The pillars of creation

He nodded and confirmed her suspicion. "I've got a touch of fever. I came down with it this morning. When we get finished with this business I'm hoping to get to the next town and rest up in a dry room for a while. I just need some rest to regain my strength."

"Town is too far for you to make today."

"You sure? I can make good time. I'm used to traveling."

"So am I," Jennsen said, "and it takes me most of a day to make it. There's only a couple of hours of light left-and we have yet to finish with this task. Not even a fast horse would get you near town today."

Sebastian let out a sigh. "Well, I guess I'll make do."

He knelt again and rolled the soldier partway over in order to unstrap the knife. The sheath, fine-grain black leather, was trimmed with silver to match the handle and decorated with the same ornate emblem. On one knee, Sebastian held the gleaming, sheathed knife up to her.

"Silly to bury such a fine weapon. Here you go. Better than that piece of junk you showed me before."

Jennsen stood stunned and confused. "But, you should keep it."

"I'll take the others. More to my taste anyway. The knife is yours. Sebastian's rule."

"Sebastian's rule?"

"Beauty belongs with beauty."

Jennsen blushed at the intended compliment. But this was not a thing of beauty. He had no idea of the ugliness this represented.

"Any idea what the 'R' in the hilt stands for?"

Oh yes, she wanted to say. She knew only too well what it represented. That was the ugliness.

"It stands for the House of Rahl."

"House of Rahl?"

"Lord Rahl-the ruler of D'Hara," she said in simple explanation of a nightmare.

CHAPTER 3

By the time they were finished with the laborious task of covering the troublesome body of the dead D'Haran soldier, Jennsen's arms were weak with fatigue. The damp wind scything through her clothes felt like it cut to the bone. Her ears and nose and fingers were numb.

Sebastian's face was covered in a sheen of sweat.

But the dead man was at last buried under gravel and then rocks that were in abundance at the base of the cliff. Animals were not likely to be able to dig through all the heavy stone to get at the body. The worms would feast undisturbed.

Sebastian had said a few simple words, asking the Creator to welcome the man's soul into eternity. He made no plea for mercy in His judgment, and neither did Jennsen.

As she finished scattering gravel with a heavy branch and her feet, obscuring the marks left by their work, she gave the area a critical examination and was relieved to see that no one would ever suspect that a person lay buried there. If soldiers came through they wouldn't realize that one of their own had met his end here. They would have no reason to question local people, except, perhaps, to ask if anyone had seen him. That would be a simple enough lie to feed them and one easily swallowed.

Jennsen pressed her hand against Sebastian's forehead. It confirmed her fears. "You're burning with fever."

"We're done, now. I can rest more easily, not having to worry that soldiers will be rousting me out of my bedroll to ask me questions at the point of a sword."

She wondered where he was going to sleep. The drizzle was thickening. She expected it would soon be raining. Given the persistence of the darkening clouds, once it started it would likely rain the whole night. Cold rain soaking him to the skin would only further inflame his fever. Such a winter rain could easily kill someone who lacked proper shelter.

She watched as Sebastian strapped the weapons belt around his waist. He didn't place the axe at the small of his back the way the soldier had worn it, but rather positioned it at his right hip. After testing its edge and finding it satisfactory, he fastened the short sword to the left side of the belt. Both weapons were placed so as to come readily to hand.

When he'd finished he flipped his heavy green cloak closed over it all. He seemed again a simple traveler. She suspected he was more. He had his secrets. He wore them casually, almost in the open. She wore hers uneasily, and held close.

He handled the sword with the kind of smooth ease that came only with long acquaintance. She knew because she handled a knife with effortless grace, and such proficiency had come only with experience and continual practice. Some mothers taught their daughters to sew and cook. Jermsen's mother didn't think sewing would save her daughter. Not that a knife would, either, but it was better protection than needle and thread.

Sebastian lifted the dead man's pack and threw back the flap. "We'll divide the supplies. Do you want the pack?"

"You should keep the supplies and the pack," Jennsen said as she retrieved her stringer of fish.

He agreed with a nod. He appraised the sky as he cinched the pack closed. "I'd best be on my way, then."

"Where?"

His weary eyelids blinked at the question. "No place special. Traveling. I guess I'll walk for a while and then I suppose I'd better try to find some shelter.»