Too Many Princes (34 page)

“
It's perfectly safe,
”
Yriatt said, when Lottres sat still too long.
“
No one is here.
”

“
Is this an Urulai village?
”
Lottres asked.

“
It is. The villagers came to stay with me after Shaelen warned them on her way to Altannath. No one has been here for two months.
”

Lottres seemed to relax, but Brastigan swung down from his mule.
“
If it's all the same to you, let's scout it out first.
”
He waved at Pikarus, and three others dismounted, following him. Brastigan didn't think he needed permission to scout, but it did feel good to be listened to for once.

Brastigan moved quietly through the woods, blessing the craftsmen who made his harness. Only the occasional squeak or heavy step betrayed them as they came up behind the settlement. First they passed a large dung heap, and then an oval of packed earth suggesting a rudimentary stable. Beyond that was the first of the tree-caves.

A long, rectangular hearth had been raised up of earth and river stones. It was much like the one of Hawkwing House, except smaller. Beside this was something new: a long granite stone. Its surface was pocked with mortar holes for grinding grain. Leather thongs dangled from the branches overhead. Those must attach some kind of roofing. A series of holes along the rear of the space suggested that tent pegs might have been driven into the soft ground.

It was well enough to shelter under the trees in summer, when the weather was warm, but the mountain winters were harsh. There had to be some other sort of dwelling for winter. Maybe the tribe wintered at Hawkwing House.

The troopers followed Brastigan through four of the shelters. All were alike except for trivial details. Tucked between the trees, they found a trio of light canoes concealed by branches. Brastigan felt like an intruder. This could have been his home, but now he didn't know if he had the right to step up to his ancestors' hearth.

There was no time to wallow in self-pity. He glanced at Javes and the others, confirming his opinion there was nothing significant to be discovered. They tramped back to their waiting fellows.

It galled Brastigan to say it, but he did.
“
She's right. There's no one here.
”

Pikarus asked,
“
Do we stay the night?
”

Lottres seemed to think about that.
“
There is free fodder for the mules.
”

The animals were looking thin, it was true, and the tree-caves were safe enough, but Brastigan knew he couldn't sleep here.

“
If there's daylight, I say we move on. We have places to be,
”
he said

Yriatt said,
“
Brastigan is correct. Let us go.
”

Before anyone else argued, Brastigan strode to his mule. As he passed the girl, he stopped. There, in her hand, was the trail bread he had given her. It hadn't been touched in all their hours on the road. What kind of creature was she? With a disgusted snort, he took it from her unresisting hand and tossed it into the brush.

The line was already starting to move as he swung into the saddle and kicked his beast into motion. Yriatt led off, following the curve of the meadow and keeping them under the eave of the trees. Brastigan felt strange as they passed the row of empty shelters. He was glad they weren't staying, and yet he felt that he was leaving something behind, as well. He stiffened his back and rode on.