Exile's Return (8 page)

“What’s serious?” asked Kaspar as the others settled back under the wagon.

Kenner said, “I wish I knew what it is.”

Kaspar said, “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“No, it doesn’t,” agreed Flynn. “Keep an eye out and wake me in an hour.”

The rest of the night passed uneventfully.

As they reached the village of Nabunda, the patrol escorting the caravan peeled off to report to the local commander. The jemedar waved a good-natured goodbye to Kaspar and his companions as they rode into town.

“We need to find storage for the wagon,” said Flynn, “then get some information on conditions to the south of here.”

It took the better part of the day to find a suitable place for the wagon, as every warehouse was full. Eventually, they settled in a corner of a public stable, and paid three times the normal price.

Nabunda was thronged with people drawn to the conflict. There were soldiers’ wives and camp followers, as well as those who found soldiers eager customers or easy marks—thieves and mountebanks, pickpockets and tailors—all vying for whatever trade came within their reach.

As they gathered at a crowded inn, Kaspar observed, “This border skirmish has all the signs of becoming a full-blown war.”

“How can you tell?” asked Flynn as they pulled out their chairs.

An older but still attractive barmaid approached and took their order for supper. After she had left, McGoin said, “I thought you said you weren’t a mercenary.”

“I wasn’t, but I was a soldier,” said Kaspar. “I spent most of my life in the Olaskon army, if truth be told.”

“Why’d you leave?” asked Kenner.

Without wishing to provide too many details, Kaspar explained, “I was on the losing side of the last war.” Looking around, he said, “But I’ve seen enough stand-up fights to recognize groundwork when I see it; and all of those who customarily use wars to feather their own nests.” He pointed to a corner table where a card game was well underway. “I don’t know the game, but I’ll wager that fellow with his back to the corner is the one who initiated it, and I’ll also wager that he’s using his own deck.”

Kaspar then pointed to another small group of men in common garb who gathered in the opposite corner. “Just as I’ll wager those gentlemen are merchants, not unlike yourselves. A tailor whose clientele—like our young Jemedar Rika—wish their uniforms to fit just so, or a boot-maker whose specialty is riding boots, fine enough to catch a general’s eye. Perhaps there’s a tinker in their midst, for many wives will be cooking for their man on the eve of battle, and their pots will need mending.” He looked back at his friends. “Yes, this has all the makings of a full-scale war, my friends.”

Flynn looked troubled. “Getting south may prove difficult.”

“You’d be surprised,” said Kaspar. “War is chaos, and from chaos springs opportunity.”

The food arrived and conversation fell to a minimum.

There were no rooms to be had in the town, so the four companions returned to the stable. The stable lad was fast asleep in the loft, and their arrival didn’t wake him.

“Some watchman,” observed Kenner as the first three to sleep got under the wagon.

Kaspar fell asleep swiftly, but was troubled by a restless sense of danger even though no images came to him. Then he felt a presence close to him and opened his eyes.

The armor was standing over him. Through the dark helm two evil, red eyes glared balefully down. Kaspar lay motionless for an instant, and then with a sudden, catlike quickness, the armored figure drew his black sword and raised it to strike at Kaspar.

Kaspar sat up, striking his head on the wagon with almost enough force to knock himself unconscious. His vision swam and darkened for a moment as he shouted and fumbled for his sword.

Hands grabbed him and Flynn cried, “What is it?”

Kenner said, “It’s only a dream, man.”

Kaspar blinked the tears out of his eyes and saw Flynn, who had taken the first watch, kneeling above him. Kenner was still lying by his side.

Kaspar crawled out from underneath the wagon and looked around. Then he looked at the tarpaulin and pulled it back. “I could have sworn—” he muttered, putting his hand on the coffin.

Flynn said, “We know.”

McGoin said, “We’ve all had that dream; it’s as if that thing comes to life.”

“All of you?”

“At one time or another,” said Kenner. “You just can’t be around it long before it starts to haunt you.”

“Get back to sleep if you can,” said Flynn.

“No,” said Kaspar, rubbing his sore head. “I’ll take the rest of your watch and my own. I’ll wake McGoin at two hours past midnight.”

Flynn didn’t argue and left Kaspar to stand a long watch. Kaspar wrestled with the dream, for it had been vivid and intense. He was troubled by the sensation he’d received when he touched the box. For the briefest instant it had vibrated under his fingers, just like the black sword.

Even after he awoke McGoin, Kaspar couldn’t sleep.

The guard signaled them to stop.

Flynn urged the horses to the side of the road while the rider approached. He was a subedar, which would roughly have made him a senior corporal or very junior sergeant in the Olaskon army. His patrol had dismounted and was dug in around a narrow cut through a low hillock, taking cover behind rocks, brush, and a few felled trees.

He rode up to them and said, “The road ahead is closed. We’ve come up against a squad of Sasbataba regulars who’ve occupied a village.”

“You going to take them out?” asked Kaspar.

“My orders are to make contact, pull back, send word, and wait for reinforcements.”

“A cautious approach,” said Kaspar, looking over the ragged patrol under the subedar’s command. “Given how tired your men look, probably a good one.”

“We’ve been on the line for a month,” said the subedar, obviously not in the mood for further conversation. “If you want to head south, you’ll have to find another way around.”

Kaspar rode over to Flynn and relayed this to him, adding, “There was a road leading to the southeast out of that last village we went through.”

“I can’t think of a better alternative,” said Flynn, and he started to head the wagon around.

They had only been on the road north for a few minutes when a large contingent of cavalry came past at a steady walk. Flynn pulled the wagon off to the verge of the road and waited until they had passed before continuing their journey.

The village—Higara—they had driven through only two hours earlier now looked like a military camp. Guards ran to take their positions along the road, ignoring the wagon as it rolled into the little village, but Kaspar knew that wouldn’t continue very long. A commissary wagon was being unloaded and it was clear that the village inn was being converted into an operational headquarters.

“Looks like the Raj is getting serious about whatever that subedar and his patrol has found back there,” Kaspar observed.

Flynn and the others nodded agreement. Kenner said, “I don’t know much about armies, but this one looks big.”

Kaspar pointed north. “From the size of that dust cloud I’d say it is very big. I’m guessing there’s at least a full regiment heading this way.”

They tried to hurry along invisibly, but as they turned down the southeast road, a squad of soldiers barred their way. “Where do you think you’re going?” asked a tough-looking subedar.

Kaspar rode over to where the man stood, dismounted and said, “We’re just trying to find our way to the City of the Serpent River, and avoid that offensive you’re staging.”

“Staging an offensive, are we?” asked the soldier. “And what makes you say that?”

Kaspar looked around and laughed. “I think the large regiment of infantry coming down the road, following the three cavalry companies I saw ride through here earlier offered a pretty convincing clue.”

“What’s in the wagon?”

“A coffin,” Kaspar replied. “We’re outlanders, from across the Green Sea, and we’re trying to get to a ship so we can bury our comrade at home.”

The sergeant, as Kaspar thought of him, walked to the back of the wagon and pulled off the box’s cover. “You must have been very fond of the fellow to haul him halfway around the world to plant him. Plenty of fine soil around here.” Inspecting the coffin, he said, “There will be plenty of bodies in a day or so.” He climbed up on the wagon and saw the chest, snug against the seat where Kenner and Flynn sat. “What’s that?”

Kaspar said, “We’re merchants, and that’s our profit for this journey.”

The subedar said, “Unlock it.”

Flynn threw Kaspar a desperate look, but Kaspar said, “We have nothing to hide.”

Flynn gave Kaspar the key and he opened the chest. The subedar said, “This is a fortune. How do I know you came by it through honest means?”

“You have no reason to think otherwise,” Kaspar countered. “If we were brigands we would hardly try to transport this through a battle zone. We’d more likely be traveling north, drinking and whoring!’”

“There may be something in your story, but it’s no longer my problem. This is a matter for my commander to look into.”

He ordered everyone to dismount and motioned for two of the guards to take the wagon to a stable. When all four men were on foot, he said, “Follow me.”

He led them to an inn where a command center was being set up, and told the four men to stand in the corner, quietly. They did as he requested. Kaspar observed the subedar as he spoke to a junior officer and then to a senior official.

The higher-ranking soldier stood in a dusty but finely-cut tunic which was decorated with gold piping around the collar and cuffs. On his head he wore a white turban; a flourish of horse hair, dyed a bright crimson, protruded grandly from a silver pin in its center. He had a neatly-trimmed beard, not unlike the style that Kaspar had favored for many years. He waved for the four men to approach him.

The commander said, “My subedar has reported that you claim to be merchants.”

“We are, my lord,” said Kaspar with just enough deference to be respectful.

“You are a rough-looking company for reputable traders.”

Kaspar looked him straight in the eye. “We’ve been though a great deal. There were thirty in our company when this enterprise began—” Kaspar neglected to mention his late arrival “—and now we are four.”

“Hmm, and apparently you’ve managed to collect an impressive amount of booty.”

“Not booty, my lord, but honest profits,” said Kaspar remaining calm and persuasive.

The commander looked at him for a long minute, then said, “You’re foreigners, which is in your favor, as I can’t believe even the idiot-king of Sasbataba is muddle-headed enough to try and pass off four foreigners, complete with a wagon, coffin, and a fortune in gold, as spies.

“No, I’ll trust you, simply because I don’t have the time to decide if you’re merchants or criminals. That’s for the local constabulary to worry about. Me, I’ve got to figure out how to thread a rope through the eye of a needle.”

Kaspar glanced over at the table where a map lay stretched out. He had read enough military maps in his day to be able to judge the situation in a glance. “That narrow in the road two miles up is a double-edged sword.”

“You have a good eye for the situation, stranger. Were you a soldier?”

“I was.”

The commander gave Kaspar a long look, then said, “An officer?”

“I commanded,” was all that Kaspar said.

“And you got a look at that pass in the road?”

“I did, and it’s a position I’d want to defend, not attack from.”

“But the bloody problem is that we need to be on the other side of it.”

Kaspar didn’t ask permission but simply turned to the map. He studied it for a moment, then said, “You might as well bring back your cavalry. They’re next to useless employed there, unless you want to see them picked off two at a time as they ride through.”

The commander waved the junior officer over and said, “Send a rider and tell the cavalry to fall back to the village. Leave a messenger squad at the front, too.”

“As long as I’m giving you advice,” said Kaspar, “the men holding the pass look like they haven’t seen a hot meal in a month.”

“I’m aware of the situation.”

Looking at the map, Kaspar said, “And if I may ask you for some advice, will the southeastern road take us around the conflict?”

The commander laughed. “By a wide margin. That road will eventually take you to the Serpent River; from there you could travel by boat, but it’s a dangerous trek these days.” He sighed and said, “In my grandfather’s time, the City of the Serpent River kept things quiet upriver for hundreds of miles. Local rulers also helped to keep the area relatively calm, save for an occasional skirmish or two. Back then, a merchant could travel practically anywhere without an escort, but now, you’d be well advised to postpone your journey, unless you hire a company of mercenaries to go with you, and they are very hard to find in these parts.”

“All wearing your colors?” asked Kaspar with a smile.

“Or Sasbataba’s.” He fixed Kaspar and his companions with a baleful look and said, “If you were a little less gray, I’d press-gang the four of you on the spot.” He held up his hand and said, “But for the time being, I’ll settle for one more piece of advice. I appreciate fresh eyes; look at this map and tell me how you’d deal with that bottleneck.”

“Without knowing the deployment of the defenders and what resources are available, I’d simply be guessing.”

“Then assume that there are sufficient forces in a village about an hour’s ride south of the gap. The enemy probably has several companies of archers situated in the rocks around the gap, and in the woods on the other side.”

Kaspar looked at the map for a long time, then he said, “I’d go around them.”

“And leave them at your back?”

“Why not?” He pointed to a spot on the map. “Here you have a nice wide little valley, but what? Three days west of here?” He moved his finger in a line. “I’d keep enough men here to make noise and confound any scouts or spies they might have nearby, then send a couple of squads of infantry right up to the gap, trumpets blowing, flags flying, and then dig in. Make it look as if you’re going to wait them out for a while.

“Then, while the infantry keeps them busy, I’d send those three companies of cavalry, including any horse archers you can scrape up, and send them west. Leave the mounted infantry behind Sasbataba’s men in the woods and hills, and ride through that village. Instead of having you bottled up, their archers are now trapped and you’ve got the village.”

“Not a bad plan. Not a bad plan at all.” He looked at Kaspar and asked, “What is your name?”

“Kaspar, from Olasko.” He turned, “These are my companions, Flynn, Kenner, and McGoin from the Kingdom of the Isles.”

“And the unfortunate in the wagon?”

“The former leader of our expedition, Milton Prevence.”

“The Kingdom of the Isles? I thought that land a myth,” observed the Commander. “My name is Alenburga, and I’m a General of the Brigade.”

Kaspar bowed slightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, General Alenburga.”

“Of course it is,” said the commander. “Some of my fellow officers would have hung you just to be done with the bother.” He signaled to his subedar. “Take these men to the corner-house and lock them up.”

Flynn started to say something, but Kaspar held his hand up to silence him. “For how long?” he asked the General.

“Until I judge whether this damn-fool plan of yours has merit. I’ll send the scouts out this afternoon and if all goes well, we’ll both be heading south again within the week.”

Kaspar nodded and said, “If it’s not too much bother, we would like to see to our own provisions.”

“It’s no bother, but save yourself the trouble, there’s no spare food in the village. My commissary has commandeered everything we can chuck into a cook pot. But don’t worry. We’ll see you’re fed. Please, join me for supper tonight.”

Kaspar bowed and he and his friends fell in behind the subedar. They were led to a small house just off the town square and shown inside. “Guards will be outside the doors and windows, gentlemen, so I suggest you settle in. We’ll come fetch you at suppertime.”

Kaspar led the others inside and looked around the makeshift jail. It was a small building with two rooms: a kitchen and a bedroom, and outside lay a modest garden and a well. Everything remotely edible had been picked out of the garden, and the cupboard was bare. Seeing only two beds in the other room, Kaspar said, “I’ll take the floor tonight. We’ll alternate.”

Flynn said, “I guess we have no choice.”

Kaspar grinned and said, “No, but we may have some luck out of this.”

“How is this lucky?” asked Kenner.

“If General Alenburga doesn’t hang us, he may well escort us halfway to the City of the Serpent River. An army is better than any band of mercenaries for protection.”

McGoin went to the bed and threw himself down on it. Through the door he said, “If you say so, Kaspar.”

Kenner sat down on a chair between the hearth and table in the main room and asked, “Did anyone remember to bring a deck of cards?”

After three nights, supper with the General and his staff became a standing invitation. Alenburga’s staff consisted of five younger officers and a senior advisor, an over-colonel. The General proved to be a genial host. While the food was hardly banquet-hall fare, it was tastier than the rations Kaspar had been eating on the road, and even though there was no wine, there was ample ale, and the General’s commissary proved able to come up with quite a variety of dishes given the scant ingredients available to him.

After the meal, the General asked Kaspar to linger, while he had Flynn and the others escorted back to their quarters. When they had gone, he sent away his batman and ordered the guards outside. Producing a pair of cups, he fetched a bottle of wine from a bag near his sleeping pallet and said, “I don’t have enough for the officer’s mess, but I have a couple of bottles stashed away for moments like these.”

Kaspar took the proffered cup and said, “What’s the occasion?”

“A tiny celebration, actually,” said the General. “I’m not going to hang you.”

Kaspar raised his cup and said, “I’ll drink to that,” and took a sip. “Very good,” he said afterward. “What’s the grape?”

“We call it sharez.” The General took a drink. “It grows in several regions close by.”

“I shall have to fetch a bottle or two home, so—” he was about to say so that his housecarl could provide samples to wine traders in Opardum, and seek out the same grape in the Kingdom or Kesh, but then the reality of his new life came tumbling over him, “—so I can recall these pleasant evenings once or twice more.”

“Finding a pleasant evening in the midst of war is welcome,” agreed the General. “In any event, my scouts have reported that the situation is much as you anticipated. There are desultory patrols that can easily be neutralized, and a clear line of attack on the western flank. Now I know for certain you’re not spies.”

“I thought you had come to that conclusion some time ago?”