The Wild Road by Jennifer Roberson Page A

billowing canvas, attempting to hold open an escape route. Mikal, as expected, was the last to leave, fighting his way through falling canvas. Throughout the grove so close to Mikal’s tent, amidst the ranks of tents surrounding the fire pit, Rhuan heard screaming. In a matter of moments all of the assembled men had dispersed, running for tents and wagons, seeking families. Dogs barked frenziedly. A horse, broken rope hanging from its halter, careened through the center of the settlement.
    The ale-tent collapsed. Then the undulations of the earth died away. All was still again, save for the sound of weeping and a woman’s raised voice, demanding explanation of a husband who knew no more than she.
    â€œSweet Mother,” Mikal said hoarsely, staring at the mass of canvas and broken poles, “how much more can we endure? How long before this stops?”
    Falsehood served nothing. Rhuan gave him the truth. “Weeks. Months. Possibly even years.”
    â€œ Years !”
    Rhuan hung onto his patience with effort; he wanted badly just to tell Mikal how he knew the answers. But not yet, if ever. “There is no predicting it, Mikal. Alisanos does as it will do.”
    â€œThen we should leave,” Mikal said sharply. “We should pack up and go as far from here as possible.”
    Rhuan shook his head. “As I told Jorda, until we know the precise boundaries of Alisanos, it’s too dangerous to test its borders.”
    â€œBut Brodhi made his way here,” Mikal protested. “There must be a safe way in. And out. He can show us.”
    Rhuan clamped his teeth closed on a sharp retort. Patiently he said, “There is danger here from Alisanos, of course, and we should leave when we know more. Remember when Brodhi arrived accompanied by Hecari from Cardatha? Would you have us risk culling parties? That’s precisely what will happen if we leave.”
    â€œAnd in the meantime we risk Alisanos?” Mikal shook his head. “At least the warriors gave us clean deaths.”
    â€œClean?” Rhuan asked. “You saw what they did, Mikal. Is it truly a clean death for a child to have his brains dashed out by a warclub?”
    Beneath a coating of dust, Mikal’s face was anguished. “Then what can we do?”
    â€œWe wait,” Rhuan said, “until we know a safe route out of here. Then we can leave. But for now—” Rhuan squatted down and took into his hand a cracked pole. “—we’ll raise this tent again.”
    DAVYN FELL TO hands and knees as the earth shuddered beneath him. He was aware of movement, of people once again running who had run from the flying beast. Cries and screams filled the air, as did shrill protests from horses and the barking of dogs. Tents began leaning. He saw the ale-tent shaking, heard the cracking of poles, saw canvas begin to billow into collapse even as men ran from the tent.
    And then he saw Rhuan. Sweet Mother, he would get answers from the guide. Even now.
    Davyn thrust himself to his feet, staggering as the earth shifted beneath his boots. Then it steadied, and he ran.
    â€œRhuan!” he cried. “Wait—”
    The karavan guide turned toward him, holding a broken tent pole. Breathless, Davyn slowed to an ungainly stop beside Mikal. “Wait,” he repeated, showing the flat of his hand in a gesture of delay. “He said you were in Alisanos, too. The other Shoia.” For a moment color suffused Rhuan’s face, then faded. “And she said so. The woman courier.” Davyn tried to regain self-control, but all he wanted to do was shout at the man, to demand an answer. “The courier said they were there, all of them. My family. Did you see them?”
    The guide’s face bore an expression of compassion. It struck Davyn that he knew very well what he said offered no hope. “I did.”
    â€œAnd they were alive?”
    Rhuan nodded. “They are in a safe