The Kuakgan led her out of town, eastward. Paks followed, the black horse stepping along lightly. He turned as she caught up with him.

"I think you have done well so far," he said. "Ride ahead, now, and turn back when you come to the edge of the grove."

Paks nudged the horse into a slow trot, halted and turned where she was bid, and rode back.

"He should have no more trouble with those scars," said the Kuakgan. "He's moving easier. Could you feel it?"

"It seems springier, somehow."

"Yes, and he will be able to do some of those fancy things the Marshal would like to teach you. Too bad they're used for fighting only. If it did not risk his death or yours, I'd be happier about it." He smiled up at her. "But you and he were meant to be so, perhaps. I wish you well, Paksenarrion. You may come again to the grove, if you wish; you have a definite talent with animals. That is, in part, what hurt you so when you misused it." He waved and turned away. Paks sat still, and watched him cross the road and enter the grove by leaping the wall. She almost called a warning, then realized that it would hold no perils for him. He had disappeared among the trees when she lifted the reins and rode to the grange along the street for the first time.

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

In the next few days, Paks rode along most of the roads near town, and began to explore the small lanes and paths that led to outlying farmsteads. She found nothing; she was not even sure what she was looking for. But at least, she thought, she had a better idea of the surrounding land. It was richer than the land around Three Firs. Most farm folk had an orchard of apples and pears; for grain they grew wheat as well as northern barley and oats. Redroots, onions, and other vegetables grew in every kitchen garden. Paks saw the local hogs, hefty red beasts with yellow eyes, rooting in the roadside woods and hedges. Sleek dun-colored cattle with dark horns grazed the pastures.

Then, returning to Brewersbridge on the west road one afternoon, she got her first clue. Low sun behind her threw her shadow far ahead. In that slanting light, she saw something glint on a treetrunk beside the road. She rode toward it, suddenly alert.

As she came nearer, she saw that it was nothing but the tree itself—instead of dark furrowed bark, pale underbark lay open to the sun from a narrow gash. Paks halted the black horse, her brow furrowed in thought. She'd heard of such signs—the scouts in the Duke's Company had had a system of marks on trees and wayside rocks. But she had no idea what this one meant—if indeed it were anything but an accident.