Fugitive of the Sky

Chapter Twenty-Six: The Hunt Begins

It took hours to get all the men out the gates. Trot Lithah sent a delegation of guards to demand what was going on and it was a tense hour hiding inconspicuously in the crowd until they were satisfied and left. Hornar hadn't seemed bothered by the interrogation, but he guessed that, like a good leader, he simply wasn't showing it.

Natan shook his head. He should have guessed Trot Lithah would be upset by any gatherings while she was still new to power. Hopefully, she wouldn't hear he was the one who had suggested the hunt. He was more than happy to stay beneath her notice, at least until her temper settled and his fortunes reversed.

He caught sight of Hornar standing up and craning his head to see through the crowd. Natan hunched lower, disguising his height and pretending to check his sword. Why was Hornar specifically looking for him? This had to be the fifth time he'd looked to see if he was still there. The overheard conversation with Notir flooded through his mind. I will help you at the proper time. Now that Notir was dead, was Hornar planning to fulfill that legacy? Or were he and Tampul planning to kill him for revenge?

Surely not. He and Hornar had been on good terms for years. He'd trusted Natan to always give him the highest fair price. Perhaps Hornar wasn't looking for him. Trot Lithah's soldiers must've rattled him more than he realized. He was just being paranoid. But then why had Hornar called him out to join the hunt?

The gates finally opened wide enough to let everyone through and the crowd quickly spilled out onto the plain. Natan let himself be carried by the crowd, thoughts churning. At this rate, they would be only an hour's journey from Liron before night fell. True, traveling with the caravan took some time, but he hadn't thought this hunting party would take so much longer.

A couple of people had had the sense to bring packgorts and people were bunching around them, bargaining for the right to put their packs on the beasts' backs. Envy twisted at the sight of stones changing hands and Natan looked away from the quickly growing baggage heap. Groups of acquaintances and clans stood apart in knots, shifting and as they waited in the afternoon sun. People milled around, waiting for a clear direction, and someone even started a friendly bout.

Natan found a spot not too close to the clear knots and sat down to wait. His stomach felt pitifully empty, but he ignored it. A week might've been too generous an estimate. If necessary, he'd go on half travel rations in order to make it to the next city.

His opinion of Hornar's leadership skills soured as the shadows moved and the crowd still milled about. Perhaps he was a good hunter, but apparently his skills didn't scale to directing large crowds. Natan shifted and rubbed his backside. There was no point waiting out here. He almost might as well go back into the city.

But Maru wanted him out there, away where Firot couldn't chase him down and demand payment. Not that his blackmail mattered as much anyway now the girl was gone, but the rumor of dishonor was almost as bad as the stain itself. If Trot Lithah thought he'd deceived her she might arrest him or worse. Or she could start digging and discover the hunters really had brought a slave girl to the gates of the city. He hadn't seen Firot in the Larkwing-hunting crowd so far, but he was almost certain his caravan would bump into the hunt at one point. He'd have to make himself scarce then.

In the meantime, what could he do? Wearing his current tunic, he might be able to get a few rocks doing odd jobs once everyone was setting up camp. Once he had enough he could trade it for something valuable and start a bartering system. He'd worked up from scratch before; he could do it again. Or maybe he should find a group of traveling companions and share his extras out. Once they had a good relationship, bartering at an advantage would be so much easier. He could join some dice games, or join a friendly bout.