The cold, brisk air of the plains was a welcome relief to Mika's throbbing head, and despite the ragged lope of the grey stallion, he soon shook off the last remaining effects of the mandrake. Tamlur also seemed invigorated by the rush of cold air and took off to run at the side of a small, dun-colored female.
Mika smiled, urging the horse into a canter as he rode alongside the wagons, eyeing them in a speculative manner, inspecting each for potential problems. AH seemed in good condition except the secret wagon. It still rode low to the ground, and its axle squeaked so loudly that Mika felt it must be heard in Yecha.
Holding his hand to his head, Mika swung his horse away from the wagon and made a note to implore the Guildsman to have some of its mysterious load transferred to another wagon and to grease the noisy axle. The same driver rode atop the high seat and glared at Mika in the same hostile manner, causing him to reflect that the man just might learn a few manners on the trip.
After a short mounted conference with Horns-buck, they agreed to follow the usual trail, skirting the edge of the Burneal Forest to take advantage of the ample water, game, and firewood there.
The forest route would add several days and many miles to their journey. It would be far shorter to head directly across the plains, angling sharply toward Eru-Tovar. But there were disadvantages to such a route. Firstly, there was no water on the open plains, and while the mules might handle the shortage with few complaints, the horses would not, and heavy water bags would only slow them down.
Then, too, there were the brigands to consider. These men, desperate as they were to survive, generally avoided the forest, for they had few if any weapons and found it difficult to defend themselves against the many dangerous creatures that lived in the forest, not to mention the nomads themselves, who killed them on sight.
These dangerous men were often to be found on the plains, and so great were their thirst, hunger, and desire to live that they would attack caravans against even overwhelming odds.
All things considered, Hornsbuck suggested, and Mika was quick to agree, that there was little advantage to the direct route.
The first day went smoothly and they traveled more than twenty-five miles by nightfall. Drawing the wagons into a circle, mules and horses staked outside to give early warning in case of attack, they made camp.
A hunting party entered the forest and was lucky enough to encounter a large doe which they quickly brought down with a well-aimed sablewood arrow. As the meat roasted over the fire, Mika and Horns-buck discussed the journey.
"If we are able to hold to this pace," Mika said thoughtfully, "we ought to make Eru-Tovar inside of twenty days."
"Something will go wrong," growled Hornsbuck, taking a deep swallow of the honeyed mead that he allowed himself at the end of each evening. "An axle will break or a mule will die or the provisions will spoil and we'll have to hunt. Something always goes wrong; you can count on it. Better figure twenty-five days at least."
"Nothing will go wrong," said a deep, firm voice from the shadows. "And it is most important that we arrive in Eru-Tovar no later than ten days hence. We've already wasted enough time while you practiced your barbaric rites, burying that witch doctor."
Mika started to rise, anger clouding his mind, but Hornsbuck's massive hand closed over his shoulder and forced him to remain seated.
"That witch doctor," said Hornsbuck with controlled fury, "was a great healer, sir, and he died long before his time, thanks to a kobold who, may I remind you, was hidden in one of your wagons. He was also this lad's father."
"My apologies, sir," said the man as he moved into the circle of light cast by the firelight. It was the Guildsman.
"My words were ill-chosen out of concern for my schedule, which has been badly affected by the events since we left Yecha. It is most important that we arrive no later than the twelfth of Harvest Moon."
"But that is only ten days hence," Hornsbuck replied in a genial tone, still gripping Mika's shoulder firmly. "That is not possible."
"It is possible if you take a more direct route," insisted the Guildsman.
"Sir, that is a most dangerous path," said Mika, once more in control of his temper. "We deem it wiser to take the forest route, which will ensure the safe arrival of your cargo."
"I did not think that danger was an important issue with you Wolf Nomads," said the Guildsman. "I thought you cut your teeth on daggers and fought wild boars for sport."
"We are not afraid," Mika said stiffly, "but only a fool risks his skin when it is not necessary. We will travel as fast as possible and perhaps shave some time off our reckoning if there are no problems with the wagons."
"You will find nothing wrong with my wagons, my drivers, or my animals. And you forget, wolfman, that you are but the guard. I represent the Guild and have the final word on all matters. It is my decision that we take the direct route."
"You may represent the Guild, sir, but I am responsible for our lives, including yours, and I will choose my own path," Mika said hotly.
"I should have known that Wolf Nomads lack the courage of their cousins, the Tiger Nomads," sneered the Guildsman. "When I reach Eru-Tovar I will speak to the Guild and tell them of your cowardice. They will not take kindly to the late arrival of this valuable cargo. I will convince them that we have made a mistake in entrusting our caravans to your craven care. The time for treaty-making is almost upon us. I will see to it that we sign an exclusive arrangement with the Tiger Nomads. They are men and do not run weeping like women at the mere thought of danger."
Mika stared at the Guildsman, his thoughts in turmoil. No more than one night out and already he was faced with a terrible decision. Mika looked at Horns-buck for guidance, hoping that the man would step in and take charge. But Hornsbuck merely twirled his beard between his fingers and stared at the ground.
Mika thought fast. Loss of the valuable Guild treaty was a powerful threat. Enor would not be pleased if Mika brought the caravan in safely but lost the treaty. It would hardly be a fitting tribute to the memory of his father. And it would scarcely win him a place at the fire.
Finally, he struck on what he considered to be his only option. "All right, Guildsman, we will take the overland route, but let it be known to all that it was by your directive. If we fare poorly, the blame will rest on your shoulders alone."
Hornsbuck sighed at Mika's words, but the Guildsman smiled coldly and, bowing in mock respect, retreated from the fire.
"Mika, lad, why did you fall for that old trick? Could you not see that he was prodding you, hoping to bruise your pride until he shagged you into doing his bidding? Go after him. Tell him that we will stick to our original plan."
TamTur looked from one face to the other, sensing something was wrong. His large, intelligent hazel eyes reflected concern, and he stared after the Guildsman and growled.
"No," said Mika, regretting his decision. "I must do as I said. We cannot afford trouble with the Guild. We will take the overland route. We will leave at dawn. We must make certain that all waterskins are filled and that the men ride armored and fully armed."
Hornsbuck nodded unenthusiastically and rose to give the new orders, a glance of contempt over his massive shoulders indicating that the earlier camaraderie had cooled. Probably the man considered Mika a fool, but the Guildsman's threat to the caravan treaty could not be ignored.
"Great Mother Wolf, what have I gotten myself into?" Mika muttered, kneading his forehead with his fist. Then, unwilling to sit in the firelight, a clear target for the certain hostility of his men, he rose and stalked into the darkness that lurked on the far side of the wagons.
He roamed for an hour or longer in the forest, the fragrance of ferns, pines, and roanwood a soothing balm to his troubled mind. He paced the unfamiliar forest floor with little or no thought to the carnivores whose home it was, or to the savage, aboriginal humans, thought to be the remnants of the original Flannae Folk, who lived in the forest and attacked with deadly stealth.
TamTur was well trained and could be depended on to scent out all danger and prevent it before it occurred. It was a pity, though, Mika reflected, that the wolf could not monitor his wayward tongue as easily as he warded off physical risk.
One day, Mika's hasty words might place them into a situation that neither he nor Tam could handle. Once again, Mika resolved, albeit once again too late, to think before he spoke.