Sunrise Lands

About a dozen of them, Ritva thought. No, twenty.

They were obviously scouting the line of march; they poked into every clump of trees, over to the riverbed to the westward, and every ravine in these hills within range of the road.

Of course, to be really sure they should push foot pa trols up into these mountains. The ones behind her were a tangled dome two thousand feet higher than the valley floor. But if they did that, it would take weeks.

After a while more khaki-colored dust showed to the north, and a little after that an iron tramp-tramp – tramp of booted feet and the trrrripp-trrripp-trrripp of a marching drum and the squeal of a fife.

Ah, not fifty or sixty horsemen after all. Five times that number of men, but on foot, and some wagons. Lots of tools on the wagons, picks and shovels and wheelbarrows… bet those are sacks of cement, too.

At the head went the ba

Yeah, Boise, Ritva thought.

She'd never been to the city, but she'd been on their territory, and there was a lot in the Mithrilwood files. A good well-stocked filing system was one of the marks of those reckoned mighty among the wise.

As the soldiers halted and began digging in their marching camp-six-foot earthwork, ditch and pali sade-the sisters began to work their way backward. They were too far away to be seen easily, but even so they moved with exquisite care. Now that the Boise troops weren't moving, they might take the time to check the hills, or at least all the points that conveniently overlooked their camp. You never knew.. ..

A pebble turned beneath a hoof, and Mary hissed. Both young women froze. Icewater ran from Ritva's lungs to her bladder, and her body tried to twitch in reflex fear before she stilled it. Slowly, slowly Ritva turned her head within the loose hood of the war cloak.

Two men had ridden up the dry creekbed behind them and a little south. They were in thick clothes of the type you usually wore under armor; the cloth was mottled with gray and olive green as well as dark rus set, so it took a moment to realize that it was a uniform. They wore hoods over their heads as well, baglike ones with only a slit for the eyes. In fact…

Pretty much like the ones in Sutterdown last year. Uh-oh. Cutters. The Prophet's men.

The men swung down from their mounts and dropped the reins to the ground-which meant very well trained horses. They were lightly equipped: daggers, point-heavy slashing swords worn over their backs so they wouldn't rattle, quivers, horseman's bows-about what the twins were carrying. And presumably they were on the same mission as she and Mary, which was a bit of a giggle when you thought about it.

Ritva made her breathing long and steady and slow, and felt the flutters in her stomach go away. Fear worked both ways-if you suppressed the physical symptoms, it calmed your mind. Dealing with people who wanted to kill you was never really a giggling matter, particularly if they had any chance of actually doing it. Rudi and Odard had boasted about the fight in Bra

She glanced over at Mary, and caught the almost imperceptible single shake of the head. No. Her own nod was as quiet. Not worth the risk.

The two Cutters came up the slope towards the crest line, the last dozen yards on their bellies, moving slow and steady. When their heads rose above the peak of the ridge it was with glacial slowness; one brought a mon ocular to his eye, shading it with a hand to make sure it didn't flash in the setting sun. He spoke softly; his com rade dropped back until he was out of the line of sight, brought out a pad and began writing and sketching. They kept it up for a little while, and then the one with the monocular dropped down too, looked at the paper, and nodded.

Then they just waited. Perforce the twins did too; Ritva felt something crawling up her pant leg, and moved her hand down very slowly under the war cloak to kill it. Mary didn't move, but Ritva could feel her disapproval.

Well, it wasn't your sensitive bits it was going to sting, she thought. It had too many legs. They have centipedes around here! And scorpions, I think!

The sun faded westward and the wind blew colder, colder than the warm rock beneath her. The white and gray of the sagebrush desert turned colorful for an in stant, red and umber and sie

Then the light went that clear gray color you got in dry country just as the sun was dropping below the horizon-the hour between the dog and the wolf-and then it was dark. Stars frosted the sky as the last purple died from the sky westward, fading into being one by one.

Farewell, Father Sun. Mother-of All, I greet the stars that are the dust of Your feet, and… ah… Help!

Something howled far away; hard to tell, but she thought it was a lobo rather than a coyote. The two Cor winite scouts were simply darker spots. It took all her concentration to see when they finally started to move. Only a clink or two and one very slight rattle of stone on stone marked their passage-if she hadn't known they were there, she would have missed it in the general night noise.

When they got to their horses one of the beasts snorted. The enemy scout made a shushing noise and spent a moment gentling it; she hoped it hadn't scented her horse or her sister's, and that the two wouldn't an swer in kind. They were well trained, but horses had their own purposes and tended to forget things. Then the beat of hooves on sand sounded as the enemy walked their mounts away down the arroyo.

Which didn't mean they were safe. The two Cutters could be fully aware of them and just off to set up an ambush. In fact…

There was enough light to speak Sign. Ritva pushed her hands through the slits in her war cloak.

Should we get ahead of them and…?

The gesture that followed was one the Dunedain had come up with, and involved shooting, slitting and bashing motions in one quick writhing of hand, fingers and wrist.

I don't think so. Let's trail them instead.

Carefully!

The Cutter scouts looked like they were keeping to the high ground east of the valley. And they apparently knew it; all the twins had was a map copied from a pre-Change National Geographic and what they'd seen on their way up northward-and they'd taken the road most of the way. Navigating through rough ground you knew well was difficult in the dark. Trying it when it was strange country was a guarantee of getting hopelessly lost-or blundering into the enemy's main force.

The only way we're going to trail these yrch is to get ahead of them, Mary said.

Ritva hesitated; that was risky. But it was important to know where the enemy had come from. She raised her head and whistled softly; a few moments later her Duelroch and Mary's Rochael came trotting up. They slid into the saddles and turned west, down into the river valley, over the road and into the abandoned fields. Those were tall with brush and weeds, and rows of trees beside long unused irrigation ditches, but the mounts were Arabs and agile as cats… thousand-pound cats with hooves, of course.

They signaled their mounts up to a slow canter, keep ing their eyes wide for threats to their legs-once they had to crow-hop over a big disk-harrow that had been sitting and rusting and growing a coating of vine and stalk since before they were born. A barn owl went by overhead, a flash of white in the darkness and a screech as it dove through the night to carry off something small and furry spooked into motion by the riders.