Chapter Five
Roanna touched the back of her head and flinched. Below her crown was a lump the size of the mound at the base of her thumb. She stared at her fingers, aghast at the thick coat of blood, and it took her a minute to recall what had happened.
After the men had hauled her from the crevice, they had stood gaping awkwardly. Like ragtag soldiers, these two wore leather helmets and an odd assemblage of leather plates stitched onto tunics and trousers of the kind shepherds or farm hands might wear.
“G’day, miss,” the taller one said. Then, with a sheepish grin, he added, “You will have to come with us.”
“Pardon me?” Roanna replied, puzzled by his declaration. “Have I done something wrong?”
“N- not exactly,” he stammered. “You see …”
“We haven’t been paid in nearly a month,” the shorter one interjected, “and Lord Malik Obed has offered a bounty …”
“A bounty?” she exclaimed.
“… on spies.”
She was dumbfounded. How could they think her a spy? Here. In the middle of nowhere.
The man spun her around and attempted to tie her hands behind her. Exhausted, both from the time spent at sea and the ascent afterwards, it took her a moment to realize what he was doing. The instant before he secured the knot, she yanked her hands free and backed away.
“I’m not a spy,” she protested as the shorter one reached out to grab her.
The taller man scowled. “Is this how an honest person enters a country?”
Realizing how her arrival would be difficult to explain, Roanna was turning to flee when the utter impossibility of escape confronted her. Ahead lay an expanse greater than Sandoval’s—mile upon uninterrupted mile of scythe grass—but this time without a path running through. If she were to enter with care, dressed as she was in protective gear, she could leave these beggars behind. But then what? Tired to the bone, mind numbed by cold and fatigue, she could not foresee this particular future. Even so, she knew what would happen. With scythe grass extending to the horizon, lacking water or food, in her state of exhaustion, she could never cross. More likely, she would eventually be forced to lie down and surrender to death.
She had begun to turn back, leaving the opportunity of escape to another and hopefully better circumstance, when the short one hurled a rock. Turning her back to the missile was the last thing she recalled. That explained the lump on her head, but now the need to understand her present situation made her open her eyes.
“She’s awake,” she heard one of them say.
Something poked her hip and she looked to see a pair of tattered boots beside her. One of the boots nudged her again.
“Get up,” the man said. “You can’t lie here all day.”
She glanced up and saw the shorter man standing over her.
“I said get up!” he repeated when she failed to respond.
Stars swam as she rose and tried to clear her head. The tall man threw a loop around her wrist, pulled it taut, then brought her other hand behind her and tied them both together. They led her to an ox cart she hadn’t noticed earlier. After they had shoved her aboard and secured her to the seatback, they returned to the precipice and stared out to sea. A large coil of rope stood beside each of them and Roanna could only wonder at their purpose.
More than an hour had passed when the shorter man came to attention and pointed to the ocean. The two became animated, exchanging remarks, grabbing each other’s arm or shoulder and shaking it. They remained gazing seaward as the minutes went by, watching and waiting for something Roanna could only imagine. After what seemed like an hour, they went right to the edge and tossed one end of each rope over the side while maintaining a grip on the other. Several more minutes passed. All the while, these two were gesturing with their free hands and calling to someone below. Suddenly and in unison, they began hauling something up. Their legs and backs bent to the effort and they groaned and huffed loudly.
At one point, the taller man nodded to the shorter and, in unison, they leaned almost onto their backs. A large wooden box rose above the cliff’s edge, and the men drove their heels into the ground as they hauled it onto the palisade. The crate tilted onto its side as it crested. Once it was securely on the ground, the men released their ropes and went to it. Pulling one side at a time, they walked it away from the brink, then forced it upright and untied the ropes from its handles. They were sweating profusely, so they tore off their shirts and, with hardly a pause, threw the lengths of rope to the unseen ones below and repeated the process.
Once the second crate was standing beside the first, they sat on the ground and leaned against it, panting and perspiring. Eventually, they hauled up a third and, after an even longer break, brought a fourth box up as well.
By now, the suns had risen nearly to zenith, and even Roanna was beginning to sweat.
“May I please have some water?” she called.
The shorter one grimaced, then headed toward the cart. She thought he was responding to her request until he reached for the pry bar on the boards beside her feet. When he turned to walk away, she called out to him.
“Please!” she called. When he did not respond, she tried again. “I’d get it myself, but I cannot.”
He paused to look back, and his companion shouted, “Give her some water. When she’s drunk her fill, you can bring the rest to me.”
The short fellow sighed, then snorted. Caught between both requests, he threw down the pry bar and returned to the cart, withdrawing a water skin from underneath the seat. After he had removed the stopper and slaked his own thirst, letting whatever his mouth would not hold stream down his chest, he dropped the skin onto the boards beside her and stared, as if waiting.
“Be quick about it.”
Roanna frowned, baffled by his obtuseness.
“How can I?” she asked. “Do you suppose you could untie me?”
“That wouldn’t be wise.”
“Then you’ll have to hold it for me.” She was about to add something scathing, when she thought better and forced a smile. In the sweetest tone she could muster, she asked, “Do you suppose you could climb aboard and help me, please?”
He scratched his head as he paused to consider, then strode to the tailgate, opened it, and climbed in. Once he was beside her, he dropped to his knees and cradled the sack in the crook of an arm.
“Open your mouth,” he ordered and Roanna complied.
He left her posed that way, mouth open, breathing through her nose, not daring to close it lest he empty the skin’s contents onto her face. After a moment, he began pouring. Her mouth filled and it was all she could do to keep from gagging as the water continued to stream without pause. She swallowed what she could, then managed a second gulp before he snatched the bag away.
“Better now?” he snarled as he inserted the stopper.
“Yes,” she gasped as the water ran down her chin. “Thank you.”
He left the sack on one side of the bed, then rose to a squat and vaulted over the side. When he landed, he reached in to take it, then stalked off toward his companion, gathering up the pry bar as he went.
Roanna watched as they forced one of the boxes open. They tossed the lid back and stood grinning. After a moment, the shorter man reached inside and plucked out a sword. He ran a finger along its edge and nodded before handing it to his companion. The taller one waved it about, as if dueling or testing it for balance, then nodded as well.
She didn’t know what she had been expecting, but she had heard how hard it had become to equip armies. These days, metals such as iron and brass were often in short supply, and she realized she had likely fallen into the hands of two profiteers. With this possibility in mind, she began questioning the man’s story of a bounty for spies. She thought it more likely they would sell her into slavery, and cold fingers of panic began insinuating into her thoughts.
She attempted to peer forward in time, but found she could not. While she had never been able to see the future with great clarity, she had usually been able to discern something. This time, the part of her mind that possessed that skill seemed blind. Try as she might, she saw nothing. This is wrong! she thought as panic rose within. Her need to escape was growing and she began struggling, trying to loosen her bonds. When the effort made her light-headed and the back of her head began to throb, a new thought presented itself and its possibility terrified her. When the rock had struck, had the blow to her skull somehow destroyed her ability? Her blood ran cold at the possibility she might now be like everyone else. For if it were true—and she had a hard time accepting it—without her foresight, how would she ever locate Pandy? What if the void did not, as before, signal some uncertain outcome? That she was now unable to see even one minute past the present felt the more probable reason and Roanna began to cry.