Drift: River of Falcons Book 1

Diversionary Tactics

The fishing fleet usually went down to the sea in the very early morning and came back late in the day. That, Drift thought, was why the river seemed deserted except for their little boat. She rowed boldly down the center, taking advantage of the strength of the current there.

However, at one of the bigger turns, as she was trying to maneuver back into the main current, she felt someone's eyes on her. Pausing to look around, she spotted a small boy sitting on a dock beside a large house with a water-wheel attached to it. She recognized him. He was the boy she had rocked on her lap two evenings ago. She waved as they went by.

"What are you doing?" Ubi hissed. "Don't wave!"

"He's not an enemy," Drift said.

"Doesn't matter," Ubi said. "He's not a friend either. No one is."

Drift was quiet for a while, leaning over the oars. Then she said, "Jasper's your friend, right?"

Ubi didn't reply.

"Right?" she repeated.

"It's better not to talk about it," Ubi explained. "Apprentices aren't supposed to have friends. Nor are prisoners."

Drift began to row again. "I don't have any friends," she said.

"Why not?"

"I couldn't let anyone get to know me well enough to figure out I was a girl."

*

As the boat disappeared around a bend, the Miller shouldered his axe (he'd been splitting firewood), walked over to his dock, and looked downstream. The boat had caught his eye. He turned to his son. "Who was that?" he asked.

"Fwiend," the boy said.

"It was too small to be part of the fishing fleet. Let me know if any other boats come along, will you?"

"'Nother one," the boy said, pointing upstream.

A boat was heading toward them, a larger one with a short mast and a brown sail straining in a strong breeze. The Miller glanced at the trees along the bank. They were motionless in the calm morning air. His grip tightened on the shaft of his axe. "Sorcery," he breathed. "Let's hope it's your cousin."

As the boat reached the dock, the wind died in its sail. Two guards stepped out, lashed the boat to the dock-posts, and stood at attention while an apprentice stepped ashore. He was a stocky young man with the beginnings of a mustache and a rough scar on one cheek. "Your boy looks quite healthy," he said. "He must have recovered from his fever."

"Who are you?" the Miller asked. "And why didn't my nephew come?"

"He won't be coming anymore," the apprentice said. "As for me, I was sent by Magus. That's all you need to know."

"Why won't he be coming?"

"I'm the one who asks the questions," the apprentice said. "We're looking for two children. Have you seen them?"

The little boy's glance shifted downstream.

"Did they go by in a boat?" the apprentice demanded.

"Boat," the little boy repeated, nodding.

"Go inside, your mother needs you," the Miller said, giving his son a nudge.

The boy looked puzzled, but trotted off toward the house. He would have pointed out the big turtle he'd just noticed in the long grass, but his father seemed irritated, so he decided to tell his mother about it instead. He smiled at the turtle as he passed by, and it winked back.