Page 107 of Keeper of the Word
“I suppose you’re right, Tolvar. I shall send a message on the morrow.”
Tolvar kept his forehead relaxed. Patience. Forebearance.
“Why the battle today, Turas? Do you not agree that this is becoming beyond pointless? Sitting here like grazing cattle. Then trading wounds. Even killing each other. Let us parley tomorrow so we can all return to our business. I know you feel as I do that you do not want more blood on your hands.”
Turas sat forward. “Blood onmyhands? What about Greenwood’s hands? Or yours, for that matter. I hear a town of yours is now ashes. Why do not you attend to your own business and leave me to mine.”
“Killing each other in a senseless battle isn’t the same matter, Turas. You could have stopped today’s.”
“Today’s? I did not kill anyone today.”
Tolvar gazed at the ceiling before rubbing a hand across his face. “Very well, not you. But your men did.”
“Nay, they did not. No one was killed today.”
Tolvar tightened his grip on his cup. “No one? You swear to it?”
Turas leaned back in his chair and set down his goblet. “Swear? Bold words, Tolvar. But, aye, if you need that for whatever righteous indignation you are carrying around this time, my men killed no one today. I swear.”
“Very well,” Tolvar managed, standing.
“I shall consider your words.”
“About Ashwin?”
“Nay, but stars know I am needed back in Blagdon. Another four carts of exports went missing in the North Forest.”
Tolvar had almost forgotten about the North Forest. Another log to pile onto this flaming mess.
“I’ll send a message come morning.” Turas opened the flap of the tent for Tolvar to exit.
Tolvar and his men had almost made it to the Askella border when he jerked Valko’s reins to a halt.
“Change of course. Come.” Tolvar maneuvered Valko in the opposite direction and trotted back to Anscom’s camp. They skirted the perimeter of the camp, hidden in the trees and letting the campfires guide them to the spot Tolvar sought. Near the edge that bordered the main road leading back to Blagdon, Tolvar slid off Valko but silently signaled for the men to stay on their mounts. He gave Valko’s reins to Herry and crept into Anscom’s camp.
Here, there were pallets of supplies, with a few wagons still filled with what must have been delivered today. Two sentries stood facing the road, their backs to Tolvar. Some yards away was a gigantic pile of hay that stood next to a makeshift corral. Lining that was various tools. Pitchforks, a rake, and a half-dozen spades. Tolvar grabbed two spades and tiptoed back to where his men waited.
“What are those for?” Herry whispered as he handed Valko’s reins to Tolvar after he’d strapped the spades to his saddle.
“Surety.”
They continued their methodical, quiet ride around the far circumference of Anscom’s camp, past the open field, until theyreached the east border of Greenwood’s camp, far opposite of Askella’s camp.
Silently, Tolvar dismounted in a cluster of trees and tied Valko to a branch. Herry and the others did likewise as Tolvar fetched the spades.
Tolvar stood under the cover of the trees. Listening. Waiting. Eyes searching. Other than a few scratching noises from a woodland creature, all was quiet. Before him was a field drawn with a stretch of overturned earth. Beyond that, campfire lights from Greenwood’s camp dotted the distance.
“What is this place?” Herry whispered.
“A mass graveyard.”
The knights exchanged glances. “Why are we here?” Timth asked. “M’lord?”
Ghlee’s first message about Himmex had given Tolvar an idea.Would it not have been wild to discover ’twas all a hoax?Coupled with Ghlee’s more ominous message—the dead walking—Tolvar had to be sure.
Greenwood and Turashadmet. And they’d both kept that from him. But their stories had conflicted.
When Tolvar was certain that no sentry lurked in the shadows, he stepped onto the field and walked to the mound of dirt, the others following. He crouched, taking a handful. It crumbled in his fingers. Dry, aye, but it didn’t necessarily mean that dirt hadn’t been moved today. It hadn’t rained for some time.
