Silver blinked a few times, shocked that he had not seen it before. There were no women manning cookfires nor children giggling and running through the camp.
The boisterous talk that families would normally make was absent, replaced with the deep timber of too many male voices. The Guardian realized that the lack of high pitched laughter was what first alerted him that something was wrong. His mind just hadn't been able to process the source of the problem.
"Bandits?" Silver's words were halfway between a question and a statement.
"That is one of the few possibilities. But that is a very large group of bandits…" Sage bit her lip.
Crouching, Silver tapped his knee impatiently. "That is what I was thinking. Surely a band this numerous would have quite a reputation. Yet, I have heard nothing about anyone new causing havoc."
The group of bandits that Silver had been with in his youth was on the larger side at around thirty people. Even in that number, there were a few women among them just as depraved as the many men.
The size of that group had been teetering on the edge of uncontrollable. If not for the boss's iron first, there would have been mutiny more than once. As it was, sacrifices—like Silver's life—were acceptable losses in order for the tyranny to continue. Although it was dangerous for individual members, the overall dynamic of the group was relatively stable.
This group was many times larger than Silver's old band. That meant many more temperaments and personalities were mixed in. It seemed very unlikely that an unorganized band of criminals would be able to stay cohesive. Granted, it was possible that groups could come together for some larger goal, but they would dissolve just as quickly as they formed once the crime was completed.
They certainly wouldn't set up camp together and wait to get caught.
"We need to take a close look," Silver whispered. His mind was reeling with questions that only further investigation could answer.
"You read my mind." Sage smiled at him. "Do you want to sneak in or try to bluff your way in?"
"As if there is any choice there...If I tried to walk in there like I belonged, I would have to go without you--you would never pass for a male, my love. You are far too beautiful and... shapely." Silver grinned mischievously at his final words.
"Thank you." Sage winked at him, quite pleased with his assessment.
"And I have no idea of the group dynamic. It is better if they don't know we are there. Are you ready?" Silver pressed his hand onto the lady's with a gentle smile.
Sage, who often faked her way in situations rather than sneaking about, was more than ready for the challenge. "Gentleman first," she said with a grin.
Silver slowly rose from his belly, working hard to move with the swaying of the wheat around him. In a low crouch, he breached the edge of the golden wall and stepped into the open. While he did not look back, he could feel the comforting presence of Sage behind him.
No one looked their way or seemed on alert as they covertly closed the distance between the edge of the trodden wheat and the closest wagon. The men were wholly disinterested in anything beyond the camp. They clearly felt safe.
Silver ducked below the wagon and paused behind a group of men leaning against the side of the vehicle. Sage was at his side in a moment and they paused to listen.
"You think that farmer will come around today?" One of them asked. Based on where the sound came from, it was a barefoot man that was leaning against a different wagon.
"What farmer?" a second one piped in as he lifted his left foot to scratch his right. The gravelly voice rang a bell in Silver's mind, but he was not sure exactly why. All he knew is that he had heard it before.
"That was before you arrived. The man who owns this land was coming around every day telling us to move on. He didn't like how we were treating his fields." A third man said. He was the one closest to Silver, his black boots close enough for the silver-eyed man to touch.
Sage looked at her companion with a tense expression, but Silver could not discern which piece of information had made her concerned.
"He hasn't been here in a few days now," the third man continued. "I guess my gentle message must have finally made it into his thick skull."
"You mean your fist made it into his gut. I have never seen a more beautiful left hook, sir. He probably still cannot stand straight." The first man's simpering was overly flattering. Obviously the black-booted man was in charge.
"I don't think he will be back," the boss said smugly. "If he tries to harass us again, then his widow will have no one to bury."
"Sounds like he was a right trouble-maker," the gravelly voice said. "You are nicer than I would have been."
The pressure in Silver's brain was so intense that it throbbed. Where was that voice from? There was only one thing to do. The Guardian needed to see the speaker. Inching forward, Silver only made it one scoot before Sage grabbed his cloak.
"What are you doing?" she mouthed, scowling.
"I need to look," Silver's silent words were accompanied by appropriate hand motions.
Sage shook her head vehemently. "No!" She motioned for him to go back to the field. Something was clearly on her mind.
But Silver could not let the matter pass when he felt he was so close to unraveling a mystery. It was on the edge of his consciousness. He just had to grasp it.
The murmurs continued among the band of men as the conversation shifted. "I didn't see you arrive. When did you get in?" the barefoot man asked with a hint of interest.
"My 'son' and I arrived with the most recent batch. We had no trouble at all getting across the border." The gravelly voice chuckled dryly, clearly amused at the lack of security.
"Why would they stop you? You look half-dead in that get-up. My grandfather looks like he could beat you," the barefoot man taunted.
"Now-now, be nice to my dear old 'dad.' He is becoming decrepit and senile in his old age," a fourth voice chimed in. It was not one Silver had heard speak up in the conversation until now. The others laughed.
"Now-now, sonny. None of that!"
The words pricked a memory in Silver's mind. There was something familiar about the way it was said. 'The border!'
With one more gentle scoot, the Guardian was able at last to get a view of the voice which haunted him. The man had lost his unnatural stoop and grey hair, but he was still in the rags and standing next to his supposed son--who now looked almost the exact same age. He could hide most of the things about his appearance, but he could not hide the clouding he had across one eye.
Silver knew the man.
It was one of the merchants!