Fortress Draconis (50 page)

Late on the second day the column approached the town of Stellin. Arrangements had been made to camp north of the town in a farmer’s vacant field. Will found Crow and was preparing to take care of his mount when one of the Jeranese troopers rode up to him. The man dismounted and handed Will the reins to his horse.

“General Adrogans will be riding into the town. He wishes you to accompany him, Will Norrington.”

Will glanced at Crow and Crow nodded, then began to rise.

The trooper waved Crow back down. “The general wishes the Norrington to accompany him alone. He will be well warded.”

Crow’s eyes narrowed. “Very well.”

The trooper helped Will into the saddle, then pointed out where the general and a squad of lancers were waiting. Will gave the horse, a big bay gelding, a touch of his heels and the beast responded quickly enough that it almost bounced Will out of the saddle. The lancers parted as Will rode up, and spread out so any conversation Adrogans and Will might have would go unheard.

The expedition leader nodded a greeting to him. “You are tolerating the trip well.”

Will shrugged. “Horses are doing the work.”

“True enough.” The general kept a smile on his face, but Will knew it for nothing more than a polite mask. “You have been to this town before?”

“Yes, a month ago. Crow, Resolute, and the princess were there. Not much to see.”

“But it must be seen.” The man’s grey eyes became slits. “Tell me, Will, what do they say about me?”

The question, delivered quietly, sent a jolt through Will. “No, sir.”

Adrogans’ eyes widened and his nostrils flared. “What?”

Will raised his chin. “You want to know what they say, ask them. I’m no wagtongue who betrays friends.”

They rode on in silence for a moment, then the trace of a smile tugged at Adrogans’ mouth. “Then I have no fear of you betraying my words to them?”

“You’re not a friend.”

Adrogans’ smile broadened. He turned and regarded Will more closely. “You’re right in that, of course, but Iam an ally. We share a common enemy and, together, we will cause Chytrine much discomfort.”

Will nodded. “I want to kill her.”

“An admirable goal, yes. Doing that will require us to work together. A working alliance such as we need can only be formed on the basis of mutual trust.” His eyes narrowed again. “So, tell me, why should an accident of birth make me trust a feral little thief?”

“Why should the fact that you’re luckier than you are arrogant or egotistical make me trust a general?”

Adrogans chuckled. “So, that’s what they think about me?”

Will’s cheeks immediately burned. “You tricked me. That doesn’t build trust.”

“No. You’re right. It doesn’t.” The general’s face settled back into impassiveness, though passion threaded through his words. “It does give me your measure, however. You are loyal, but a bit immature, and possibly impetuous. You do have spirit, however, and the instinct to strike. Properly trained and employed, these are invaluable skills.

“The simple fact is, Will, that success requires that I trust you. I do believe Ican trust you, but I needed to discover how far.”

The thief growled. “How far is that?”

“Far enough to know that you can serve in a role that is more valuable than bait. You’re sharp enough to see that this is the role in which you have been cast. We’re on a campaign. There is nothing to steal. You are a rallying point for those who need to believe Chytrine can be defeated, and you are a target to distract her.”

Will nodded. “You don’t have to be the Grand Magister of Vilwan to figure that much out.”

“Another good point.” Adrogans ran a hand over his jaw. “You will have to understand, Will, that I approach this campaign as being very important. I know how much it means to everyone involved. I will conduct it in the manner I best see fit and I am fairly certain that you and your acquaintances will come to feel that I am ignoring you or your advice. If I see a role for you or them, I will use you. If not, you will remain in reserve—and no amount of mumbling or cajoling will change that.”

“So our job is to do nothing unless you have something for us to do?”

“Yes.”

“What if we don’t agree with what you are doing?”

Adrogans raised his chin and stroked his throat with a gloved hand. “I was given command of this expedition for a reason. I know I have detractors, and am roundly criticized for a variety of reasons. Curiously enough, despite all the criticism, I do win my battles. This fact is always underplayed.”

Will frowned as they topped a rise and looked down on the village of Stellin. “What if what they say about you is true, though? What if they’re pointing out things that will mean you lose? The next battle could be that, you know.”

“I know that far better than you, Will, and take countless precautions against it.” The man watched him for a moment, then nodded toward the town. “Come on, it’s time the people of Stellin see the salvation of the world.”

Adrogans applied spurs to his horse, and Will’s mount followed eagerly. A small crowd of people began to spill out of the Hare and Hutch. As they reined up, Will recognized Quintus moving to the fore.

The general brought his horse right up to Quintus, forcing the man back a step. “I am General Markus Adrogans of Jerana. You have, of course, heard of me and are in awe. Scant little time for that now. Bow, mouth your obeisances, and we can dispense with further ceremony.”

Quintus staggered back, then dropped his eyes and lowered his head. “We are honored, my lord.”

“Yes, yes, of course you are.” Adrogans sniffed, then wrinkled his nose. “You are further honored that I have brought with me the Norrington, your countryman and the salvation of the world.”

The people gasped and bowed in Will’s direction. He was surprised that none of them recognized him, but with his mask on, and further masked by the introduction, the chances they would connect him with his past visits were nil.Unless…

He glanced about for Sephi, but didn’t see her. He wanted to ask, but that would definitely make them recognize him, and he didn’t want that. He wasn’t sure why, but part of it came from the hope sparking in the townsfolk’s eyes.If they knew who I really was, it would die.

Adrogans clapped his hands, once, loudly. “Yes, well, you are thrilled, without a doubt. Easy to see, which makes this easier on all of us. Some things you must do. First, everyone is to stay away from Northmont. As arranged, my army has taken it over. The provisions are adequate though uninspiring. Have you, in this fine establishment, a cask or three of brandy that I can requisition? Two thousand men do develop a thirst.”

The tavern’s owner wiped his hands on a stained apron. “Not that much, my lord. I could fit a wagon with ale casks, and brandy for you, if you want.”

“Splendid.” Adrogans nodded at one of his soldiers. The man tossed the innkeeper a fat leather sack that rang of gold coins when the man caught it. “Now, I do require fifty head of cattle to be driven to Northmont by morning. We will pay in good gold, of course. Headman, divide this herd among your people, so no one will be unduly enriched nor impoverished by my request. Make the choices by lot, if you must. Any provisions we leave behind at Northmont should be taken into the town stores, to be held against our return, or for the depths of your winter need.”

Will caught sight of a half-dozen young men with satchels. Each carried a bow and a quiver full of arrows. Slightly older than he was, each one had a sloppy, eager grin on his face. Their intention to join the army was quite evident in their expressions.

Adrogans clearly saw them as well. “Good, I see Stellin has a militia. You’ll need it. Guard your town well, men.

Your presence means I don’t have to detach a squad of my finest. One less worry for me, one more worry for Chytrine.“

A shiver ran through Will as he listened to Adrogans. While some of the arrogance and pomposity he’d seen in the man in Yslin remained, another aspect blossomed beside it. In those few words he went from dashing the hopes of farmers’ sons to incorporating them in his force and leaving them with the clear impression that their presence in Stellin left him indebted to them. Not only did that forestall a ragtag horde of untrained, unequipped, and inexperienced youths following in his force’s wake, but it guaranteed they’d fight even harder to defend their village if the time came to do so.

While that new side certainly was born of the shrewd and analytical person he’d talked to on the ride into the town, the two Adrogans seemed as different as air and earth. Adrogans was manipulating the townsfolk of Stellin with the skill of a swindler bilking a victim. When Adrogans rode away, the folks in Stellin would be left thinking of a distant and arrogant man, dedicated to leading a force to kill Chytrine.And they would think that force was twice the size it really is.

Adrogans glanced at him. “Come, Lord Norrington, our work here is done. I bid you, fine people of Stellin, my hearty thanks and wishes for a safe future.”

With that, Adrogans reined his horse about and the whole of his party began riding back to Northmont. Will held his horse back a little, not wanting to pull up next to Adrogans or continue their conversation.If he wants to speak to me, he can slow down.

Will shivered again. He admired Adrogans’ skill at manipulating the people, but this opened up a bigger question for him. 7she manipulating the rest of us? The thief took a quick census and could name four different versions of Adrogans: manipulator, arrogant-socializer, incompetent-warrior, and shrewd. He wasn’t sure which one he believed in, then shook his head, since they all inhabited the same body.

Perhaps it’s just like me. No one could see the Norrington in me until the time came.He glanced at Adrogans’ broad back as the man rode on.Let’s hope the true Adrogans will make himself apparent when his time comes, too.

While intellectually Kerrigan knew there would be some point in his life when he would again be dry and warm and his stomach would be full, emotionally the day seemed as far away as Vilwan and his tower chamber. Though not even a half week into the trek, he felt as if he’d already reached Aurolan. Working their way up through the mountains of Gyrvirgul, the riders got drenched by rain and, worse, some freezing rain. Everyone said it was unseasonable, which most of the troopers translated into meaningmagick and clearly wondered why none of the Vilwanese legion could do anything about it.

The warmages ignored the glances and whispers from the troopers. Kerrigan had done his best to explain that the warmages were no more suited to controlling the weather than soldiers were to brewing beer or sailing a ship. Whenever he offered that analogy, at least one of the soldiers would comment that he knew all there was to know about brewing or sailing, and that specific example tore down his generalization.

Kerrigan did acknowledge that he was managing to annoy the soldiers, but they didn’t help at all. His snoring, he came to understand, was not appreciated, as it might alert the enemy to their presence. The sheer absurdity of that proposition—given the excessive smoke from their fires, for example—led him to be disappointed in the soldiers. Their little prejudice against snoring would make sense in another setting, but the column was so obvious that snoring would make no difference. His logic won him no friends, however, as the small-minded soldiers found it easier to cling to their notions instead of actually thinking.

In some ways he envied them their dullness, since it allowed them to rejoice in the simple and banal. They were overjoyed, for example, in the fact that they could eat pretty much as they pleased, since the rations they were issued were generous. Kerrigan hated it, since salty, dried beef and biscuits hard enough to crack rocks were hardly the sort of fare he liked. More appealing fare, like local fruits and vegetables, had to be shared out on an equal basis, and nothing he offered the Spritha to fetch him things brought a positive response from the creature.

Qwc’s rejection of his offers underscored the isolation he felt. The warmages accepted Orla. All of them were younger than she was, and her attempts to keep up with them tired her out. This meant she had little patience for dealing with him. When they did speak, she demanded he take care of little camp jobs that Lombo was happy to perform. It made no sense to Kerrigan to be given those jobs, so he did them slowly and sullenly.

Orla did order him to drill with the warmages, but those efforts quickly ended in frustration for everyone involved. With proper preparation, he was able to counter any spells they cast in his direction. He carefully chose the spells he would use to attack them, and diligently worked them. The warmages would anticipate him and raise defenses, but his attacks came with such strength that they blew through the defenses. They learned nothing from him, nor did he learn from them, so he withdrew from their company.

Lombo provided him with some companionship, but the Panqui was as much out of place with the expedition as Kerrigan was. The beast would range far and wide, disappearing for hours at a time, then return bearing some flower or knot of wood or another oddity that provided Kerrigan a moment’s diversion. Far too infrequently did Lombo bring Kerrigan something he could eat.

Most frustrating of all was Orla’s order that he should not use magick to make things better for himself. It would have been child’s play for him to enchant a leather bucket so he could fill it from a stream a quarter mile downhill, but Orla would not hear of it. Kerrigan countered by offering to work the spell such that he would provide water for more people—even the entire expedition. She refused, forcing him to walk to the stream and fill his bucket. It made no sense to him for him to have to do that, though he did notice comradely nods from the soldiers traveling likewise to the stream and back.

As his horse plodded along the narrow mountain track, the young mage just closed his eyes. Grey sky, mists, rain, wet rock, and wetter soldiers were all there was to see. The walls of the canyon through which they rode rose to the clouds and even the twisting tendrils of mist that descended to tease pennants bored him. Worse yet, they frustrated him because he would have loved to put together a spell to duplicate the effect, but Orla would never let him test it.