“There’s always a choice, lady. Even if the choice is death.”
“That was no choice for you, Elsir. Macurdy is no friend of yours. You never saw him before.”
“And may I never see him again, for I have greatly wronged him.” He looked up at Liiset again. “I believe my people know more about the ylver than yours do. There are good and bad among them, but they’ve been much less evil to my people than humans have. Cyncaidh would not have made me do what your Dynast has.”
Liiset was touched by the tomttu’s courage in speaking as he had, and laid a light hand on his shoulder. “Believe me,” she said quietly, “the Dynast’s spy did follow her, all the way north. And her captor’s name is Cyncaidh. It was necessary that you lie a little.” While I told only the truth, the truth according to Sarkia, who lies when it suits her.
She helped Elsir move behind her, his long fingers clutching. When he was settled, she turned her horse and started back toward the North Fork Road. Macurdy had left with some intention in his mind, something that presumably would take a week, and she wondered what it was.
28: Truth
Macurdy unsaddled his mount at the paddock, and told the herd boss he wanted five strong horses readied for himself and one other by midafternoon, two with pack saddles; and oats for twelve days. He glanced upward in irritation as he spoke, for rain clouds were moving in. Then he strode to his headquarters tent, where one of his runners, a fourteen-year-old, jumped to his feet.
“Find Captain Tarlok. Tell him I need to see him right away.”
“Yessir!” the boy said, and took off at a trot. Macurdy fiddled briefly with supply records, occupying himself until Tarlok appeared. “Is there anyone in camp who knows the trails to the Granite Range, and the Dales?” Macurdy asked. “I need a guide, on a mission only I can do. For information.”
Tarlok frowned. “How long will you be gone?”
“Until I’ve learned what I need to know; it could be a dozen days or more. I’m leaving Jeremid in charge.”
Tarlok nodded. “Blue Wing could probably guide you.”
“He’s needed here to scout or courier for Jeremid.”
“Well then, there’s a lad named Fengal in my company, as good in the woods as any you’ll find. He’s only eighteen, but grew up wild. His mother is Indrossan, from someplace called Hemlock Cove. She died two years ago, and his dad came back to North Fork, bringing the lad with him.”
“Good. Have him sent here, with his horse, bedroll, and saddlebags.”
Tarlok nodded and got to his feet.
“Another thing,” Macurdy said, and told him to expect a courier from the Sisters. He was to lodge and treat the man as a semi-prisoner, treat him well but not allow him to talk with people. “I’m accepting him as a courier, not a spy,” Macurdy finished.
Tarlok acknowledged and left. Then Macurdy sent another runner to find Captain Melody and send her to his tent. His third runner he gave instructions that Fengal, when he got there, was to wait.
He was packing his saddlebags and bedroll when Melody arrived, her tunic rain-spotted. “What is it?” she asked.
“I’m going on a trip, with just a guide, and someone needs to know what I’m doing and why.” He paused. “The Sister I talked to told me where Varia is. Supposedly. Where she is and how she is.”
Melody nodded soberly.
“But I’m not sure how much of it I believe. She had a tomttu with her, to tell me part of the story, and both of them were lying part of the time.”
“Lying? How do you know?”
“When Arbel worked with me, I learned to see what he calls auras, like a cloud of colored light around a person. I can see yours right now. And with practice, if you see them clearly and you’re paying attention, you can tell when someone’s lying.”
Melody stared at him. “She told me Varia was captured by an ylf named Kincaid, and taken north into the empire—way north, to the Northern Sea. That part she believes, but the rest she’s not sure of. The tomttu said he saw her capture, and they both know that’s a lie, but at least he saw her.”