Crossroads and Other Tales of Valdemar

:I believe, mind-mate, I have found Kethry’s goal,: came the familiar voice in Tarma’s mind, at the same time that Kethry said, “By the feel of things, my target is—”

They rode up over a rise.

“—there,” Kethry finished.

It certainly looked that way. In the valley below, in what looked like a temporary camp, was a woman. A particularly ageless-looking woman with a relatively unlined face despite a coiled mass of silver hair fastened in place with pins, a little plump, but otherwise in very good physical shape. There was no way of telling what she was from her costume, a well-made set of brown riding leathers with a split skirt rather than breeches or trews. There were three horses with her, all with saddles. There were two ominous mounds of earth off to the side of the camp.

She looked up and spotted them at the top of the ridge line, and regarded them thoughtfully.

Tarma knew what she would see: sitting on a matched pair of ugly gray horses, big-boned and big-headed, were two women. The one in the buff-colored traveling robes (also with a split skirt) or a sorceress of the White Winds school, had a pretty, soft face, a mass of amber-colored hair pulled back into a tail—and the end of a sword sticking up over her right shoulder. The other, in the all-black leather and armor of a Shin’a’in Swordsworn, had the hawklike features, black hair, prominent nose, and golden-tanned skin typical of her race. Her hair had not yet grown out, and only brushed the tops of her shoulders; it was held in place by a leather headband to keep it out of her eyes. A sword hilt also protruded over her right shoulder, there was a quiver hanging from her left hip, a bow in a bow sheath at the saddle, and probably far more knives than the woman even dreamed possible both hidden and openly sheathed on Tarma’s person. Beside Tarma was Warrl, a kyree, a creature who came from this part of the world. About the size of a young calf, with a wolfish head, but a body more like that of one of the big, speedster hunting cats of the Dhorisha Plains, Warrl was a small army in and of himself.

Whatever was wrong, the woman did not appear to be in immediate danger. That was probably why Need hadn’t been prodding Kethry with the goad of pain into speeding down the road at a breakneck speed.

She also wasn’t intimidated by them. Which was interesting. Although there were not many female bandits, such things weren’t unknown. Which implied that, whoever or whatever she was, the woman thought she could handle herself against two armed people and a large and dangerous beast.

They looked down; she looked up. Finally, she spoke.

“So,” she said. “I don’t suppose you’re for hire?”’

They rode down the slope slowly. Tarma was all for saying “Yes!” then and there, but Kethry, for once, was more cautious. “What happened here?” she asked.

The woman sighed. “I’m on my way to keep an appointment with a—colleague. I had two temporary fighters with me. While I was off taking the horses to water them, I left them here to set up camp, and something attacked them, I heard the commotion, but by the time I got back here, it was too late.”

Tarma did not bother to ask “what,” because clearly if the woman had known, she would have told them.

“Signs?” she asked instead.

“Something large with a lot of teeth and claws,” she replied. “Magic; the aura was all over the place. And it didn’t want to face me, so magic probably was its one vulnerability.” She glanced away from them, up the road leading deeper into the Pelagirs. “I’ve been here before. That condition isn’t going to hold for long.”

Sensible, too. Once again, Tarma almost said. “we’re available” when Keth forestalled her.

“Conditions of employment?” she asked coolly.

Well, that was a change. Need’s prodding must be nothing but a little nag in the back of her head. The woman started to answer when Tarma’s stomach announced to the universe just how hungry she was.

The woman looked startled, then laughed.

“First condition is that I feed you,” she said, with a shrewd smile. “I’d much rather negotiate with the sleepy and satisfied than the lean and hungry,”

It was trail food: dried beef, bread you could drive a nail with.

Tarma didn’t care. At this point she would readily have broken teeth into order to get something to her stomach. Her stomach wasn’t objecting either. Negotiations and meal concluded about the same time; the woman drove a hard, hard bargain. Nothing up front; fee to be paid only at the conclusion of the journey.

On the other hand, what did they have to spend coin on out here? And finally they got their employer’s name. Nanca Jente. Sorceress who claimed no particular affiliation.

“How do you feel about riding in the dark?” Nanca asked, as they shook hands on the bargain. “Full moon tonight, and I’ve lost most a lot of time here.”