They halted at the edge of the open and Moira surveyed the cloud-flecked sky uneasily.
“Nothing,” she sighed. “Now listen, Sparrow. We cannot go around because there are bogs above and below. We must cross and do it quickly, lest we be seen. Once we start we must not stop.” She looked him over critically. “We will rest now.”
Moira knelt, scanning the meadow and the sky above it while Wiz caught his breath.
“Moira?”
“What?” She did not stop searching the meadow.
“We’re being chased, right?”
“That is why we are running.”
“Well then, can I ask a dumb question?”
“Of course,” the hedge witch said in a tone that indicated he had been doing nothing else.
“Why are we being chased? What did we do?”
“We did nothing. It is you they want, Sparrow, and they want you because Patrius Summoned you at the cost of his own life.”
“Yeah, but why?”
“We do not know that, Sparrow.”
“Do they know?”
“I doubt it.”
Wiz shifted slightly. “Well, if you don’t know and they don’t know then why the bloody—heck—are they chasing us?”
“They hope to learn from you what Patrius’s aim was.”
“But I don’t know either!”
Moira snorted. “I doubt they will take your unconstrained word for that, Sparrow.”
“Look, I don’t want any part of this, okay? Can’t we talk to them? Isn’t there some way I can prove I don’t know anything and then they can leave me alone.”
“Sparrow, listen to me,” Moira turned to him. “The Dark League of the South is not interested in your innocence or guilt. The fact that Patrius Summoned you is enough to make them want you. Probably they want to squeeze you for the knowledge we both know you do not possess. Possibly they simply want you dead or worse.”
Moira laid her hand on his. “But either way, Sparrow,” she said gravely, “if you are given a choice between the worst death you can imagine and falling alive into the hands of the League, do everything in your power to die.”
Wiz dropped his eyes from her intense stare. “I get the picture.”
“Good.” She turned back to the clearing and checked the ground and sky again. “Then make ready. We will not try to run because the ground is boggy, but walk quickly!”
Moira rose and moved into the clearing with Wiz on her heels. The thigh-high grass whisked against their legs as they walked and the soil squished beneath their feet. Unlike the forest, the meadow was rich with life. Insects buzzed and chirped, frogs croaked or plonked into puddles as they went by. Dragonflies flitted by and once a yellow-and-black butterfly circled their heads.
In spite of the sunshine and wildlife, Wiz wasn’t cheered. Except for an occasional bush, the travellers were the tallest things in the meadow. He felt like a large and very conspicuous bug on a very flat rock, and the further they got from the suddenly friendly line of trees, the more nervous he became.
Moira was feeling it too. She pushed ahead faster, her head turning constantly. She dared not use active magic, but she listened as hard as she could for any sign of others’ magic.
Suddenly Moira dropped in her tracks. She went down so quickly that Wiz thought she had tripped.
“Get down!”
she hissed and Wiz sprawled in the wet dirt beside her.
“What?” Wiz whispered.
“Something in the air of to our left. No, don’t look! The flash of your face might betray us.” After a second she bobbed her head up for a quick look.
“Fortuna!” she breathed. “It is searching the area. All right, see that tree ahead of us?” She nodded towards a big bush a few yards up the trail. “When I give the signal, crawl to it. Understand?” Again her head bobbed up. “Now!”
On hands and knees they crawled for what seemed to Wiz to be an eternity. He dared not raise his head, so all he saw was a narrow strip of wet black earth and green grass stems on each side. By the time he pulled up under the bush he was panting, and not entirely from exertion.