He took from Jain the knapsack she had slipped from her own shoulders; the forage bag of the woodland women which contained salt and meal, taters and dried meat, tinder ... all the small necessities of a hasty trek.
"Guard von Rath well, Chuck. I'll be looking forward to meeting him again when I return. And now—good-bye. No, Beth! I have said you must stay here."
For the girl had followed him to the doorway. But there was no stubborn insistence in her eyes as she lifted them to his. There was, instead, something else. Something incredible. A softness Stephen Duane had thought never to find mirrored in the eyes of a woman such as this, his warrior priestess.
In a small and trembling voice she whispered, "I shall come no farther than this, O Dwain. But—but before you depart, can we not as man and woman once more perform the touching-of-mouths you taught me?"
And the nearness of her warmed him for the perilous journey ahead.
Stephen Duane had hoped to catch Rodrik of Mish-kin before that traitorous Brother of the Daans reached his Sinnaty goal. He had vowed to press forward at forced speed, halting no oftener than was absolutely necessary. But one thing he had failed to take into account was the fact that the urgency spurring Rodrik was as great as that which goaded himself. Rodrik knew vengeful swords would pursue him. He knew his life was forfeit should he be apprehended before he attained the sanctuary of the Daan citadel. So fear lent him a speed commensurate with Steve's determination, and because he was a strong man, woodland-trained, he maintained his precious advantage over his pursuer.
So closely did Duane press him that once, in the coolness of the dawn, he found a pallet of leaves still warm where Rodrik had rested briefly during the night. Again he found upon the roadway both used tattered shreds of a still-hot carcass; a rabbit Rodrik had killed and eaten raw, not daring to take time to cook his meal.
But it was not until Steve passed half through the deserted village of Covton and saw lifting before him the shimmering arch of the Sinnaty bridge that he actually glimpsed his quarry. Then, though his legs had been leaden with exhaustion, he spurred himself to one last desperate effort and almost closed the gap between himself and the fleeing Rodrik.
But the Mish-kinite, whose flight had been that of a frightened Janus,[7] turned and saw him—and he, too, whipped a final reserve of energy from his flagging body.