The wind wafted savory and sweet. Alexander saw Riley and Ruskin turn their heads toward the breeze and then he caught it.
Roasting meat.
Alexander’s step lightened as he heard the sound of tremulous singing, distant. He turned his head, questioning, and his heart quickened as he realized they were approaching the source. At the top of a rise, spread out along the side of the Commerce Road lay a wide camp. The Gallian crest, a pike breaching a moon, emblazoned the banners and tents.
Riley turned to him and pointed toward the campfires spit-roasting hogs.
Alexander pointed her towards the lines of tied horses.
“We can’t steal their horses!” Riley was aghast.
Alexander put his finger in the center of her chest. He mimed talking with his hand in the air, then shrugged.
She pushed him away, not hard. “What are they doing, anyway? The borders are closed!” Her nose turned toward the smell and her eyes sharpened. “Unless Mother opened them.”
Alexander shrugged again. He pointed toward the setting sun, held his hand level in the air and lowered it.
Her lips twisted. Riley said, “Yes, yes, the sun will set. No one is rustling horses in the daylight.”
He swept his hand toward a copse of trees.
She followed him off the path of six-sided cobbles.
Maybe I don’t need my voice. I’m getting better at this.
They crouched in the shadows and moved closer to the conglomeration of carriages and revelers.
Gallian courtiers? They look too good for anything else.
The sun took its time setting. Riley fidgeted. Ruskin disappeared. Alexander crept closer and saw the dog begging sweetly from the Gallian nobles. A woman in a bright pink dress was ripping bits off a turkey leg and Ruskin was doing flips for her.
If she steals him, how could I ever get him back?
The dog leapt into the air and snatched the whole leg from her hand. She put her hand to her mouth and Alexander could hear the Gallian giggle in his mind. There was a lilt to the way women laughed in Gallia. As though they were ashamed someone might hear.
A man in shining armor, festooned with medallions, wrapped an arm around her and led her into the circle of dancers.
Who else would waltz on the grass?
Alexander lost track of his terrier until he felt the grease of turkey skin prod his hand.
Riley was staring.
He ripped off half the meat and handed it to her.
“So you even trained the dog to be a thief.” She devoured the meat in a bite.
Alexander put his hand to his heart. The turkey was good.
The sun dead once more, the Gallians let their wine take them to bed. Sentries smoked long black cigarettes. Riley started creeping forward.
Alexander followed. Ruskin crept after on his belly. Alexander sniggered and picked up the dog.
The white horses loomed tall in the moonlight. Their manes cropped in tall plumes, they had been curried and washed after the days ride.
Riley slashed the ropes and they startled in fear. She shushed them, but Alexander leapt onto the back of the nearest one. He waved frantically at her to follow.
She mounted and he heard the cry of a sentry.
Time to move.