Nightpool by Shirley Rousseau Murphy Read Free Book Online

the
way the hand held the blade, crippled and twisted.
    Hibben knelt there fingering the knife.
    It was all over now. Teb felt sick and
helpless. How had Hibben known?
    Hibben turned, still kneeling, so the knife
swung close to Teb’s face as he raised it. And he began to cut at
the tree.
    Long, heavy strokes, swift and sure. Teb
stared.
    Why was Hibben helping him? Where was Garit?
Was this some kind of trick?
    Hibben nudged his shoulder. “Stand up. Hold
the tree while I cut on through. I’ll take the weight when it
falls. Brace your feet.”
    Teb stood up and braced his shoulder against
the tree, gripping the trunk against himself as tight as he could.
He could feel the trunk tremble as the knife sliced and sliced,
could feel the tree begin to give way. He pressed with all his
strength, then he felt it ease as Hibben stood up and grasped it
above him. He moved away when Hibben pushed him, and stood helpless
to do more. He felt, as much as saw, the tree let down, with a
whisper of leaves, onto the wet ground. He knelt at once, slipped
the chain over the stump and tied it to his leg, was ready to run
when Hibben pulled him up. “Come on.” He pushed Teb in among the
horses so he was pressed between their warm rumps. “This one,
here,” Hibben gave him a leg up, pressed the reins into his hands,
and backed the horse out of line, then led it with his own as they
moved away from the camp. Other horses moved with them, led by men
Teb could not see in the darkness.
    Away from the camp, they stopped to mount.
Teb stared at the dark, moving shapes, trying to make out who they
were. Garit? He thought so, and breathed easier. And then someone
small, who could only be Lervey. They moved out at a slow, silent
walk; not even the bits jingled. Teb thought they were wrapped in
cloth. There was no sign of the jackals following, no heavy rushing
flight at them, no irritable, coughing bark. A rider moved up
beside Teb and touched his arm. He stared up into Pakkna’s bearded
face. Pakkna squeezed his arm, then moved on in silence. Teb
thought he heard Garit whisper a command. They rode for a long time
without speaking, up across the rising meadow, moving faster when
they were well away from the camp. Then at last they were on drier
ground beside tall boulders, and then on a rocky trail.
    They had not traveled far over the rough
shingle when Garit moved his horse up beside Teb. It was lighter
now, for the clouds were blowing away, and the pale constellations
of Mimmilette and Casscassonne shone above the ridge. Garit leaned
down as if to study the gait of Teb’s mount.
    “Your horse has gone lame; can’t you feel
it? Picked up a stone, likely. Pull him up and let’s have a look.
Go on, Hibben. We’ll catch up.”
    Teb and Garit dismounted as the others moved
ahead, and soon stood alone as Garit lifted the gelding’s near
front foot.
    “I didn’t feel him go lame,” Teb
whispered.
    “Shh. He’s not. I wanted you alone. Now
listen well. I am going to give you some instructions pretty soon,
in front of the others. I don’t want you to follow them.”
    Teb nodded, puzzled.
    “What I do want you to do is this. Go to the
caves of Nison-Serth as I will tell you. But go on through them,
clear through and out the other side, above the Bay of Dubla. Make
sure there is no one on the coast to see you, stay hidden, get down
the coast and back into Auric. Stay near the shore; keep to the
brush and rocks. You can get into Bleven all right, but do it at
night. Go directly to the cottage of Merlther Brish on the back
street. You’ll know it by the big dray horses in the side yard and
the pile of barrels and the smell of malt—he’s the brewer. Give him
this note.” Garit pressed a piece of paper into Teb’s hand. “He
will hide you. You are to stay there, Teb. Safely hidden. You are
to wait there until I can bring you an army. Merlther will do the
best he can for you.”
    Teb stared at Garit in disbelief.
    “You will retake Auric one