“The dwarves are on their way,” the bird said. “Tossi sent me to tell you. Where are the others?”
“In the woods, up the creek a little ways.”
“Have you slept?”
“A little bit.”
“Humans are strange! Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when they get here.”
He didn’t need to urge them. They lay down again where they were, backs to the sun, letting it warm them. It didn’t much make up for the cold, hard ground, but they quickly fell asleep again.
The next time Blue Wing wakened them, Macurdy could see the dwarves coming, a quarter mile south down the road, Jeremid riding a little ahead as if impatient. Their pack animals trailed behind, along with three new horses. Macurdy waved, getting their attention, then he and Melody scrambled down the side of the ridge and led them to the rebels, who still slept beside cold fires.
While Macurdy and Melody stacked a new fire, Tossi brought out a huge summer sausage, along with some potatoes that weren’t too badly sprouted. The activity had wakened most of the rebels, who watched impressed as Macurdy lit the fire. They’d seen him do it the night before, but they’d been half unconscious then; it could have been a dream.
“Are you part ylf?” Wolf asked.
Macurdy laughed. “I used to be a shaman’s apprentice. Learned to start fires and kill bugs in the bedding. That’s pretty much it.”
They seemed comfortable with that.
Now Macurdy raised his face. “Blue Wing!” he shouted. “Blue Wing!” The rebels looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Huh! I hope he hasn’t flown off out of hearing.” Not many seconds later, the great raven landed in a tuliptree, perching on a branch about sixty feet overhead.
“What do you want, Macurdy?”
“We need to find a band of men. Rebels. There’ll be quite a few of them, and they’ll be armed. Men that may resemble the men we found with the dwarves a few days ago.”
Blue Wing didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Can you tell me more? What direction? Anything?”
Macurdy looked at Verder. “What can you tell him?”
Verder stared impressed at the big bird. “I suppose they’ll be somewhere north and west of here not many miles. Probably where there’s open ground with grass for the horses; a burn maybe, a year or two old. There’s likely to be lean-tos and tents.”
Blue Wing didn’t ask for clarification on “not many miles.” Probably, Macurdy thought, he’d taken it to mean not too far away. The great raven launched from the branch, big wings thrusting, lifted through a gap in the forest roof and out of sight.
He was back in half an hour to describe a camp he’d found. “I’ll bet that’s it,” Verder said.
They got on their horses, three of the rebels riding bareback. (The innkeeper had been unwilling to sell any of his saddles; the saddle makers in Gormin Town might have burned out the night before, and he didn’t know when he could get more.) Over the next hour the bird guided them west and north, then landed in a tree. “Macurdy!” he called, “it’s only a short way farther. Leave the ridge and follow the draw on your right. You’ll come to a large grassy area.”
“Thanks!” Macurdy called back, then turned to Verder. “They’re not going to know us. Could there be any trouble?”
“I don’t know why. They ought to welcome volunteers.”
Macurdy’s eyes scanned down the line of horses and ponies. “String your bows,” he said, and waited while the dwarves dismounted to draw their braided wire crossbow cords.
He followed Blue Wing’s directions then, and in the draw found a well-used trail. Before long they were challenged. He stopped, and a sentry came out on foot, sidling toward him, bow half drawn. “Who are you?” the man asked. “What are you doing here?”
“We came up to join, if we like the look of things.”
Another voice called from out of sight behind a thicket. “Kahl, take them to Orthal. He’ll decide what to do with them. And you! Strangers! All of you off your horses! On foot!”