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Knowing it was only a matter of time before someone noticed the sentry was missing or found his body, Benjin hurried through the trees, looking for the game trail he used to hunt. When he found it, he took a moment to change into the soldier's uniform, and he stashed his clothes near the trail. He tucked his hair beneath the jacket collar and hoped his disguise would be sufficient, though he knew it was thin.
Getting to Harborton was as easy as following a series of trails through the woods that dominated the foothills, but when he reached the edge of town, his task became a great deal more difficult-the darkness his only boon. After sifting through a garbage heap on the outskirts, Benjin found some things that might help him get to the Watering Hole without having to answer any questions. He cut the top off an old leather flask and filled it with a noxious mixture of rotting vegetables and stale wine, and he hid the flask within his coat.
When the moon was high, Benjin walked the streets, doing his best to look as if he belonged there. Careful pla
At the end of the alley, he could see his destination. The faded and chipped sign above the i
Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself for what would likely be the most dangerous part of his journey. A patrol of soldiers walked the streets looking half asleep and utterly disinterested, and Benjin waited for them to pass. As soon as they were out of sight, he left the safety of the shadows and walked into the moonlight, hoping no one chose this moment to leave the i
With an ill-advised burst of speed, he covered the last bit of distance between himself and the shadows alongside the i
"Who's there?" the man asked in Zjhonlander, and Benjin nearly stumbled as he was taken by surprise. Quickly he turned and leaned over, making vomiting sounds and pouring some of his foul mixture on the ground. "If you can't hold your drink, you shouldn't indulge," the man said as he came closer. "What's your name, soldier? Whom do you serve under?"
Benjin felt a hand on his shoulder, and he prayed for good luck. As he turned toward the soldier, he never raised his head, and he made more retching noises, and then he poured the rest of his mixture on the man's boots. The soldier stepped back, and Benjin waited to see if his plan had worked or if it would be the end of him. The soldier must have gotten a whiff of the foul mixture and Benjin heard his stomach heave. Without another word, the man turned and left, probably hoping to keep the contents of his stomach where they were.
As soon as the man turned the corner, Benjin stumbled around the back of the i
When the kitchen door suddenly swung inward, Benjin crouched down, but Miss Mariss saw him instantly. Her face registered no surprise or fear; she simply held a finger to her lips, grabbed half a loaf of bread, and walked back to the common room. Admiring her strength, Benjin moved to a darkened corner and waited. It took some time for Miss Mariss to convince her unwelcome guests that the i
"It's good to see you, Benjin," she said after leading him to a place between the stacks of crates and barrels, most of which appeared to be empty. "There's been much worry over the safety of you and those in your care."
"We've worried about you as well."
"I've got it good compared to most. I have to put up with the scoundrels in my i
Benjin nodded his agreement, and they settled down to discuss their plans.
When five days had passed and Catrin and the others still had seen no sign of Benjin, they were worried, but they tried to be optimistic.
"I'm sure he's just being extra careful, and all the rain we've been having is probably slowing him down as well," Chase said.
"Knowing Benjin, he's probably so overloaded with salt and cheese that he'll barely make it back before the first snow." Strom laughed.
After ten days, the group was anxious and restless. Catrin had so much pent-up energy, she thought she could probably sprint all the way to the ocean. She was fretful and paced constantly.
"I'm going fishing," Strom a
"I think I'll go hunting in the high reaches today," he said nonchalantly.
"The high reaches?" Catrin asked. "What kind of game do you expect to find up there? Goat?"
"Perhaps no game at all. I want to find a high place with a good view of the valley. I have a bad feeling about Benjin."
No one disagreed, and Strom offered to go with him, but they jointly decided one person stood less of a chance of being spotted than two. They were going against Benjin's orders, but they all felt compelled to do something-anything. Catrin and Osbourne felt helpless, left without much to do.
"I think we should keep watch while they're gone," Osbourne said, looking pale and shaken. "I'll take first watch."
"I'm going to look again for another exit from the cavern in case we need it," Catrin said.
She retrieved a coil of rope and a couple of torches that Benjin had fashioned and made her way back to the old raft. She lowered the logs to the ground and lashed them together. It was a hot job, and her eyes burned with sweat by the time she finished, but the raft looked strong. She grunted with effort as she pushed off into the dark water. The raft seemed to float well, and she hoped it would be stable. She pulled it back to shore.
Searching through the woodpile, she found a branch she could use to push herself across the water. It still had leaves on one end, and she hoped it would work like an oar if the water got too deep for poling. When she returned to the fire to light one of her torches, Osbourne looked concerned.
"I don't think it's a good idea for you to go off on that raft. It's not safe."
"Nothing we do these days is safe. But don't worry; I'll be fine."