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“Of course—”
“And my weapons? What about them?”
“Cleaned, oiled, and wrapped in cloth. What else?”
“Nothing,” Bela said. “We eat and we go.”
Ana said her good-byes. She had a few good hours before sunset, and she wanted to forage for greens in the fields above Ryz. Maryshka, however, loitered about while Ilse and Bela ate an early supper. After she and Ilse washed dishes, Ilse fetched Duska from the barn, and together the two of them loaded saddlebags onto the mare, then packed the fresh provisions into Ilse’s backpack. Ilse accepted additional packets of herb and salt, a lump of sourdough wrapped in cloth, and other miscellaneous supplies with thanks.
Maryshka watched with bright curious eyes. “I won’t ask questions, though I want to. I wish you well on your journey.”
“I wish you good fortune, in whatever life brings you,” Ilse replied.
“A fair wish to make,” said Jannik Maier.
He came toward them from the direction of his house. He must have left the fields early, Ilse thought. Was he making certain they didn’t linger in Ryz? Then she noticed he, too, carried a pack slung over one shoulder, and gripped a thick walking staff.
“You’ll need a guide,” he said.
“So I will. I thought you forgot.”
His mouth twisted at her tone, but all he said was, “We should go. We need to make those hills before dark.”
He dropped his pack and his stick to one side, and between the three of them, he, Ilse, and Maryshka helped Bela to mount Duska. Once in the saddle, Bela sat with her eyes closed, her hands gripping the saddle horn. She was sweating.
“We should wait another day,” Ilse said.
“No,” Bela whispered. “I can manage.”
She offered a faint smile, but her color was paler and grayer than Ilse liked. “We stop at sunset.”
“Later,” Jannik said. “We must get well away from Duszranjo before nightfall.”
He swung his pack over one shoulder and took up his staff. Eyeing him and Bela, Ilse did the same. Maryshka had not spoken the whole time, but she was gazing at the speaker with an intensity that spoke of a future interrogation.
A brief hug with Maryshka. A last farewell. Then Ilse and her companions set off from Ryz.
* * *
JANNIK LED THEM up to the familiar ridge overlooking the village. Ilse glanced down the hillside. Men and women were at work in the fields, harvesting the last crops before winter. Several older children were tending goats in the fields by the river. One slim figure stood apart from the others. Maryshka, watching them.
One last silent farewell, then she hurried after Jannik, along the ridge, to a branching path that climbed upward into the hills. As they entered the mountain forests, Ryz, its fields, and the river vanished from sight. Scraps of blue sky showed between the branches overhead, and sunlight illuminated the upper tree trunks, but the path itself remained cast in shadows. The scent of pine overwhelmed everything.
An hour or more passed as they climbed ever upward, the path winding around through the hills and into the mountains. Jannik said nothing, only stopping when he guessed Ilse was tired, or to signal a rough patch ahead. Bela was silent, too. She seemed to have shrunk inside herself. Only when Ilse glanced back did she rouse enough to shake her head.
The sun was slanting down, and the light darkened to gold when Ilse finally asked, “How much longer?”
“Two hours,” Jannik said.
He spoke with finality. And more than a bit of anxiety. Ilse lapsed back into silence.
They marched another hour, the path winding higher and higher, until it rounded a shoulder into the mountains themselves. Here the trees thinned into a clearing. A stream bounced over the rocks nearby, and judging by the firepit, Ilse suspected Jannik had come this way before to meet with the smugglers.
He and Ilse set up camp, with one shelter for her and Bela, another for him. Ilse built up a fire, while Jannik fetched fresh water from the stream. After a hasty meal of smoked venison, Ilse helped Bela to lie down closest to the fire and covered her with blankets. Bela insisted her leg was almost healed, but Ilse did not believe her. Once she saw her friend asleep, she returned to the dying fire where Jannik sat.
“Tomorrow we meet your smugglers?” Ilse said.
“Tomorrow afternoon at the latest,” Jannik said. “They have a way station the next mountain over.”
