The day was done. The sun was down, the Demon Wood was dark, and its nocturnal residents were becoming active. The knockers, the wagoneers, the camp workers, and the coffle master were all asleep in their tents. The children were huddled on the ground covered by filthy blankets; the chain that held them was secured to the trunk of an everwood.
The coffle master was sitting on his bedroll at the fire with three of his deputies. The fourth was posted on guard duty, along with two of the adult slaves. Hunter’s bounty was one of the bodies at the fire. His turn at watch, Hunter knew, was to begin soon.
Thanks to the little charade in front of the church earlier that day, the stage was set for the final phase of Hunter’s plan. Their bounty was now under Autumn’s spell. With a little luck, he would doze off during his watch and that would be the end of it.
In the unlikely event that he managed to stay awake for his entire watch, the bounty hunters would move to a riskier Plan B and abduct him the hard way. Regardless, though, this night was their last opportunity, because tomorrow night their bounty would be sleeping in the barracks at the Chateau.
Hunter’s position high in the everwood tree above the coffle gave him a commanding view of the battlefield below. He could see the camp, see their horses, see his bounty, and see the slaves. He could hear the banter around the fire, the snoring from the tents, and the anxiety of the horses. He could also coordinate with his compatriots using sounds the humans either could not hear or were unable to distinguish from the background noise of the forest at night.
Decades of experience as a bounty hunter told Hunter that their mission was likely moving forward to a successful conclusion. If there was a bump in the road that could divert their plan from its path it might be the cough of the little girl that appeared now to be spreading to others.
Under normal circumstances, he would be able to count on the cruelty of the slavers to ignore the child’s cough and stick to their normal patterns. However, these were not normal circumstances. One of these slavers was a different color.
Hunter suspected he was not a slaver at all. Yes, he was a fugitive and yes, he was the fugitive Hunter and his crew intended to capture, but he was a fugitive who was clearly up to something else. And Hunter’s failure to solve that mystery — so far – was the only reason the fugitive was still a free man.
“Sounds like that cough done took,” said one of the deputies.
Captain Lewis silently clenched his jaw. Another cough emerged from the darkness. This one was not a child’s cough.
“Damn!” Walking to the edge of the firelight, he raised his voice. “You sick, too, Moonshine?”
“Naw,” replied a voice from the darkness. “I’m good.”
Shoulda done the three silver treatment, the coffle master chastised himself. “What about y’all?” he demanded of the group at the fire. One by one, they all told him that they were fine.
“I’m like the guy who jumped off the Tower of Torinth,” LT said with a smirk.
“What about him?” asked the captain.
“As he was falling, people on each floor kept hearing him say, ‘So far, so good!’”
“And?”
“So far so good,” LT replied, eyes sparkling playfully.
“That’s a dumb goddam joke,” the captain replied with a glare. “You’re up. Go relieve Porkchop.”
LT stood up, adjusted his gear and headed out into the darkness. His path took him directly under Hunter. As LT passed the coffle, he checked the chain to make certain it was secure. Two of the children were coughing. The youngest girl’s cough was especially bad and it seemed to be getting worse.
Hunter took it all in from his perch. He heard the joke, watched LT adjust his gear, watched him check the slave chain, and noted an intense pulse of red as he passed the girl with the cough. “Ain’t right,” he heard LT mutter under his breath.
At precisely that moment Hunter heard a cricket trill at a slightly lower frequency than all of the other sounds in the background. It was Scout letting him know she was awake and ready in her assigned spot. Hearing that, he waited for a response from Autumn verifying that he was in place as well. 100 heartbeats later … nothing.
Below him on the ground, LT relieved his comrade and carefully surveyed the darkness waiting for his eyes to adjust. When his eyes and ears convinced him that everything was as it should be, he moved stealthily to the slaves.
Keeping one eye on the deputies gathered around the fire, LT opened his canteen, sat the little girl up and gave her a long drink. When she finished, he wiped the canteen with his sleeve and gave the other coughing child a long drink as well. Then he wiped the canteen one more time and put it back in his coat. The coughing subsided.
All of this Hunter watched with interest. Wha’choo up to, boy? he asked himself silently. Wha’choo up to?
Why would a wanted man take a Company contract? More importantly, why would he take a contract that took him toward the Chateau and not away from it? It was an extraordinary risk.
This wrinkle – this unexpected behavior from a fugitive – was the reason Hunter was waiting until the last possible moment to pull the trigger on an abduction that should have happened days ago. Hunter knew LT was up to something, but he did not yet know what.
That was the moment at which everything changed.
Nothing about that moment seemed unexpected. Hunter was in a tree, which to be honest was where one would normally find him. The slaves were in their chains. The coffle master and his deputies were lying down on their bedrolls. Everything and everyone was exactly where one would expect to find them — except the gnolls.