CHAPTER 3
Rondel had spent the better part of an hour with Dendera sifting through the tattered belongings her captors had left behind. Their efforts warranted one half-filled pack of supplies worth keeping.
Andrasta pretended to sleep on the far side of camp, lying on her side, back to the licking flames. Rondel ignored his partner, letting her sulk, puzzled by what had caused the sudden shift in her behavior toward the girl.
He handed Dendera the remains of their stew. She took a bite and smiled before inhaling the bowl's contents like she hadn't eaten in days.
Dendera sopped up the last of the stew with a heel of bread. Something about the girl seemed strangely familiar, but he couldn't make sense of it. She shoved the last bite in her mouth, let out a small sigh of contentment, and set the bowl down.
"Good?" he asked.
She looked at him for the first time since beginning her meal and reddened. "Very much so. Did you make it?"
"Andrasta did."
"She's a fine cook."
He looked to his partner, seeing if the compliment had roused her interest. The only movement came from the rise and fall of her torso.
"So, how'd you get yourself in that mess back there?" he asked.
"They lied to me."
"You don't say."
She scowled. "Make fun of me all you want. I was hungry and desperate for food. I didn't really think things through when I ran away. I had gone through all my supplies and money sooner than I expected to. The old woman offered me work. I was supposed to do some odd chores for her as we traveled to Pilak. I was heading there anyway so it made sense to take her offer." She paused. "She seemed nice enough at the time."
"I'll bet. Then what?"
"I met the rest of her family. The sons made me uncomfortable right away, but I didn't have many other options. Once we left the inn where we met, they tied me up."
"You should have followed your gut," said Rondel.
"Easy to say now, but I didn't know what else to do."
"So, you just hoped for the best."
"More or less."
"It must be an awful thing you're running from to take those kinds of gambles."
"I thought so," she muttered.
"You said you're heading toward Pilak. What's so special there?"
"It's the fastest way out of my father's lands. Someone was liable to spot me if I went north. Pilak is not necessarily my final stopping point." She paused. "You know people call it the gateway to better things."
"The way you've handled things so far, it sounds like the gateway to your death."
She puffed herself up. "We'll see."
"So you're going to keep trying things on your own then?"
"Yes. I've got supplies again and a horse. I've learned my lesson. I'll be all right."
Rondel doubted it and was about ready to say so when Dendera turned her head to cough. The high-pitched nasally sound made him cringe.
Something clicked inside his head, unlocking the secret to a riddle he hadn't been able to answer.
"By the gods," he whispered.
Dendera looked up. "What?"
"I can't believe I didn't see it before. Granted, you don't look like the little girl I remember." He shook his head. "I guess Dendera is a popular enough name in this region that it didn't register for me, even with that platinum hair when everyone else's is black. But that cough . . . even after all these years, I couldn't forget that."
