Indomitus Est (The Fovean Chronicles) (41 page)

    
“D’gattis must have warded the tower,” he said.  Nantar nodded.  “Most likely you die or worse if you walk inside there and he hasn’t changed the spell to accept you.”

    
I didn’t know a spell could do that, however this sounded like something that would appeal to D’gattis.  Shela had stunned me with her last announcement, now she dismounted and walked right up to the door.

    
“Ah, yes,” she said, putting a hand on the frame.  The guard went to push her aside but a look from her stopped him.  He shrugged and called for D’gattis.  Shela seemed to be studying the door intently.

    
“Nasty spell,” she said.  She opened the door and stepped through, bringing a shout from the guard, from Thorn and from within.  A purple ripple danced across her skin and simple clothes, to run dripping down her hair like electric rain.  A moment later she flickered back to her old self and walked through the door non-plussed.  I needed no other evidence that I hadn’t dreamed what she had done on what I had mistaken as our wedding night.  I didn’t know what gave her the power to do something like this, and to do it so easily, but I now had a lot of questions for this simple plains girl.

    
D’gattis confronted her right inside the door, Ancenon behind him. Both wore only their leggings, the former placed himself nose-to-nose with Shela as if to pick a fight right there.

    
“Back, plains witch,” he warned her.

    
She pointed at me.  “That is
my
man, and I am with him,” she challenged the Uman-Chi.  “And as for being a plains witch, I think you know better.”

    
D’gattis bristled and Ancenon laid a hand on his shoulder.  “Ware, cousin. You are unready and she just walked right through a Cheyak Ward.”

    
“And,” I added, dismounting behind her, “she is with me.  I, um – traded for her.”

    
“Oh, well, that is just fine, then, isn’t it, Lupus?” D’gattis said, turning on me.  I had never seen him as emotional as now.  “Do let’s just bring a full-blood witch into our abode – “

    
“I think we should be having this conversation inside,” Nantar said.  The rest nodded and we stepped in, the guard calling two more men to take our horses.

    
We entered the one room at the tower’s bottom level. Instead of couches and chairs I saw pillows on a wood floor and a table with a vat on it.  One inside servant ran the place and he helped us off with our armor while Ancenon and D’gattis hurried up the one stair that ran along the curved inner wall to the next level.

    
Opposite the door, Genna lay on a pile of pillows with her back to the wall.  Her hair had been braided and lay down over her shoulder, and she wore only a linen shift, her half-empty bandolier beside her.  Her skin remained pale and I could see circles under her eyes.  She left her mouth open as she regarded first me, then Shela. 

    
Shela helped me off with my armor and cold-shouldered the servant.  I wondered how long
that
would last, but reminded myself that a slave would do it until told to stop.  I had thought slavery illegal here, but she and the rest seemed to take it in stride.  I looked her in the eyes and she leaned forward so that I could whisper in her ear.

    
“How did you do that?” I asked.

    
“You mean, am I a plains witch?” she asked.

    
I nodded; she laughed, unbuckling my breastplate.  “I am the woman who belongs to you, and a daughter of Power,” she said.  “Much as you are to War, I am to Him.”

    
“I can’t do any of the things you do, though,” I whispered.

    
She looked in my eyes and raised an eyebrow.  “Can’t you, in your own way?”

    
I had no answer to that.

    
“Is she your other woman, White Wolf?” she asked me, pointedly not looking at Genna.

    
“Inasmuch as she isn’t my woman at all, yes,” I said.  “That’s Genna.”

    
“She is staring at us,” Shela said.  “She does not look well.”

    
“I told you, she’s sick.”

    
Shela stayed quiet after that.  Nantar and Thorn greeted Genna and asked how she felt.  Genna avoided eye contact with me, so I ignored her.  Finally Ancenon and D’gattis came back down stairs, D’gattis looking unhappy.

    
As we finished getting our armor off, Thorn updated the Uman-Chi and Genna, painting a picture of an unavoidable conflict and an ally on the plains because of it.  In his narrative, Thorn never used the words “married” or “wife,” and it occurred to me that no one else had either.  Neither had there been any sort of ceremony.  Still, the Priest in Purple and the Wizard in Yellow were obviously unsure.

    
Genna’s lips were fixed in a thin line, her eyes avoiding me.

    
“You don’t plan to include a slave girl in the Free Legion?” Ancenon asked. After consulting Nantar and Thorn, I had explained the Free Legion to Shela, and what we had been doing, on the trip into the city.  She would find out anyway, better that she hear it from me.

    
“I have no desire for that,” she said.  The two looked at her as she tightened my breeches and pushed me down on a pillow.  Standing behind me, working her fingers into my shoulders, she added,  “I am a Long Manes plains woman.  I follow my man and I mother his children, and I want no allegiances other than that when the children start coming.”

    
“Good,” Genna said, not looking at anyone.

    
“Fair enough,” Ancenon said, fending off the impending argument.  D’gattis just grumbled, a response which I could tell Shela liked.

    
“What have you been up to for five days, then,” Thorn asked.  He looked around.  “Redecorating and hiring manservants, apparently.”

    
Nantar laughed and D’gattis stood, walking to the vat on the one table.  He dipped an ale mug and raised it dripping to his lips.  The servant who had helped Nantar and Thorn with their armor returned from upstairs with a platter stacked with some cold meat and bread.

    
“This is just a vault disguised as a town home,” D’gattis said, as Nantar took a huge hunk of bread and a stack of meat.  “The upstairs has sleeping quarters, a kitchen, room for guards or for us to defend from, if need be.  The guard outside is from a Volkhydran warlord’s retinue.  The staff has sworn fealty and can be trusted when we aren’t here.”

    
“And the gold?” Thorn asked, taking bread and meat. 

    
“We laid the floor over it,” Ancenon said, half-grinning.  “Took up the whole room.  Next we can do the upstairs.  There are about ten bars invested in the city, as well, and another twenty in a shipping company, meaning free transport for ourselves and small numbers of retainers to any port in the bay.  Tomorrow we will have a teleportal to Outpost X from here, and we can begin moving gold.”

    
“So there really is an Outpost X,” Shela said. 

    
“That might be what we’re talking about,” Genna mumbled.

    
I looked back and nodded to Shela, feeling a guilty pleasure as I enjoyed the feel of her fingers in my shoulders.  “We killed a lot of Confluni getting in and out of there.”

    
“And Genna paid a high price,” D’gattis added, looking right at Shela.  If he couldn’t get at her one way, then he would try another.

    
It didn’t seem to affect Shela, although all eyes moved between her and Genna.

    
The door opened and Drekk slipped inside, shedding a black cloak as he entered.  You could look at him and know he didn’t like the gold insignia, and still did his best to hide it.  I wondered why he hadn’t just changed his armor.

    
“Well?” Thorn asked him, when he just sat quietly.

    
He looked Shela up and down and said nothing.  Then he looked back at the rest of us.  I had used one of Genna’s daggers to cut four slices of bread and stacked meat in between to make two sandwiches.  Nantar watched me with interest, his hands greasy, as I handed one sandwich to Shela. 

    
Drekk finally said, “Well, on the local level, no one seems to care that we’re here, which is good.  They aren’t planning on doing anything that we wouldn’t like; there are no big renovations or actions on the horizons.  The harvest is going well and most people are focused on that.

    
“There is an international action going against Dorkan for the attacks on Outpost IX and the Great Dwarven Nation.  Trenbon wanted one hundred bars of gold for reparations and the Dorkans refused, stating lack of evidence, and that led to a raid on Katarran.  From what I can tell, the city is still under siege while the Fovean Council debates what to do.

    
“There is very little localized gang activity here – no one I could contact for certain.  Crime is low because honor is very important to Andarans. I saw some activity on the wharf, but nothing more.”

    
We all nodded.  It seemed like pretty good reconnaissance; Drekk knew his job.  Then he looked at me.

    
“I heard a lot of buzzing about that horse of yours, though,” he said, almost accusingly.  “He is a liability.  The tribes are going to be coming around looking for it.  Either it needs to leave, or you need to leave with it.  We are about to be sought out regularly.”

    
“I agree with him,” Shela said, to me but for all to hear.  “Kills With a Glance will brag to every other tribe that he traded me to the man who tamed a stallion from the Wild Horse Plains.  They will come like war parties with their daughters to demand the same deal you gave him.”

    
“Now there is an image for the mind to ponder,” D’gattis commented.

    
“Don’t think he isn’t pondering it,” Genna muttered.

    
“There
are
worse images,” Arath added.

    
I blushed despite myself and focused on my sandwiches, mumbling that they would be better with some lettuce and tomato or a nice piece of cheese.  Drekk shook his head, as if in mock pity at the price I might pay.

    
“So the question is, ‘Where to from here?’” Nantar asked.

    
They looked at Ancenon, who looked at me.  I nodded to him – the time had come to be together on this.  He took a deep draw of breath to buy another moment to think, then spoke.

    
“Lupus and I, as well as D’gattis,” Ancenon said, “have speculated that with this much wealth, there is the possibility of raising a very large, multinational army.”

    
Nantar scoffed, still watching my sandwich.  “And do what with it?”

    
“Sell our services to other nations,” Ancenon said.  “Multinational peace-keeping is waiting for a force of mercenaries to keep the bigger nations out of it.”

    
“Or to be used against them,” I added.

    
“Exactly,” D’gattis said.

    
“And when the Fovean High Council decides to unite every nation against us?” Thorn asked.

    
“We sell our services to every nation,” I said.  “They need us, so they never find anything wrong with us.  The Fovean High Council is made up of Fovean nations who will be using our services.”