It was hours later, when the grey mountains had grown considerably and Esmeralda had begun to wriggle in the uncomfortable stone seat and tight ropes, that Acheron got an unwelcome message. One of his soldiers, a very large Phoon with long, dangling arms, came to the rear compartment of the Crawler, walking carefully in order to remain upright amidst the irregular motion. The creature stood precariously at attention and waited for Acheron to acknowledge him.
“Yes,” he said.
“Followed,” the Phoon barked.
“What?” Acheron had very little patience.
The Phoon warrior made an ugly choking sound in its throat and sniffed the air dramatically. “Followed. Two times. Followed.”
Acheron raised himself up, moved behind Esmeralda’s seat and opened a hatch above their heads. He grasped onto a ladder on the side of the wall, climbed up, and put his head through the ceiling to sniff the open air. He stayed there awhile, drawing deep breath after breath, then came down and sat next to Esmeralda, his face a knot of unhappiness.
“Why is your father sending horses after us?”
“What?” she said.
“Their stink runs across the open plain. The Alavarisians don’t have horses. They don’t understand anything animal. Why has your father sent horses so far in front of the army?”
“You can smell all of that?” Esmeralda said.
“We are not so stunted as you in our perception of the world. Tell me. Why?”
“I don’t know,” Esmeralda said truthfully.
Acheron screamed into the driver’s compartment, “increase speed! We need to reach Narlith before they close upon us.”
The great metal legs churned on. Esmeralda, of course, couldn’t explain why the Emperor would send people riding horses after the Phoon. It was no shock that the monarch at Alavariss couldn’t keep or understand horses. But, a smile creeping into her heart, she remembered someone who could.