How Not to Poach a Unicorn

Seventeen

As they were nearing a town on the sixth day, they came across a distressing sight. Crossing their southward road at almost a right angle was a straight, wide path of torn up and beaten down soil.

"That's an army marching," Kish observed. Her brow furrowed viciously as she picked through the muddy tracks. "They passed this way yesterday, maybe the day before. They're headed east. The war is starting. We're going to miss it."

"We won't miss it." Cariolta tried to comfort her. "There's a lot of posturing and name-calling that precedes these things. We will miss some skirmishes, but it will be some time yet before the armies are assembled and ready to really fight. We'll be there in time. And we'll bring help."

Kish wasn't listening. All she could hear were the horns of war and the stomping hooves of the elk riders galloping beside her as she led the charge. It took several moments before the Battle Maiden could kill the urge in her to chase down the marching army herself and continue on the road to Caneria. Despite the strength of the call to war, she knew in her heart that she could not leave her companion behind, nor could they fight beside each other in the war as it was. She stormed on in silence.

They reached the outskirts of a sizable town at dusk. It was the end of the sixth day. There was a long and very quiet goodbye. Prag was out of reasons to stay and as much as she wanted to, Cariolta couldn't come up with any money or reasonable leverage to keep him. She watched helplessly as her filthy protector waved casually and wandered off into the bustling streets of a night market, leaving the others huddled around a small fire hidden in a copse of trees.

Prag wasn't as happy about the parting as he played. There were two reasons that he would admit to himself. First and foremost was that he had utterly failed to bed Kish—not that he had tried, nor did he believe that he'd have any success if he did, nor did he think anything but trouble would come from it. But he wouldn't think himself a man if he didn't want the impossibly fit body of the eastern princess. The other was that Warlis had hired him to kill a wizard. He didn't officially take the job, but he did take the money and he wasn't going to ignore someone breaking contract by killing a bunch of his friends. He had figured that the wizard would probably try to take another shot at the ladies, but they had been too good at staying out of sight since the night in Orl. He eventually decided that he could investigate better on his own and sticking with the royals would make him soft.

The four remaining travellers sat in silence around their fire.

They dined on their day's catch of one very small rabbit. The sparse meal only served to emphasize the shared sadness at losing their hired muscle. Each felt the loss in their own way: Cariolta felt as though she had lost a brother; Kish, a strategic asset; Kazé, a shield made of meat; and the boy, he was at a complete loss and had no idea what was happening at all.

He stayed quiet, trying to decide why nobody else was talking. He decided that it was an important thing and he shouldn't interrupt. However, the food ran out and he got bored quickly. Then he noticed something flying through the trees. "Pijin!" he shouted gleefully and started to run after it into the night.

"I'll get him," growled Kazé, stretching out and getting ready to run.

"No." Kish hopped up. "He's headed for town and you're glowing like you're on fire under this moon. I'll go after him." She started to run after her overzealous companion as fast as her petticoat would allow, quietly cursing the impracticality of Haelund fashion.

Prag made his way through the bustling night market. He picked through various food stalls and their patrons' pockets. Eventually he settled at a somewhat secluded noodle counter and exchanged his ill-gotten gains for a steaming bowl of noodles and vegetables. He was somewhat wary of a well-groomed and well-dressed man two seats down from him. The man was engrossed in his soup and it wasn't until he looked up directly at Prag that he recognized him.