Probably lying down in the general’s tent, taking a nap, he thought. It was a wicked thought, and even though he wouldn’t for a second put such a thing past his brother, he pushed it away. Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw movement up on the ridge. He jerked his head to follow it and saw what was undeniably Ealon’s distinctive gait—the young man walked on his toes, strangely. His younger brother was just entering a copse of trees, making for the ridge that surrounded the valley like the lip of a giant bowl.
“What is he up to?” Cormoran whispered aloud.
Just then he felt the wind of a blade and swung, taking the arm of an attacker off at the shoulder. He leaped, nimble even in his heavy armor, retaking his place at Gravelhorn’s back. “Orfek, my friend, how do you fare?”
“I wish you’d bring me a real challenge, your highness,” the dwarf called over his shoulder. “I’m starting to nod off.”
Cormoran grinned. “Ealon’s up to something. I need us to fight to the left flank to catch him.”
“Horn of blood,” Gravelhorn swore.
Cormoran took no offense. If anyone had earned the right to candor, it was Gravelhorn. “You lead, I’ll follow, my lord,” the dwarf said. “I always was partial to dancin’.”
“You would let me lead?” Cormoran said, slashing his way forward.
“Try to find a more nimble-footed partner. I dare you,” Gravelhorn growled, keeping close behind.
“Why does the last delivery of the day have to be to Rhory?” Ellis asked. His feet were already aching from the miles they’d trodden that day. He tugged on the strap of his courier bag, feeling the weight of the one package they had yet to deliver.
Kit didn’t answer, and her mind seemed to be elsewhere.
“I mean, why shouldn’t it be Rhory, after all?” Ellis countered his own argument. “Who am I? Why not give the unpleasant assignments to the napper, right?”
“Are you through?” Kit asked, a little too irritably. “This isn’t a punishment, you thimblehead. It’s just a job. It’s the luck of the draw. Even if you hadn’t had your little encounter with Tubber, we’d still be here, on our way to Rhory.”
“I hate Rhory,” Ellis said.
“I think even the humans hate Rhory,” Kit agreed.
Rhory was a human outpost on Everdale—which was otherwise designated a haffolk reservation. It served as the administrative seat of the moon, connecting them to the Kingdom of Hearth, and it also hosted Everdale’s ætherport. It was not a place one wanted to get caught in after dark, as the crowded streets were filled with those on their way from one place to another, many of whom, for various reasons, did not want to land on Hearth.
As they rounded a bend in the road, Ellis made out the border crossing ahead of them. There was a short line, as usual, for it took time to answer the questions of the border agents and obtain writs of passage.
Ellis sighed. “I’m tired of my life.”
Kit rolled her eyes.
“I mean it,” he said. “It’s sunup and walk thirty miles and sunset and then do it again.”
“You don’t have to tell me about that. I walk every bleedin’ mile with you.”
“Nothing is ever going to change. I’m just going to be a courier, second-class, until my feet fall off.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Your feet won’t fall off. They’ll just grind down to nubs.”
“I want to do something important with my life,” Ellis complained. “I wish I could just leave all this behind and go do something…big. Something that matters.”
“O! By the horn—will you stop whining?” Kit snapped.
“I’m not whining.”
“You are. You make me want to crush the head of something innocent.”
“Something that isn’t me, I hope.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
Ellis looked sideways at her as they walked. “You scare me sometimes.”
“Well, you irritate me sometimes, so we’re even.”
They’d reached the border crossing, and stood at the back of the line. Ellis counted four travelers ahead of them. One was human, apparently finishing business in the Dale for the day and heading back to his home in Rhory. Three others were haffolk, two wore merchant’s coats, and the other was wearing ordinary Dale dress, so Ellis couldn’t guess why she might be crossing. And it is none of your business, he reminded himself.
A wooden fence made of rough-hewn timbers stretched as far as the eye could see. It came to about chest-high on the haffolk, and ran for many miles around the periphery of Rhory. Ellis wasn’t sure if the purpose of it was to keep humans and dwarfs in or haffolk out. Perhaps it was both.
There was a large gate set into the fence, and a small guard house sat just inside on Rhory land. A wooden table had been placed about three paces in front of the gate, and two human guards sat at it. One, a thick-set woman in her middle years, had a pile of papers in front of her, and two spindles stacked with writs and receipts. Small, round spectacles perched on her nose, and her lips seemed frozen in a perpetual purse. A tight gray bun stuck out asymmetrically from one side of her head. The other human was sprawled in his chair, looking as if he might slide off in a sleepy stupor, one hand on the hilt of his sword.
As Ellis and Kit approached, Ellis withdrew his courier ID and held it up for them to read. The one keeping records slapped her partner’s thigh. “Courier,” she said. “I need Form 86E.”
“Horn of blood, woman,” he said, but he hauled himself to his feet and ambled back to the guard house. A moment later he returned.
“Name?” the woman asked.
“Ellis Sunderland, Courier Second Class, Everdale Post Office Number 27.”
“Name?” The woman looked at Kit.
“Kittredge Cornfeather.”
The woman looked back and forth between them. “You married?”
Ellis’ face flushed and he began stammering.
“By the horn! No,” Kit said. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, emphasizing the absurdity of the notion. “He’s a whiner.”
“I am not a whiner,” Ellis protested.
“You’re whining right now,” Kit pointed out.
The woman put her hand up to stop them. She spoke once more in Kit’s direction. “What is your occupation?”
The man returned and slapped Form 86E on the table, groaning as he dropped once more into his seat.
“Bodyguard,” Kit said.
“Bodyguard?”
Kit put her hand on the hilt of her longneedle. “Bodyguard.”
The woman’s eyebrows rose. She looked at Ellis. “Is she your bodyguard?”
Ellis nodded vigorously.
“Well, all right then.” The woman made a note.
“Did she say ‘bodyguard’?” the man asked.
“She did.”
“Is this what the world is coming to?” The man shook his head. “Not only do we have to live on this gods-forsaken d’race planet, not only do we have to lower ourselves by talking to the filthy creatures, now we have to put up with them giving themselves airs. Oooh, the d’race needs a bodyguard. As if a d’race could be fancy enough to need one, or important enough, like.”