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Sugar had said the horse breeder kept his best mounts in the stalls.
    The group rushed to the barn’s double doors. River and Oaks pulled them wide and went in. Talen followed them. Felts stood guard, fearing those in the house across from the barn had heard them. The strong smell of horses and hay filled Talen’s nostrils. There were eight stalls. Five with horses. A post ran along the right side of the barn. A number of saddles and blankets sat on it. Hanging on pegs above the saddles were accompanying bridles.
    Talen grabbed a saddle, bridle, and blanket that looked to be the right size for him and rushed to a stall.The chestnut gelding there jerked its head back when it saw Talen, an obvious stranger.“Are you ready for a little ride?” Talen asked the horse calmly, trying to sooth it. “Just a little moonlight.” He opened the stall door. The horse snorted a warning. “Apples and oats, I promise,” Talen said and took the horse around the neck.
    Immediately, he felt the animal’s soul and Fire, and his desires flared.
    By Regret’s eyes, they flared!
    He cursed. He couldn’t stick to Sugar. No, now it had to be stinking men and sleth-rotted horses!
    He grunted in anger and frustration, and pushed forward, trying to ignore the ridiculous feelings, and began to fit the bridle over the gelding’s head, vowing to give the Creek Widow a piece of his mind.
    In the woods at the far end of the field the dogs with Tenter bayed. Surely that would wake the horse breeder in his house.
    This was going to be close.
    Then Felts turned at the entrance to the barn. He grabbed one of the two doors and closed it.
    Oaks was already leading his horse out. He looked up.
    “Sorry,” Felts said, then ran over to the other door and began to shut it.
    The plan wasn’t to hide here. What was he doing?
    “No!” Oaks shouted. He dropped the reins to his horse and rushed the closing door. “You filth!”
    Talen was confused, then realized what Felts was doing. There were only a handful of people who had known about this mission. Talen had assumed the person who had betrayed them was back at the fortress, someone who had been spying and overheard. But who said the traitor had to stay behind? Rooster, Shroud, and Black Knee were dead. That left Oaks and Felts. And Felts had, curiously enough, missed all the excitement.
    It was impossible, but there was no other conclusion—Felts was the one that had betrayed them.
    Oaks crashed into the door just before Felts slammed it home and dropped the locking bar. But even though Felts was older, he was anything but weak. And he probably had the door braced with his foot, for the door didn’t budge.
    Oaks must have realized this, for he suddenly rolled to the other door and shoved, throwing that door open. Oaks drew his knife, but Felts knocked his blow aside and struck Oaks in the face, an open-handed, multiplied blow with clawed fingers to his eyes. Oaks stumbled back.
    Felts struck again, knocking Oaks to the ground. He turned and rushed back to shut River and Talen in. But River left her horse and raced forward. She had been using the lore for many years and had the power of a mature dreadman.
    Felts saw her, drew his own knife, and slashed at her face, but she snatched his knife hand and with her other hand struck his windpipe.
    Felts reeled back, dropped to a knee, and clutched at his throat. He wheezed terribly, trying to get breath.
    River looked down upon him and cursed in frustration and dismay. “Why?” she demanded. “Why? What could they promise you!”
    But Felts only fell to his side writhing, struggling for breath, his face full of fear and pain.
    Talen was sick. Felts had been joking with him over a mug of watered ale not two days ago. How was this possible?
    Oaks’s horse side-stepped away from its stall. Its eyes were wide with fear at the strangers and commotion. It made a dash for the door. Talen yelled a warning and grabbed for bridle, but it was too late, and the