Summerblood (51 page)

In the meantime, she endured and tried to plot ways to escape these fellows, and—much more frequently—worried about the regalia.

Not only had she failed in her mission, she'd also failed in the worst way possible: by delivering the whole crux of the balance of power between Eron and Ixti into radical Ixtian hands. Inon, who'd evidently been fairly high-ranking in Barrax's army, had made no secret of the fact that he intended to rally every renegade band he could find and, when he had enough, contest Kraxxi's right to Ixti's throne.

Which, she supposed, made her thrice-cursed now, since she'd betrayed her hold, her brother, and—apparently—her former lover. If she kept on, she'd probably betray everyone she knew. Which would surely get her listed in the Histories, but not in a way she wanted to ponder.

To distract herself from such dark imaginings, she studied the landscape more closely; then, when that grew boring, gave herself over to practicing some of the meditation routines Warcraft taught as a means of distancing oneself from one's body while under torture. Often, too, they served as aids to sleep, or simply as ways to make time pass when time proved intolerable—as, for instance, when one was awaiting battle.

Still, she was surprised to be lost in tranquillity one moment, then jostled from it the next, to find herself staring down from a final low ridge to that very same finger of the Flat that had seemed so distant earlier.

“Down,” Orkeen snapped in bad Eronese, then remembered she couldn't get down without assistance, whereupon he swore and roughly untied the ropes that bound her wrists to the saddle horn. Honor made her try to club him with her fists, but he laughed and dodged, whereupon that same honor made her kick at him as he unbound her feet from the stirrups. He
gave her a casual shove on her second trial, knocking her to the ground. Breath huffed out of her where she lay sprawling, half-stunned.

Orkeen's shadow fell atop her, and he yanked her up, only to draw back his fist and knock her down again, this time with a blow to the jaw that made her see stars and taste blood. She was trying to struggle back to her feet, with instinct alone in control, when Inon grabbed her assailant from behind, spun him around, and gave him a taste of what he'd given her. “She's the King of Eron's sister,” Inon spat. “I've no illusions about either of them ever being allies, but I'd as soon give them no more cause to hate me than they already have. An injured hostage is worth less than a hale hostage, however slight the injury, and that's a fact.”

Orkeen had risen by then, with more than a glint of challenge in his eyes. He started to charge Inon again, but Inon moved aside with a speed and grace that would've done one of the Night Guard proud, adding a kick in the rump as he passed, which sent the other man headlong into the mixture of scrubby weeds and sand that marked the start of the Flat. As if an afterthought, Inon strolled casually over and kicked Orkeen smartly in the groin, which doubled him up immediately. “That's in case you might be tempted to try what Shaul thought I didn't see.” With that he turned back to Merryn. “Are you all right?” he asked in the best Eronese of the five.

“Considering,” she muttered.

“We'll camp near here tonight,” Inon told the group in general. Merryn tried not to betray the fact that she understood him.

A cloud of dust from the north proved to be young Ivk arriving, with more dust in his wake. “We missed it,” he announced, pointing back the way he'd come. “It's around that next ridge, maybe a shot.”

“Close enough to walk when you've been riding all day,” Inon sighed. “Orkeen, you can untie the prisoners' legs, but keep them hobbled.”

“Aye,” Orkeen managed from the ground, where he was still clutching his crotch.

“Now.”

Orkeen staggered to his feet, shooting Inon an evil glare when he thought his commander wasn't looking. Merryn merely watched in bland amusement as Orkeen—with Ivk and the remaining man, Tahlone, observing—placed hobble-cuffs on Merryn's ankles. Tahlone, who seemed older and more world-weary than the rest, stared impassively while Krynneth was also unhorsed and freed.

A moment later, they were walking north, where a line of trees showed beside what Merryn reckoned might be a river. The land underfoot was more sand than anything else, for the summer winds blew from the south and carried grit that way, but this finger of the Flat was not as bare as most of that no-man's-land.

In fact—as she discovered to her surprise when Orkeen, who walked ahead of her, moved aside so she could actually see—there was, or had been, a small hold here.

The architecture proclaimed it Eronese, as—once they'd forced the locked gate in the high outer wall—did the artifacts ranged around the forecourt, including what had been a caravan of the sort used on treks. Everything looked abandoned, however, and any paint the caravan had sported that could have given some clue to its origin had long since been washed, scoured, or sun-bleached away. No carved clan sigils were visible, either, which said a lot right there—notably that the hold had probably belonged to clanless folk, a fair number of whom had gone west in the years before the plague, or else fled it.

In any case, the buildings looked solid, if hastily built, though the caravan had already been old when the plague began. Too bad there was no way to discover more without being free, and she didn't see that as an option anytime soon.

She wondered if Krynneth had drawn the same conclusions. More to the point, she wondered if he'd drawn any
conclusions at all. Ever since their capture, he'd been silent, like a man who had endured one thing too many and retreated inside himself. Perhaps he had. As it was, she'd heard him speak exactly four words since they'd fallen in with these folks: “Piss,” “shit,” “yes,” and “no.” Those kept him from soiling himself, which was apparently all their captors required. That she was the prize was obvious.

Wordlessly, almost cautiously, they pushed through a second gate into a walled side court, of which the hold itself made one side, while another consisted of a row of stables so solidly built they seemed an outlandish extravagance.

Inon studied the area appraisingly, nodded satisfaction, and tossed his reins to Shaul. “Geen country,” he said tersely. “That's why the stone and the bars on the windows.”

Merryn blinked at that: She hadn't noted those things and probably should have. Especially the windows. Geens were pack hunters and as likely to hunt at night as by day. They were also smart enough to raise wooden door latches and open shutters. Thick walls and steel bars were the only sure defense where they were common. And since they liked to eat horses, and stabled horses were easy meat—well, that explained the sturdy construction.

“I need a bath,” Inon announced abruptly.

“So do I,” Ivk—whom Merryn had decided was Inon's nephew—agreed. Orkeen snorted.

Inon glared at him. “We all do, actually, but we can't leave the prisoners unguarded, and I don't want to bring them with us.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully, eyeing the stables. “Ivk, see if there's somewhere we can lock them away unsupervised in there. A tack room or feed room, maybe.”

Ivk nodded, and he and Tahlone half led, half dragged Merryn and Krynneth to the long, low, stone-walled building. Typical of such places, a single main door gave on an enclosed exercise area that fronted the standard eight stalls, all of which sported sturdy oak doors, with two more rooms flanking that
area at either end. One of those doors had stripped its hinges, however, while another opened onto a room that had lost its roof, which only left two options unless they used the stalls. “Together or separate?” Ivk wondered aloud.

Tahlone patted his pouch. “Only got one lock, so I guess it'll have to be together.”

Leaving Merryn and Krynneth in Tahlone's care, Ivk tried both doors and decided on the right-hand one. “In,” he said in Eronese, motioning them forward. Merryn thought about balking, but Tahlone's sword suddenly pressed against her back. Oh well, if she was lucky, she'd get a chance to talk to Krynneth alone for the first time since their capture.

A final shove sent her sprawling into old hay atop cobblestones, and she was just starting to rise when Krynneth piled in atop her. The door slammed. The key grated in the lock.

“Could be worse,” she said aloud, not so much to Krynneth as to convince herself. At least it wasn't as dark as she'd feared, for the room sported a pair of narrow, barred windows that looked into the side court. Shaul was leading the horses there now, prior to stabling them. Inon was nowhere to be seen. Likely he'd made good on his vow to bathe in the river. Which struck her as odd. Even the poorest Eronese hold had a bathhouse.

But probably not running water, at least not here.

“Piss,” Krynneth said abruptly, sounding distinctly embarrassed. Merryn rolled her eyes, thinking he was asking for aid. She glanced around at him, but he was facing the wall by then, and the sound of liquid splattering against the stone was loud in the dusty gloom. At least they'd given him that much dignity: tying his hands so he could reach himself. Which set her to wondering exactly where the limits of their consideration lay.

Inon wasn't a bad sort, if one remembered that he was a soldier from a defeated army. Ivk was also a decent lad, if naive and given to worship of his kinsman. The other three had the
feel of men who were used to being commanded—and hated it, but weren't smart enough to function well in an alien land on their own. Which perhaps explained their brutality. It was sublimated frustration given an outlet in the most obvious symbols they had to hand. At home—if they had homes—they were probably decent men as well.

Krynneth had finished by then and turned around, looking sheepish. Giving the little puddle in the corner a glare of contempt, he shuffled over to stand beside her, then slowly let himself slide down the wall. She sank down beside him. “Damn,” he said. A fifth word.

“Yes,” she replied sadly. “I agree.”

To Merryn's surprise, she dozed—though not for long, for the light was much the same as it had been when they'd been imprisoned. The shadows were a
little
longer, she reckoned, but not enough to account for more than half a hand.

Still, much had changed in the courtyard that their captors were evidently making their base in lieu of the house. Tahlone had a fire going, and Shaul was making constant trips into what must've been the pantry, for he kept emerging with food.

And drink.

Drink they all approved, judging by the howls of joy that greeted its arrival.
Eight
, Merryn thought, when she saw one distinctive barrel.
That's walnut brandy!
Which was as potent a beverage as existed. They'd best go easy with that, she reckoned, then chuckled to herself. Knowing soldiers, they wouldn't. She'd enjoy their headaches the next day— if those headaches didn't translate into violence toward prisoners.

Inon was back from his bath now, and wandering around in just his breeches, revealing a fine, compact physique. Ivk had evidently fallen in fully clothed and returned in a blanket, which Orkeen had promptly grabbed, leaving the naked youth
to chase him around the yard while Inon watched, his expression a mix of amusement and disgust.

It was nearing sunset, and Tahlone was making dinner over a fire, which told Merryn that the kitchen itself had collapsed. Still, the food smelled heavenly—for camp fare. She caught the scent of onions and garlic, which had probably been hung dried inside, preserved by the arid climate thereabouts.

In any case, her captors seemed more interested in the drink than the food, and more again when three bottles of wine and one of beer were found and opened. The latter spewed half its contents before Orkeen stuffed it into his mouth, to the applause and laughter of the others. Ivk found a small cask of mead and filled a mug. And nursed it, Merryn noted with approval, for by so doing, he was showing himself the wisest of the lot. She had her eye on him: As youngest, he might also be the most susceptible to bribery—or guile—of whatever kind she could contrive.

It being summer, darkness came late, so the men were still full awake by the time they'd finished their meal, which meant they still had plenty of time for drinking—which seemed to be their intent. Merryn tried to hear what they were discussing, but only caught snatches. Inon, however, was far enough into his cups to be espousing details of his ever-evolving scheme to use the regalia to assemble a band of followers with whom to contest the crown. Orkeen—the drunkest of the lot—was claiming first one high-ranking title, then another.

“Won't matter,” Shaul grumbled, “if we don't know for absolute fact that we've captured the real thing.”

“I saw it at the battle,” Inon snapped back. “Close up.”

Orkeen shrugged. “I saw a bloody lot of armor, and all of it well made.”

“Yeah,” Shaul chimed in again, cheerfully drunk, “but how come you had time to look at armor, anyway?”

“I didn't—until the last. Not until Avall and Lynnz were
preparing to fight. I was in the third circle out from them. I saw.”

“One way t' prove it,” Shaul said.

Ivk looked up sharply. “Not smart,” he muttered.

Already drunk, Shaul turned nasty all in a moment's time. He turned in a flash and stomped over to where Ivk sat quietly. Ivk had barely time to raise his arm before Shaul backhanded him across the face, catching his mug of mead in the process.

Orkeen howled with laughter, but Inon and Tahlone were on Shaul in an instant, hauling him off Ivk, who was bleeding from the nose. “You're drunk,” Inon growled. “Now leave the boy alone. If you want to do us all a favor, take a bath. You stink.”

Shaul stiffened, then managed to jerk free of Tahlone long enough to swing at Inon. Inon fended him off well enough, but Shaul was persistent—and larger. A final jerk freed his other hand, and he hurled himself full into Inon. Both crashed to the ground close enough to the fire to knock one log free. Ivk hopped back, then started to dive into the fray on Inon's side, but Tahlone reined him back with a curt, “This has been coming for a while, might as well let them finish it.”