CHAPTER TWELVE

The Borderlands of Hosea

G ood news.

Lister had been sleeping soundly, Inardle warm against his body, when Isaiah spoke in his mind and woke him.

“What?” he whispered, feeling Inardle stirring.

Maximilian is with me in Sakkuth. I have him. Ishbel drew him like a lodestone.

“Oh, praise all gods!” Lister said, sitting up and snatching at a cloak to wrap about his shoulders. He would be more than glad when he could swap this tent for more salubrious surroundings.

At his side Inardle opened her eyes, watching her lover carefully, while outside the never-ending stream of Skraelings continued south, south, south.

“You shall not lose him?” Lister added, a little anxiously.

I hope not—I will not hold him prisoner, Lister. I do not think he will try to escape.

“He knows about the baby?”

Yes. He knows. He despairs.

“As should we all,” Lister said. “Did you speak of Elcho Falling?”

Yes. But tonight was not the time to speak of it in depth.

“Soon, perhaps. Tell me, when do you leave for the Salamaan Pass?”

Within a few days. Where are you?

“Approaching Hosea. Isaiah…the Skraelings are changing.”

In what manner, Lister?

“They are growing dogs’ heads.”

[ Part Nine ]