The Two of Swords: Part 14 Read Free Page A

was on watch, the others huddled round a tiny fire they’d built out of tussocks of dry grass. When Chanso came over to join them, they went quiet.
    “You’re going to leave him,” Chanso said.
    They scowled at him; then Verjan said, “He’s lost his grip. He knows he’s wrong but he can’t bear to say so. He’ll keep going till we die of thirst or starve, or we run into Ironshirts. Fine. I don’t want to do that. I’ll survive this, if it kills me.”
    “Verjan doesn’t like him much,” Folha explained with a grin. “But he’s right. Soon as his watch is over and he’s asleep, we’re off. He can follow us or he can do what he wants, up to him. It’s stupid going any further.”
    Chanso hesitated for a moment, then said, “Can I come with you?”
    Awkward pause; then Folha said, “I don’t see why not. So long as you don’t make trouble.”
    “Sure.”
    “All right, then. Go and lie down, pretend to be asleep. We’ll tell you when we’re ready to go.”
    Chanso lay down on his side, his eyes closed. Conselh would do the sensible thing, he was sure; as soon as he realised what had happened, he’d turn round and follow. Folha seemed a sensible sort of man; he’d taken charge now, and everything would be fine. All they had to do was retrace their steps, follow the road. It had been two days since the battle, so the Ironshirts would be long gone by now; who’d hang about in this horrible place if they didn’t have to? Going south had been a terrible idea, but wasting the two days had served some purpose. It was all going to be fine.
    Unless they left without him—
    He sat up and looked round. The others were all there, lying quite still, and beyond them he could just make out Conselh’s back. He lay down again, facing the others, eyes open. They weren’t moving at all. Maybe they’d frozen to death.
    Conselh came back and crouched down beside him. “You awake?”
    He considered not answering, but said, “Yes.”
    “Take the next watch.” Chanso stood up. Conselh went on a yard or so, then lay down on his back, hands folded on his chest, looking straight up at the stars. He didn’t seem sleepy. Too much on his mind, probably.
    It would be broad daylight at this rate. Conselh didn’t move, but from time to time Chanso caught the glitter of his open eyes in the dying glow of the fire. He was supposed to be keeping watch; what if Ironshirts crept up on them while he was looking the other way? He turned round, but there was nothing to see. The pale moonlight made him think of mist, early morning on the summer pastures at home. His fingers and toes were aching from the cold and he was thirsty again.
    Some time later Folha got up. Conselh raised his head to look at him. “My watch,” Folha murmured; Conselh nodded. “You should get some sleep,” Folha said.
    “Fat chance.”
    Folha relieved him at watch; then it was Verjan’s turn. What if Verjan got tired of waiting and tried to stab Conselh with an arrow? Stupid idea? Couldn’t happen? Chanso wasn’t so sure. They were all so wound up, so quiet; and Verjan struck him as just the sort of man who’d do stuff like that, though Chanso had never actually met a murderer. But people act different when they’re at the end of their rope. Conselh could handle Verjan, no question, but would the others feel obliged to pitch in? What if they all ended up bashed up and cut about? That would really make things bad.
    Trahidour took the next watch, and then it was dawn. You could tell by the way they moved that nobody had got any sleep at all. Had Conselh figured out what was going on, overheard them maybe and stayed awake on purpose?
    Halfway through the morning they came to the gap in the mountains. Below them lay a wide, flat, grassy plain, through which flowed a broad river. “You know what,” Conselh announced, “I think I can see the sea.”
    Nobody said anything, and they turned off the road, heading straight for the river. They reached it