Jesson ran one of its tendrils over its hairless head, a nervous gesture it had picked up from prolonged human contact. Air whistled out of its spiracles in a frustrated sigh. "This has to be the stupidest thing you've ever done."
Trevor held his knife between his teeth and used both hands to keep the wriggling baby in place. The naked baby lay, giggling, on one of Trevor's old shirts. "I couldn't just leave her there." He hewed at the fabric, cutting excess pieces away.
"You don't know where that baby has been. You don't know who it belongs to or--"
"I know exactly where the baby was. I found her on that altar."
"In a temple, in a swamp, belonging to thrice-cursed Cs'e'erah! What if she was left there for a reason, huh? What if she was a sacrifice made to appease the Dread Sister?"
"Cs'e'erah should have been quicker to pick her up then, wouldn't you say?" Trevor tied the shirt's remnants into a rudimentary diaper. He cut away the tassels dangling from the preponderance of knots he had tied. The baby stretched out a hand to the flashing metal and cooed.
Jesson wrapped a tentacle around the child's wrist and jerked one of its eyestalks away when the baby stretched out to grab it with the other hand. Its other eye glared at Trevor, who had a satisfied look on his face. "Why did I agree to this madness, again?"
"Fame and wealth. Mostly the fame, I'd hope. I also think the compulsion may also have played a small role." The Bibliomancer stepped back lightly and dipped his head in a curt nod. "Let's name her Fortuna. That seems appropriate, given how lucky she was that we came through when we did."
"You are not serious. This child will just get in the way!" Jesson's voice had grown higher and shriller than usual, and magenta blooms were spreading over the Grinn's pale flesh.
"I'll keep her quiet, promise. The Borenan rebels will be able to take her off our hands once we meet with them. Or would you rather that Cs'e'erah receive this girl's energies?"
Jesson flailed two tentacles around, swatting at the drooping branches of a tree that had been unfortunate enough to grow in the wastes near Staxal. It could not win an argument with the human, not when he had his mind made up already. "If the child makes undue noise, I swear upon Maurcke that I will strangle the life from her myself!"
"Fair deal." Trevor lifted the baby and squinted skywards. "The day's getting on. We have some miles we can cover before it gets dark." He began walking to the northeast, feet squelching and sinking into the moist soil. He mumbled nonsense words to the baby as he went.
Jesson piped its frustrations to the uncaring wilderness and followed.
---
Sprusba squatted and rested his elbows atop his knees. His broad fingertips brushed the ground, gouging small furrows into the dirt and detritus. "Lady Lucinda, I found a thing."
Lucinda pushed past Kravin. "What is it?" she asked. She was tired of her journey, disgusted by her surroundings. Her hair, dirty and listless, twitched from the power she discharged in her ire.
The Chubs pinched a scrap of cloth between his thumb and forefinger. It hung listlessly, discolored and half-rotted by the time it had spent in the swamp. "Clothing fabric." He pointed at other pieces which lay on the ground. "More there and there."
Kravin rubbed at one dirty cheek with an equally dirty hand and asked the question before Lucinda. "Does it belong to him?"
Sprusba grunted. "Could be, could not." He tossed aside the cloth and regarded Lucinda with his deep-set eyes. "If he went that way, would be in the way of East Borena. Could be he went there. Easy to get lost in a big city."
"Easy to be found, too," Kravin said. The Mageslayer dropped his pack into the muck with a sodden plop and dug out a strip of dried fruit. "And Cs'e'erah would gain little by extending protection over a known fugitive, not with things standing as they do."
Lucinda shook her head. "He is craftier than that."
Sprusba chuckled. "He is crafty enough to know that you know he is craftier than that." The Chubs got to his feet with a quiet grunt. "It is my thought that we go along this trail."
Kravin remained unconvinced. "Why cut strips away like that? Was he wounded? They certainly were not torn loose. The edges are too straight." The Mageslayer chewed and swallowed a piece of the fruit. "I think it's a distraction. It seems to contrived and convenient."
Lucinda closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I agree. If we follow the wrong trail, we fall behind and it will be even harder to backtrack. That is something he would have done."
Sprusba nodded, though reluctantly. "Understood. We keep walking that way, then." The Chubs pointed out through the mossy canopy, at the mountain. It was not a good mountain, and Sprusba had aired his misgivings numerous times as they marched closer and closer to its base. Lucinda trusted in his judgment. After all, Chubs resided in the Rocky Succor, the long mountain range that stretched from near Nostrum, in Cahllyn's realm, through the Freelance regions, and into Greatah's domain before terminating to the west of Vijo Geme.
But she had a quarry to retrieve, and she would do this regardless of whether she had to climb to Staxal's peak or descend into the darkest bowels beneath the mountain.
Lucinda shifted her rod from one hand to the other. "Let us continue. We have a number of miles we can cover yet before night falls." She continued walking to the southeast, carefully feeling out the driest possible path with the butt of her staff. Kravin hurried to catch up, gingerly stepping around Sprusba.
Sprusba took a final look at the mysterious pieces of fabric strewn along the trail. A nervous rumble echoed through his stout chest as he followed.
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