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  Tam's hand went to the knife on his belt, as if he imagined goblins still lurking in the empty buildings. "I don't like this place."

  "Don't worry, lad. We won't be staying."

  The river was wide and deep. There had been a bridge here, back when the town had been alive. A flood had carried most of the bridge away, a year or a decade ago. Little more remained than a row of pilings jutting above the waves.

  There was another ancient road. This one followed the river, meandering to the east between the water and the crumbled town wall. There were no paving stones on this road. It was dirt, turning to mud wherever there was a dip. Tira led Daisy to the nearest dip and smiled.

  "Hoofprints," said Tam, joining her. "And a wagon. They definitely came this way."

  She beamed. "I think we're catching up. Let's go."

  They spent the night well back from the road. Tira fixed their cinches as best she could while Tam cooked. She didn't trust her repair job. No amount of stitching was as strong as an unbroken leather strap. Neither animal was particularly fast, so she decided they would keep walking for now.

  They were both jumpy, knowing that their quarry was somewhere nearby. They ate quietly and put out the fire as soon as the sun was fully down. They didn't set a watch, and Tira slept fitfully, but the night passed without incident. They were back on the road early, but by mid-morning Tira knew they had lost the trail.

  "I don't understand," Tam said, staring at a broad patch of mud that covered the road from one ditch to the other. A few animals had ventured into the mud patch far enough to drink from the puddle in the middle, but nothing had crossed.

  "There could be a hundred explanations," Tira said. "We could be ahead of them now."

  Tam scratched his head. "How?"

  She shrugged. "Maybe one of the children got loose, and they had to chase him. Maybe they saw us, and decided to hide until we passed. Maybe they left the road to hunt, or pick berries."

  "Oh." He scratched his head some more. "Should we wait here?"

  "No. Let's see where this road leads."

  They walked through the mud patch, and Tira paused, looking back at their tracks. Those footprints told a story. "Come on," she said to Tam, and led Daisy back through the mud. Tam followed without comment, but when she turned around a second time, he said, "What are you doing?"

  "Sowing confusion," she said, and walked one more time through the mud. "There. No one who comes by will have any idea who was here or which way we were going."

  The sun was just past its peak when the forest ended and a farm appeared on their right, a man and his wife in the distance, planting seeds. Shortly after that, the neglected dirt road gave way to a well-maintained road of gravel. They passed several farms in a row, and met a couple of little boys driving a cow up the road in the opposite direction. The boys were too shy to speak to them, moving to the far side of the cow as they passed.

  Soon after that, a town appeared before them. It was surrounded by a stone wall, little more than waist high. That told Tira they were more worried about goblins than anything else. The town gates were propped open and unguarded.

  They drew some stares as they walked through the streets. This town was well off the beaten track. It was a nice enough place, many of the buildings made from stone, with a grassy meadow in the middle of town surrounding a flagpole.

  Wide streets led off in four directions from the town square. Tira handed her reins to Tam and said, "Wait here. I'm going to take a look around."

  He nodded absently. Everything about the town seemed to amaze him, from a two-story inn to a livery stable. Tira walked off, shaking her head in quiet amusement. It was an inconsequential little nowhere town, but it was clearly the biggest place the boy had ever seen.

  She took the street that led toward the river, expecting to find a bridge. Instead, she found a low wooden tower on each bank with a couple of thick ropes stretched between them. There was a ferry boat with a short mast, and a system of pulleys on the mast that connected to the rope. On the far side of the river she could see a shack near the tower, and a road, but no other sign of human activity. It was all unbroken forest.

  The ferry, a flat-bottomed boat with low gunwales, was on the near side, and she strolled down to the dock. A couple of men were loafing in the sunshine, one man whittling, the other napping with his hat pulled low over his eyes. The wood carver squinted up at her and smiled. "Looking to cross the river, Miss?"

  "In a little while," she said. "Will you be here long?"

  "I'm always here," he said gloomily.

  Tira gave him her best smile. "Then maybe you saw my cousins. Have you taken any children across the river in the last few days?"

  "You mean strangers? I haven't had any strangers in, oh, a long time."

  "I guess I got here first," she said. "I'll just wait for them, and we'll all cross together."

  He shrugged, and she left him there, heading back into town.

  The fattest woman Tira had ever seen was selling river fish from a cart in the town square. Tira sauntered over, complimented her on the fish, but declined to buy any. The woman was bored and happy to chat with her regardless.

  Tira pointed to the street leading east. "Where's that go?"

  "It just keeps following the river," the woman said. "It's not a very good road. They don't maintain it, on account of no one uses it really. You keep going about fifty miles, there's a bridge, and they've got a town there." She curled her lip in disdain. "Willan's Crossing, they call it. It's not as big as this place."

  "Ah, I see." Tira gestured at the street leading south. "How about that way?"

  The woman shrugged. "There's some farms out that way. The road sort of peters out when the farms end." She peered at Tira. "How come you don't know where anything is?"

  "I'm just passing through," said Tira. "Actually, I'm here to meet my cousins. Have you seen some men traveling with three children?"

  The woman cackled. "You're the only strangers that have been through here in quite some time." She seemed to think the question was hilarious, and kept on laughing as Tira edged away.

  Early afternoon found Tira and Tam behind the livery stable, squatting in a circle with three local workingmen, rolling dice. A complete lack of money made dice games a risky proposition, but Tira had a system that had kept her from going hungry on several occasions in the past. It had also sent her fleeing for her life once, and once gotten her beaten and chucked into a river, but it worked more often than it failed. In an isolated town like this, far from the grifters and sharps of the world's great cities, she was almost certain that she couldn't lose.

  "Okay, that's a crown and a cup, which brings your points to three and my points to five. Your turn to roll, so…"

  "Now, hold on," said the ostler, frowning. "You said two of a kind was better than one and one."

  "Right, sorry," said Tira smoothly. "Your points are five and mine are three. That's what I meant." She scooped up the dice and pressed them into the ostler's hand, and he dumped them into the cup, giving her a suspicious glance as he started to shake.

  Feet scraped the ground behind Tira, and she hid a frown. This ridiculous town was so boring that a dice game was drawing an audience. The more people who watched, the more likely it was that someone would catch her making up the rules as she went along. Then she caught an odor of fish, and turned her head.

  The fat woman from the town square stood watching, leaning one elbow on her now-empty cart. "I thought you were going," she said.

  "What do you mean?" Tira asked.

  The woman shrugged. "Your cousins just went across the river."

  Tira jumped to her feet. "Three children?"

  "Well, there was a wagon," she said. "I think I heard children inside. Crossed on the ferry ten minutes ago."

  Tira looked at Tam, and the two of them took off around the livery stable at a run. The ostler and the other two men from the dice game followed, complaining loudly. Tira ignored them, untying Daisy
from hitching rail and hurrying through the town square.

  "Now, hold on! You owe me three coppers, by my count."

  "You owe me five," chimed in another voice.

  "What are you trying to pull?"

  She hurried up the street to the ferry dock. The ferry was on the far bank, the crew loafing in the sunshine. There was no one else in sight.

  "Damn it," said Tira. "We need to get across."

  "That could be awkward," murmured Tam. She knew what he meant. They had been counting on winning at dice to pay for their passage across the river.

  Staying where they were at, though, was going to be difficult as well. The ostler dropped a hand on Tira's shoulder, thrust his jaw out, and leaned in close. "You're not going anywhere," he said. "Not until I get my money."

  "I don't have your money," she said, and his face darkened. She pointed back up the road. "He has your money."

  The ostler turned to look, and she punched him hard just under the ear. Tam was already swinging into the saddle as the ostler dropped and Tira sprang onto Daisy's back. The mule, caught by surprise, broke into a run for once, and Tira ran her straight for the river bank. Tam was galloping along right beside her. "I'll meet you on the other side," she said. "On the road. Good luck!"

  Then Daisy thundered down the river bank and into the water. The river looked deep and fast. She was hoping it wasn't as bad as it looked, and it wasn't. It was worse. Daisy lost her footing almost immediately, and let out an indignant bray as she started to swim. Tira slid out of the saddle, cursing at the icy grip of the water, and caught Daisy's tail. After that there was little she could do except hold on.

  She'd had a vague thought of angling Daisy upstream, getting her to swim against the current so they would reach the far shore somewhere close to the road. She abandoned that plan immediately. The current swept them out of sight of the ferry crossing and the town in moments.

  Daisy swam frantically, and Tira helped as best she could by kicking her feet. Her boots filled with water and dragged her feet down. Her leather coat and the sword at her hip wanted to pull her to the bottom. It became harder and harder to keep her chin above the water, and errant waves slapped across her face, making her choke and sputter.

  Her hat fell off, and floated for a moment beside her. It was a good hat, and she wanted to reach for it, but she couldn't bring herself to take a hand from Daisy's tail. She watched in mute frustration as the hat slowly sank through the water and disappeared.

  The far bank was a green blur, a line of unbroken forest sweeping past at terrifying speed. It seemed impossibly far away, and Tira ignored it, concentrating on each kick of her exhausted legs, each wave that threatened to drown her.

  Her hands burned with cold, then went numb. She could no longer feel Daisy's tail, but she felt a sudden sideways tug and watched in horror as Daisy's tail was yanked from her hands. She floundered, splashing madly with her hands, and something thumped solidly into her ribs. It was a fallen tree, and the force of the water pressed her against the trunk with frightening strength. The water was shoulder-deep, but it formed a standing wave against her neck and the side of her head. Water swirled around her mouth, and she hung there, thrashing uselessly, fighting a rising panic.

  Her foot, flailing, brushed against something.

  She probed downward with her toe. Yes, that was stone somewhere beneath her. She tilted her neck until her nose was above the water, took a deep breath, and made herself look around.

  The riverbank was no more than a dozen feet away. She was pressed against the wet, slick trunk of a tree that had toppled into the river when the river undercut the bank. Half of the roots jutted into the air where land met water. The trunk sloped down from the bank, disappearing beneath the water, pressing into her side where her ribs ended.

  The tree was thick with branches, and she wrapped her hands around branches on either side of her and used them to lever herself upward until her head was clear of the water. She thought about climbing onto the trunk, but she feared the water would sweep her off and carry her downstream. Now that she had a connection to the bank, the thought of being helpless in the current again terrified her.

  Instead, she clung to the branches, shifting only one hand at a time as she worked her way sideways, inching closer to the shore. She had to take a deep breath and duck under the water to pass beneath one thick branch, but when she was past it, she could feel solid stone under both feet. With the current pushing on her legs, her footing on the slick rocks of the riverbed was treacherous to say the least. She hung onto the branches with a death grip, working her way sideways one careful step at a time.

  Step by step the pull of the current lessened, and her footing became more secure until at last she could let go of the branches and stumble ashore. She sank to her knees, her whole body trembling, and rubbed her hands together while she waited for strength to return to her limbs. At length she realized that she wasn't getting stronger. She forced herself to her feet, looking around for Daisy. Her flint and steel were in Daisy's saddlebags, and she wanted a fire desperately.

  The sun had gone behind clouds, and she was shaking so hard she could barely stand. Her teeth chattered and her brain felt sluggish. She stared around, trying to figure out if the mule would be upstream or downstream, and a whiff of smoke came to her nostrils. She froze, wondering if her cold-addled brain was deceiving her, and she caught another hint of that wonderful scent.

  The wind was coming from upstream. She staggered through the thick undergrowth that lined the river's bank and turned her face into the light breeze. She stumbled forward, hoping against hope, but the scent of smoke seemed to have disappeared.

  Something rustled in the trees to her left. It was Daisy, head down and woebegone at the river's edge. Tira stumbled down the bank and freed Daisy's reins from a tangle of branches.

  A clanking sound came from somewhere upstream. Tira cocked her head to the side, listening. She heard another clank, and then a steady metallic tapping. She looked at Daisy, shrugged, and led the mule toward the strange sound.

  She caught another whiff of smoke as she walked, and then the wonderful sound of branches crackling in a fire. She tugged on Daisy's reins, stumbling forward, and finally staggered into a clearing where Tam stood beside a small fire. He was tapping a spoon against the bottom of his cook pot, but he stopped when he saw her, his shoulders sagging visibly as tension drained away.

  Tira didn't say a word, just peeled off her sodden cloak, draped it across the ground, and dropped to her knees beside the flames. She cupped her hands over the rising heat, pulling them back only when it started to hurt, soaking in the delicious heat and watching steam rise from her trousers.

  Tam had stripped down to some sort of linen underpants. His clothes hung from branches near the fire, and he turned his back to her, pulling on his still-wet pants. He seemed distinctly embarrassed, not meeting her eyes as he poured water into the pot and held it over the fire.

  "It's okay," she told him. "I've seen a man in his underthings before."

  He didn't answer, just opened a small pouch and dropped wet leaves into the pot.

  Tira turned around, letting the fire warm her back and buttocks. Then she stood, draped her cloak over a branch, and crossed to Daisy. She stripped off the saddle and saddle blanket, then laid her bow on the ground and turned the case over so it could drain.

  When she turned back to the fire, Tam handed her a steaming mug. "Tea," he said. "I made it strong. The leaves got wet, so whatever we don't use now, we throw away."

  She snatched the cup from his hand, burned her fingers, and nearly dropped it. Finally she got it by the handle, curling the fingers of her other hand around the cup, close enough to feel the radiating heat. She wanted desperately to gulp the hot tea, but she knew she would scald herself, so she made herself wait.

  Tam squatted across the fire from her, his face long. "Don't worry about it," she told him. "We'll get more tea."

  He nodded, not cheering u
p one whit.

  Tira cocked an eyebrow. "What's wrong with you?"

  The corners of his mouth sagged down. "I don't know." He sounded miserable. "I tried my best, I swear. I don't know what's wrong with me."

  "What?" Tira shook her head, confused. "What are you talking about?"

  "You didn't want me to come with you, but I thought I would show you. I was going to do everything right, and make you glad I came." He stared at his feet. "I couldn't keep up with you in the river. I wanted to help you, but I didn't know where you went, and I was worried about the pony. So I headed for the bank, and then I looked for you, but the brush is so thick and I didn't know what to do. So I made a fire and I waited." It seemed to take a great effort for him to meet her eyes. "It was all I could think of to do."

  Tira laughed, and he flinched. She made herself squash the laugh. The boy was honestly convinced that he had let her down! He stared at the ground, shamefaced, and she smiled.

  "Tam."

  He didn't look up, and she reached across the fire and prodded his knee. "Tam, when I got out of the river, I would've murdered my own grandmother for a hot fire and a cup of tea." She paused to take a sip, gasping as she burned her tongue. "You were brilliant."

  He looked up, his face a mask of doubt and misery.

  "Look," she said, lifting the cup to hide her grin. "I don't really like you. I can't be bothered to tell lies to make you feel better." His eyebrows rose a bit, and she continued. "I've made a lot of mistakes in the last few days, but the smartest thing I've done since leaving Raven Crossing is letting you come with me."

  Chapter 4

  It was late in the day before they resumed their journey. Their clothes were still damp, and so were the saddle blankets, so they walked, to keep themselves warm and to keep the animals from being chafed. They found a footpath that ran parallel to the river, and followed it upstream. They broke through the trees, Tira saw the road ahead, and a gravelly voice said, "I told you! Here they are."