Jill Williamson: To Darkness Fled

"Both, likely." Sir Gavin's paddle dipped into the water and the boat lurched against more twiggy branches. "He's a Kingsguard soldier, so he'll go where he's sent. But he's also Macoun's man. If Macoun can't have you, he'll still want Vrell back. Bah!" The paddle clattered to the floor of the boat. "This won't do."

"He's a horrible man," Sparrow said.

Achan tried to talk without moving his jaw. "Macoun?"

"Oh, him as well, but I meant Khai. He tried to kill me."

Achan wanted to hear this tale, but Sir Gavin spoke. "We need to make camp. Caleb and I will tow the boat in as far as we can, then we'll leave the boat and wade the rest of the way."

"But still we are being on the wrong side of the lake," Inko said.

"And we'll all get leeches." Sparrow squawked, as if his voice was finally changing.

Achan smirked. Maybe the boy would finally grow into his boots. "What? The herbalist has no use for leeches?"

Sparrow's voice fell. "Bloodletting is not one of my skills."

"We must be crossing the lake first." Inko's worry never ceased. "Tsaftown is being north."

"Is it really? North, you say?" Sir Caleb's tone brought a hush over the boat. "You think Gavin has forgotten where he grew up?"

"Of course that's not what I'm-"

"Then have a little faith, Inko," Sir Caleb said. "King Axel didn't make Gavin commander for his handsome face."

The silence lingered. Achan propped his elbows on his knees and set his forehead in his palms. He'd known Inko and Sir Caleb for two days. They never agreed. Inko risked nothing, trusted no one, and questioned everything. Sir Caleb, on the other hand, was game for pretty much anything. How in all Er'Rets had these men served together year after year?

His left cheek twinged. He fought the urge to scratch under the bandage Sparrow had wrapped around his head and chin. He must look like a man with a toothache. The memory of Esek drawing Owr's sharp edge across his cheeks filled his mind's eye, and he gritted his teeth.

"Did you really grow up in Tsaftown?" Sparrow asked.

"Aye."

Perhaps Sir Gavin knew Lady Tara? Achan pushed the useless thought away. Sir Gavin had never been one to open up, as Sparrow would soon discover. Achan shivered. The Evenwall had left his clothing damp. What would they do come night? How would they even know when night arrived?

At least he had one change of clothes. The shirt and doublet Gren had made him were in Sir Caleb's pack. No point changing now if they were going to wade. He clenched his teeth through another shiver and hugged himself.

"I feel as though my blood is freezing." Sparrow echoed Achan's thoughts. Had the boy read his mind? Achan still couldn't tell when someone was in his head. He really wanted to learn that trick.

"Wait until we reach Ice Island," Sir Caleb said. "It's so cold your beard will frost."

Achan laughed, and the wounds on his cheeks throbbed. "Hear that, Sparrow? You best get started on that beard or you'll have nothing to warm that chubby face."

"And your beard is so much better?"

Achan tried to sound wise despite the awkward lull his wounds gave his voice. "I've never tried for a beard, but I'm sure I could grow one if these men would stop shaving me. You, however, haven't even the fuzz of a peach on your chin."

"We'll stop shaving you now," Sir Caleb said. "We'll all need beards for Tsaftown, for warmth and disguise."

Inko exhaled a deep breath. "Gavin, be assuring me you're having more of a plan than to be traipsing across Darkness."

"We head for Mirrorstone. We need supplies."

"Mirrorstone?" Achan spun toward Sir Gavin's voice, his movement rocking the boat. "Is not Lord Eli loyal to Prince Gidon?" He cleared his throat. "I mean, Prince Esek?" He'd never get used to it. The man he'd always known to be Prince Gidon Hadar was actually Esek Nathak. And he-Achan-was the prince: Prince Gidon. So strange.

"Don't call him 'prince,'" Sir Caleb said. "He's a fake and usurper who doesn't deserve the respect."

"Regardless," Inko said, "Mirrorstone is lying on the south side of the lake. We need to be crossing Arok Lake, to be going north. The longer we're lingering, the more time we're allowing those Kingsguard soldiers to be-"

"Can we discuss this later?" Sir Caleb said. "I'd really like to get these leeches off me."

Sir Gavin sighed. "Back into the water then, Caleb. The rest of you might as well ride 'til we get a bit closer."

The boat rocked, leather scraped over wood, branches cracked, water splashed. Then the boat jerked forward. Sparrow fell backward off his bench into Achan's lap and squeaked like a mouse. Achan laughed and groped for the boy's arm to help pull him up, but Sparrow swatted him and scrambled away.

Achan ignored the boy's antics. "How do they even know where they're going?" He paused at the throb in his cheeks. "I can see as well as any of them, and I see nothing."

"But Sir Gavin is not using only his eyes. He can be smelling the trail like a wolf," Inko said. "Though I'm fearing he should be crossing the lake now."

Achan had never trusted his life to a man's sense of smell. He'd always assumed Sir Gavin's Great Whitewolf title came from his mismatched eyes and long white hair. But maybe the man had a wolf's sense of smell too. Regardless, Achan would rather be with Sir Gavin than anyone else. Except maybe Prince Oren, his uncle. All his life Achan had been a stray: a slave without any family to claim him. Lower even than a slave. Now that he found he had an uncle and cousins, Achan wanted to know them. He fingered his uncle's signet ring on his left middle finger.

A crown, however, Achan did not want.

The knights towed the boat inland. Branches scraped the sides and scratched Achan's arms if he wasn't careful to stay seated in the center. After hundreds of broken branches and dozens of mosquito bites, the boat grated to a stop.

"You all climb out now." Sir Gavin's voice came from Achan's left. 'Tis quite swampy, so keep your feet moving."

"This is insanity," Sparrow said, seized with a bout of his bossy nature. "How can you even know where you are going? You could be wading in a circle."

"Gavin is the best guide in Er'Rets," Sir Caleb said. "Plus, I've tied a rope to Gavin and each of us will hold on. That should keep us together. If you don't like it, you and Inko may take your chances in the boat. But, Your Majesty, you don't get a choice. Come down next. Put your sword over your shoulder to keep it dry. And take care, the lake bed is quite mucky."

Achan unbuckled his belt, wrapped the leather band over his head and one arm, and fastened it so his sword- Eagan's Elk-hung down from his front right shoulder. He swung one leg over the side, the boat tipped, and he fell sideways into frigid water. In his panic, he took in a mouthful of putrid, slimy water before his boots sank into the sludge.

"You all right, Your Majesty?" Sir Caleb asked.

Achan spat, clearing the bitter taste from his mouth. "Aye." He patted Eagan's Elk to make sure it hadn't fallen off his shoulder. So much for keeping it dry. The water rose to his chest. An icy chill clapped onto his body. His muscles ached from endless shivering. Were leeches already biting his flesh?

A cold hand gripped Achan's shoulder and something stiff pressed against his chest. "Take the rope," Sir Caleb said into Achan's right ear. "There should be a knot."

Achan felt the coarse rope until his fingers found the knot. He clutched it in his right hand and tried to remain calm, though the blackness made it difficult. This must be what a blind man experienced daily.

"Inko? Vrell? Made up your mind?" Sir Caleb asked.

"Of course we'll be going with you." Though Inko's tone proclaimed displeasure.

"How deep is it?" Sparrow asked.

"Too deep," Achan said. "Even if Sparrow managed to tiptoe in this muck, only the top of his head would break the surface. I'll carry him on my back."