Lucia novel · Chapter 8 of 24

Chapter 8: The Boots

The gully lay below us.

I lay on my stomach beside Tobin on the rim, with ten of his men flat in the rocks behind us.

Smoke rose from a dozen small fires.

Below them stood rows of wooden crates, and a few raiders sat on them, eating.

Every man down there wore good black boots.

"New leather," Tobin whispered. "Government issue."

"The ones that never arrived."

"Nine months of boots," he said. "We've been wearing rope."

His jaw was so tight I could hear his teeth.

"I need to see a crate."

"Tobin."

"I need to see the stamp."

"Without proof, Montalban will say I'm lying to cover for my men."

"Then I'll go," I said.

"Like hell you will."

"I'm the lightest and the quietest. And you can't take the ridge with that shoulder."

"My shoulder is fine."

"You hit it on the stair last night," I said. "You've been favoring it since breakfast."

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

"Five minutes," he said. "If you're not back, I'm coming down the hill with a very loud sword."

"I'll be back in four."

I went down the rocks on my belly, in my dark coat, with my braid tucked under it.

The wind was in my favor.

I crept along the back of the camp until the nearest crate was an arm's length away.

It was stacked against a rock, half in shadow, with a lid nailed down and a seal burned into the wood.

I leaned in.

It was an owl, with a ring of tiny letters around it.

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