answer him, however, taking a big bite of bread and ignoring him completely. He didn’t seem as crazy out here on the trail, the eccentric drama he flung at them in the classroom changed somehow into more of a taciturn intensity. He was no stranger to living out, either.
Banion had no misgivings about answering, bread or no.
“Addah doesn’t really have any formal borders,” he said, waving expansively with one of his huge limbs. His beard moved mysteriously as his mouth, hidden somewhere amongst all that prickly brown growth, completed its business with his bread. “And the Addahites are not only hard to find, but they don’t seem to give a barrel of fish whether there are Marekites, or Vangothics, or anyone, for that matter, looking for them.”
He caught Cerise staring at him, lips pursed in prim disapproval at the whole talking-with-your-mouth-full spectacle. “Which makes it kind of a challenge for them.” He grinned unrepentantly at her.
It was a quick lunch, the horses left saddled and Kai not even eating. He squatted instead a few paces away, gazing with his hooded eyes over a swale dropping out away from them in a plunging fall of gr een. He’d been ranging ahead, sometimes disappearing for a half hour or so, ever since they crossed the Kendrick. Keeping up with the horses obviously was not going to be an issue for him.
It was as they were mounting up again that he rose suddenly into a half crouch, hands going to steady his blades . He threw one meaningful look at Melkin, who came off his horse so quickly that he was at the Dra’s side before the rest of them even knew something was up.
Over their heads, far across the swale, Ari could see a small party of mounted men disappearing into the distant tree line. Kai and Melkin shared a long look, and Ari was struck again at the two of them. How did a man of the most lethal race in the Realms and a sour old Master of Applied Sciences ever get to know each other?
“ Who were they?” he asked them.
Melkin rose wordlessly, face set, and remounted. Kai flowed out of his crouch and swung down the trail, but Cerise moved her high-spirited mare to block Melkin from following.
“ If there are significant events that might necessitate a report to her Majesty,” she said pompously, “I need to know about them.” Her narrow nose flared like it could smell news just out of reach.
“ All right,” Melkin said flatly.
“ Who were those men?” she demanded insistently. “If they are not enemies, then why didn’t you hail them? It’s not like we couldn’t use the help.”
Melkin stared at her coldly. “You want no part of those men, believe me. They brook no foolishness.” He urged his horse forward, the roan’s big body easily pushing the lighter mare aside. “I’ll let you know what’s significant and what isn’t,” he growled as he passed.
Cerise was forced to be content with that, looking miffed, and the whole party became more alert; even Banion, whose face had been issuing sounds very similar to snores, kept his eyes open. But the rest of the day was uneventful. They stopped early in a halcyon little glade ringed with evergreens, and the horses, feeling the day’s climb, grazed like they hadn’t seen grass in a week. They’d cocked a leg and dozed off by the time the rest of camp was set up, the water drawn, and the fire going. Twilight fell, fast and breathless in these high lands, and soon their small voices and the crackle of the fire were the only evidence of life under a very, very big night sky.
“ Why do people come out here?” Rodge muttered, huddled between Ari and Loren and peering nervously out into the blackness. “Aren’t there things that eat us out here?”
“ Don’t worry, young ‘un,” Banion said heartily from where he was bent over the fire doing dinner duty. “You’re too skinny to be worth the trouble. Now me, I’ve got to worry.”
Loren
Learning to Kill: Stories