Wolfwalker by Tara K. Harper

Author:Tara K. Harper [Harper, Tara K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780345482334
Amazon: 0345482336
Publisher: Random House
Published: 1995-01-03T08:00:00+00:00

It was sunset. The sky was as bloody as the day was long, and Aranur found himself on the decks of the last ship in Red Harbor, watching the captain shake his head as Shilia, Gamon, and the others waited below. Aranur could see Dion talking desultorily with his uncle, her hand absently tugging at the wolf’s ear as they waited for his return.

“Dammit, man, give us a chance,” he said harshly to the captain. “If not for me and the men, then at least take the women through to Randonnen. We’ll pay double the normal fare.”

The captain shook his head. “The weather’s shaping up for a hurricane roundwind. Only a suicidal fool would be caught out in those swells.” He turned away and yelled at a sailor who was lounging by one of the unbattened hatches.

“Triple fare. In gold.”

The captain did not even hesitate. “Sorry. Even ten times the gold wouldn’t be enough.” He turned back briefly, noting the desperate gleam in the weary man’s eyes. “You’d have better luck going out over the South Road, even with the flooding coming up.”

“Damn you,” Aranur swore. “Damn you to the second hell. Isn’t there one man brave enough to sail through to Randonnen?”

The captain looked at him measuringly. “You won’t find a sober man in Red Harbor to take a ship out now. I’m sorry.”

He turned, and Aranur was left standing at the rail, his face haggard and his eyes bleak with the realization that Clintner’s net was closing in and there was no way out. He almost staggered with weariness as he swung onto the gangplank and barely caught himself before he fell. They would have to take dnu again, he thought, then dismissed the idea as quickly as it had come. They had already run into two patrols in town, barely escaping from the last one as they fought their way through to the dark alleys of Red Harbor’s slum.

Slinking from one block of the town’s ghetto to the next, Aranur had already paid dearly for the scant time spent hiding. He rubbed his thigh absently where the muscles were stiff and swollen from the blow he had taken from a dnu’s hoof and forced himself to land quiet and catlike on the dock, ignoring the shooting pain that tightened his jaw. That Salmi had called in his own raiders and added them to Clintner’s force was a move Aranur had hoped the raider captain would not make for at least another day, but Clintner must have wanted them more than the gray-eyed man had supposed—the word was out, and even the barrio folk were interested in the reward.

The lean man spit. As if he could rid his mouth of the dank smell of rotting seajel, he snorted, scraping his boot on the dock. The purple-green slime was everywhere. It was just as well that he had sold the dnu, he thought, since chancing the overland route would mean risking a fight every kilometer. And dnu could be outdistanced by message pigeons, he reminded himself.

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