just as it began to rain again.
“Poole, we know they can track our passing, can we make that harder for them?”
“I believe we can.”
***
They moved down to the rocky river that ran in their desired direction. Walking in the water was slower but effective. For two days, they followed the water. Twice, they had to bypass villages that were situated on the water. Both times, with the aid of the Fly, they avoided people.
When they found a large rock outcropping, they decided it was time to turn north. A thick area of thorny vines was very easy for the spider to navigate, but would be impossible for a man, or a horse. Ultimately, they ascended a ridge that would have been impossible for them without the dual grapplers and winches.
They made camp on a ledge, just below the top of a stony ridge. They were hidden and safe, for the moment. Rand slept that night, again, in the cockpit.
At dawn, it was clear and cold. They could see in every direction to the horizon. They would rest, wait and watch for pursuit. The Fly could do some high altitude mapping surveys.
“Good morning, Rand. We need to perform an inventory. We have forty-four liters of water and nineteen days of MREs remaining. Water is not a problem. I can load and filter water at the next source we encounter. Food is more problematic.”
“Open up and pop the trunk. Let's have a look at our donated supplies.”
Rand looked at the weapons first. The three knives she collected were all lovely. Two of them were perfectly balanced, double-edged blades. Their cleverly designed sheaths made them perfect boot knives. The third was a huge, single-edged blade. The blade was very thick and nose heavy. The edge wasn’t very sharp.
The crossbows were beautifully made by artful craftsmen. They proved deadly out to 100 meters, maybe more. She didn't want to risk her limited bolts finding out how rotted that stump really was.
She now had three heavy, woolen bedrolls and three ten by fifteen oiled canvas tarps. Apparently, they had been made as camouflage and used as tent tarps.
Their pouches yielded a large selection of gold, silver and copper coins of various sizes that she consolidated and stored in the spider. She kept six gold coins out; and she placed them in six different pockets, so they would not clink together at the wrong time. Their personal pouches also held tinder boxes, and dried meats and fruits, in oiled, canvas inner bags. There were three water skins. One had water and the other two had strong wines in them. There were various sized needles and threads and a whetstone.
The saddlebags were much more useful.
Each carried a change of clothes, additional food, and various other items, including a small, leather-bound children's book about a farmer with too many rabbits.
But, most notably, one of them contained a map of that very region. She held it up for Poole to capture a detailed image, and he instantly refined his annotated tactical maps with the hundreds of annotations on this map.
“Rand, I find it interesting that most of these annotations are in English.”
The new tactical map appeared to Rand with region names, city names, rivers and landmarks, all labeled. Their current position was indicated. They were currently on the Ram's Head Ridge.
“Poole, look at this.”
She indicated a small annotation that looked like the character for pi. There was one of these marks on the other side of the ridge, less than a kilometer away.
“Let's have the Fly do an initial recon. How many of those marks are there on this map?”
“I count 181 of these marks.” AI~Poole highlighted them all. They were scattered all over the map, evenly. “The Fly will be there in seven minutes. Here is the high altitude view of that location.”
It was simply part of the rocky mountainside. There didn't seem to be anything there when viewed under maximum magnification.
She continued to search the saddlebags. They were primitive versions of her survival pack.
Learning to Kill: Stories