The Post Road ran ahead in the night its boundaries blurred in
the snow. Mainly, the riders stayed between the ranks of trees
on both sides. They left deep, dark tracks behind them, each hoof
print filling fast with cold wet snow. The clouds were low to the
earth, and as the land fluctuated in elevation, the riders were
thrust at times up into the clouds themselves. Those times were
maddening, as visibility dropped to almost nil. White grey wind-wraiths
plucked at cloaks and stung face. Any moustache or short-beard
was encrusted with painful balls of clinging ice. Dirak lay at
least an hour ahead still. The companions prayed for the daylight
and the little warmth it might bring - plus the fact that the night
was their enemy’s time of power. The horses were holding
up well, but it was clear that they would not make the whole journey
at this speed.
Over his shoulder, Himmel could see the band starting to straggle
out into a ragged line behind him. He held up an arm and signaled
the walk. The mounts huffed in agreement and seemed to slow almost
at once. Himmel patted his mount’s sopping wet neck. “I
assure you horse, I would rather be any where but here at the moment.” He
got another chuffing toss of the head; whether a response or no
he couldn’t tell. Bull came to walk beside him. Ahren lay
sleeping against his bulk. His cloak wrapped them both. “How
is she?” asked the new leader.
“Fitful, but warm. We cannot keep going like this. My mount
is stumbling over its hooves. Much more and they’ll burst
a heart or come up lame. If we stop, they’ll freeze...” The
frustration in his voice was manifest. He tried to peer through
the night, but they were cresting a rise, and foggy snow-dumping
clouds obscured everything beyond ten yards.
“I think it near dawn. We will rest for a short time in
Dirak. Three hours or so. That will give us time to sleep, and
the horses time to recoup some of their energy. Maybe we can get
fresh mounts.” He looked back at the group. Most had caught
up. All were exhausted and freezing.
“Dirak is a farming village, Himmel,” said an enshrouded
figure with Finger’s voice. They’ll have draft horses
sure, but not the kind of mounts we need. I was through here a
couple of years ago-when the Fifth came through on that reconnoiter.
These folks make a scant profit after tithes. Your best bet is
the Coachhouse, an inn on the far side of town. They service the
Prince’s messengers and his emissaries - and any other traveler
who can afford it.”
“I do doubt the good proprietor will allow us entry to
his fine rooms,” protested Toady. “We being as far
from the Prince as the ‘States are from Torvan.” That
actually got a few chuckles. Torvan was the land far, far to the
north and east. A perilous journey mostly ending in death or slavery
for those who perpetrated it. Good, at least they had their humor,
thought Himmel.
“Not if the good proprietor runs a gambling house - one
which somehow escapes the notice of the Prince’s tax assayers.” No
one asked Fingers how he would know this. “I think we could
get some nice warm space in the storage rooms above the stables.
Might cost us a silver or two and a hint of threat...” He
seemed to be considering it. Bull immediately offered up the threat,
even as Toady offered the coin.
“We’ll plan on that then,” Himmel was tired
and it showed.
* * *
Indeed, the room above the stables was dry and warm - if a bit
aromatic. There was a cupboard and a small fireplace with a low
hearth; apparently the room was supposed to be for a groom or three.
A layer of dust covered both cupboard and the hearth, but after
a bit of work a small fire crackled in the belly of the open stove.
The squad decamped onto hay bales and on the floorboards themselves.
Fingers and Jask came up moments later, having secured the animals,
they brought the last of the saddlebags and the expensive tack.
Lorry took first watch with Toady, and the rest of them fell asleep
immediately.
The innkeeper had been perturbed to no end at having been roused
at a half-glass past midnight, but had acquiesced under Finger’s
implied threats. Food had been among them.
At the sounds of footsteps, Lorry drew his longknife and crouched
at the head of the stairs. The door, which did have a bolt, had
been left open for the nonce. As a diminutive but steady light
made its way up the stairwell, Toady whicked a knife from his boot.
He held it by its slender blade in his throwing hand.
“Who goes?” whispered Lorry, his eyes glowing greenish
in the semi-darkness. The glow came to an immediate stop.
“I be Elise; I do be one o' Ewain's serving girls, good
my Lord.” Ewain was the tavern keeper and the Coachman's
owner. Boldness in the voice made the honorific seem an epithet.
It was obvious she held no one here in awe, nor did she wish anything
more than to do her business and get back to her bed-or whomever’s
she'd left. “Might I come ahead, Lord?” She didn't
bother to wait, but achieved the landing and the threshold of the
door. Toady’s eyes narrowed and a smile crept across his
face. The girl had dark hair, dark chocolate brown. Her green eyes
fired a bit at his inspection of her, probably due to the fact
that he spent so much time staring at her straining bodice. She
carried a tray with a couple of loaves of day old bread and a block
of yellow-veined white cheese; a corked bottle of wine and a stack
of smoked fish steaks filled the tray to its capacity. A cloth
bag held what smelled to Toady like slightly old apples.
Lorry remained hidden behind the jamb, and when she stepped gracefully
into the room, she did not see him. Elise smiled as she took in
Toady’s garb.
“Aye, it do look as though ye haff had a rough road, Lord.” Her
accent made Toady smile broadly. Her tone suggested she thought
Toady might actually be someone of rank… Her eyes suggested
she had the knowledge to soothe his aching bones...
“You come from Modarra, dost thou not milady?” Toady
kept his voice down. At her surprised look, he nodded. “I
did think it so,” he said taking the tray she held.
“Pray let me unburden you,” The girl's mouth tugged
up in a brief smile. Her posture took on a more aggressive air,
eyes sliding to the sleeping figures spread out in the room. The
cataloguing gaze fell longest on Ahren and the still form of Teneil.
Behind her, Lorry stood up and leaned against the doorjamb. He
began to thumb his knife’s edge. His slight movement caught
her attention. She turned, jumping in surprise at having missed
the second man. The serving wench did not seem particularly afraid,
merely taken aback.
“I would apologize for startling you, but it was my goal.” Lorry
presented a leering, evil mouthful of teeth. “You are not
the usual type of serving girl one usually sees. I think you have
broader purpose than sating men’s appetites.” His eyes
narrowed, waiting.
First, she shuffled her feet, then she laughed. “I do be
no normal whore, if that do be ye'r point. Aye, an it please you,
I do sate the Prince when 'tis his wont.” The woman shuffled
again, not sure how to place Lorry. Her eyes flicked to Toady once
more. “'Tis strange folk ye haff taken up wit', Master.” Toady's
brows rose a fraction - his title dipping from Lord to Master.
Lorry interrupted his retort.
“Oh, he's higher and truer born than your prince, girl.
We are his followers - we have specialized talents do we each of
us. You do more than service his Highness, now don’t you.
You are one of his eyes and ears - aren’t you girl?” His
smile broadened as her eyes rounded out momentarily in alarm. “Ah,
yes, what better way to elicit information than with white, silky
thighs and firm, heaving breasts.” Lorry laughed. “I
would suggest you give no account of our passing , girl. Not to
prince, nor to your other master, the innkeeper. Or perhaps they’ll
hear of your other duties.” Lorry inspected the tray closer. “In
fact, I would be harder pressed to supply ripe apples, and finer
wine than that gone to vinegar, lass.”
“You do see much of what is hidden, yadith,” she
spat, “as one who do see his like in others. Wha' would you
do to me, now that you do know me for wha' I do be?” Her
chin kicked up a notch, and her eyes lit again. Lorry silently
took up the distance between them and leaned to whisper in her
ear. His tone precluded Toady’s hearing his words.
The serving girl began to tremble, going so far as to put hands
on Lorry to push him away - but she remained rooted to the spot.
Her voice squeaked and whimpered as Lorry described something hideous
and frightening about her fate should she betray them.
She finally wailed quietly and fled, sobbing all the way into
the main building. Lorry, spent, sighed and seemed to deflate.
There were times, he thought, when this life seemed inherently
evil. Toady, beside him, regarded him with fascination.
“How? Some spell of dubious origin?”
“No, Toady, I did but describe what the Circle does to
women like her when they find them - especially to their children.” He
shuddered. “Aye, and that one has a babe not even a year
old yet. She will not give information up on us, for fear that
if we are caught, I will tell them about our accomplices...”
“That’s evil!” Both Toady and Lorry glanced
to Fingers, who lay wrapped up, staring at them. “What’s
a ‘yahdeet’?”
“It is yadith. It means one who kills for money,” murmured
Lorry.
“But you are a person who kills for money-” “It
means assassin, fool.” Toady regarded Lorry soberly.
“It was necessary. Should I be back this way, I may rectify
it, but that might cause more harm than good.” He shook his
head sadly. “For the moment her silence saves her life and
ours.”
“Huh,” mumbled Fingers, already falling asleep, “guess
we won’t get the good wine, now.”
“I must see to horses,” said Toady as he stepped
to go downstairs. He paused momentarily to look at Lorry. “You
really didn’t like doing that, did you?” When he saw
Lorry’s eyes he nodded and walked down to tend the animals.
The night faded slowly to light as the group slept and ate on
watches. Himmel had rescinded the order to leave, as the horses
needed more time to rest after the harrowing flight of the previous
night. Ahren stirred under Lorry’s ministering. He had rebound
her wounds after carefully cleaning each. Toady had disappeared
after he’d tended the animals. Teneil, having spent a night
in warmth and comfort had more color than before. Lorry moved to
her after tending and waking Ahren.
“You go over and eat your fill off that tray, soldier,” he
ordered Ahren. She stumbled groggily over to the fireplace and
the food. Lorry turned back to Teneil. Her pulse was strong, and
her wounds had been dressed and cleaned again. She needed food
to help her system start recouping lost blood. Lorry laid a hand
on the woman, and evened his breathing out. He hummed slowly to
himself, rhythmically, and then closed his eyes.
