The Shadowhand Covenant by Brian Farrey Page B

for the cliff face. It’s a natural camouflage and would give the Sarosans a tactical advantage in case of attack. We could head straight there through that clearing, but we’re taking the long way around. What do you suppose that means?”
    Maloch rolled his eyes. “You think too much, Jaxter. It doesn’t mean anything.”
    Maybe. Maybe not.
    As I predicted, after winding our way through more whistlebirch, we arrived at the cliff face just as the final rays of sunlight dwindled on the horizon. Maloch and I were tied to a tree while the Sarosans erected their portable homes by torchlight. Within an hour, it looked very much like the underground camp. As dinner was served, Maloch and Iwere brought to a campfire, where we joined the others.
    As the Sarosans prayed, they passed around baskets of bread and cheese, the traditional evening meal. However, the food was sent around Maloch and me. Before Maloch could protest, the woman who’d cut my hair—who I’d learned was named Surral—arrived with plates of bread and cheese, which she handed to us.
    â€œThis is yours,” she said.
    Maloch was so hungry he dug right in. I was a little more cautious. Why did we merit special plates? Because we were guests? Outsiders? But I reminded myself that if they wanted to kill us, they could do it at any time, so I popped a hastily made cheese sandwich into my mouth. Both the bread and the cheese tasted bitter. I guessed when you lived like the Sarosans, you couldn’t be picky about your food.
    I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up to find Kolo. “Jaxter, come with me.”
    Without another word, he moved away from the circle. I shrugged at Maloch, picked up my plate, and followed. Kolo led me back to his tent, butted up against the cliffs at the back of the camp. He’d wasted no time making himself at home. A long table on the far side was covered with familiarequipment: mortar and pestle, scales, small glass jars filled with exotic plants and unidentifiable fluids. It was like being back in the Dowager’s laboratory. A black quill and a messy stack of parchment dangled half off the edge of the table. A small cauldron hung over a fire in the center of the room, its sweetly odorous contents bubbling gently.
    Kolo dipped his finger into the cauldron, gave the liquid inside a taste, and nodded approvingly. “Just a moment,” he said, stirring the kettle. “Need to finish this batch of tincture.”
    I looked at the top parchment page on the table. It was messy with notations: sentences underlined, words struck through, notes in the margins. My breath caught when I realized: I was witnessing the creation of a new formula !
    Kolo took a jar labeled ICECLOVERS and dropped a few of the transparent, three-leafed weeds into the kettle. I knew little about iceclovers. They were rare, popping out of the ground only after a fresh snowfall. I couldn’t wait to see what uses he’d found for them.
    He submerged a cloth into the cauldron, then wrung out an excess of milky white liquid. Reaching up under his long sleeve, Kolo rubbed the damp cloth on his arm. At first, hewinced, but after a moment, he clearly felt better. He put more tincture on his other arm, then sat across from me.
    â€œWonderful stuff, iceclovers,” he said, holding up one of the clear-leafed plants. “Many medicinal purposes. Soothing for these weary bones.”
    He turned to the stack of parchment and made a notation with his quill. “How are you and young Mr. Oxter doing?”
    â€œBangers,” I said. “Accommodations are cozy but clean, cuisine is imaginative, the staff”—I scowled in my best imitation of Reena—“surly but helpful. I’ll be sure to recommend you for future kidnappings.”
    Kolo stifled a laugh as he ladled the remaining tincture from the kettle and sealed it into a small wooden jar. “For someone who’s been kidnapped,