the wash from them.
    Two of the dead lay belly up. Blood from a mortal wound stained the chest of one and the rictus of death had begun to distort his face; another no longer had much of a face at all. A surge of satisfaction washed through Dahleven as Lady Celia glanced at the dead Tewakwe and she paled, but she didn’t wobble or faint. The anger in her eyes receded, but didn’t disappear entirely.
    Dahleven released her wrist. Her hand fisted tightly, as though she’d like to hit him, but she stood quite still, glaring at him.
    Fendrikanin coughed then said, “The litter is ready.”
    Lady Celia looked at Fender and the tension broke.
    Dahleven nodded. “Good. Let’s move.”
     
    *
     
    Cele was grateful that Dahleven set a slower pace than he had in the morning, but it was still difficult for the men carrying the litter. No one complained; they all wanted to be further away from Renegade territory.
    Movement took its toll on Sorn. Ghav stayed close, walking by the side of the litter when the way through the hills allowed it. He couldn’t shield Sorn from his pain entirely. The men carrying the litter did their best, but they climbed uneven ground and they couldn’t keep from bouncing him. Ghav dosed him with more of the herbs from his store, but a groan occasionally escaped Sorn’s lips when the going was particularly difficult.
    After one such jostle, Cele jogged forward till she came even with Dahleven. “Is this the easiest path…you can find?” she panted, out of breath. “This is too hard on Sorn. Couldn’t we move faster…and easier on the flat?”
    Dahleven glanced at her and shook his head. “Easier, but not faster—or safer. This way leads more or less directly to the pass we’re headed for. Going back down to the valley and then climbing back up would cost us time