"I see you, lads. What is it brings you here on such a cold day?" says he, looking at me and Devlin in turn.
"We'd be mighty glad of a place by your fire for a minute or two," says Devlin, tryin' to sound old and weak. "My boy here is weary and my bones are chilled through. We slept on the cold ground last night, and truth told I'm gettin' too old for that sort of lark."
The man just stood there, never offered us water or chelan or even room by the fire, so Devlin started tellin' him the story he'd thought up, about how I was his sister's new-orphaned boy and she'd just died and we was looking for my ma's sister. I tried to feel and act wretched, but I couldn't help watchin' the old man's face. He stared at us for a minute, like he was lookin' through us, then he started in to laugh. "You damn fools, is that the best you can do?" He laughed harder, and I could see Dev workin' to keep quiet. The old man just kept on laughin'.
"Stranger, my captain gave us that same story to use thirty years ago. Either it's come back into use or it's never gone away, but in any case I know it too well to believe it for a single breath."
Devlin never said a word, just looked at him.
The man straightened up and stopped laughing. "I don't know your names, lads, and I don't want to. Only thing I need to know is—
Then he started talking nonsense, least it sounded like that to me. None of the words made sense. I near fell over when Devlin answered him in the same language.
Jamie
I hadn't used mere—mercenary cant—for many years, but these things never really leave you.
"Right, you. Are you what you seem or just an upstart wanting to make a dirty living? Can you understand me?"
"Of course I can, granddad," the leader answered. His accent was strange, and he was surprised to say the least. "Never thought to find a brother here."
"I'm not your grandsire nor no more your brother than that youngster is your son, and don't you think otherwise. I left your life a long time since and I've no mind to rejoin it. What are you doing here, and what do you want?"
"A mark."
I instantly slipped into the darker tongue of the assassins. "You don't have the look of this about you, but if you know what I am saying you are bound by blood to answer. Are you here for death or for taking?"
"What in the hells did you just say? That wasn't cant," the man responded in mere, angry. Well, that was a blessing in any case. He didn't look bright enough to lie that well.
"Very well," I said, speaking in common again for the younger lad's benefit. 'This is fair warning. I know who you are. I don't know why you're here but I can guess. Know that I have lived your life, and a darker one yet than that, and you do not frighten me. Go now, tell your buyer you couldn't find what he sought. Come back here, by sun or moon, and I will not waste time in speech. If I see either of you again I will assume that you mean death or harm to me and mine and I will kill you the first chance I get. Be warned. Next time I will not stop to speak."
The older one nodded ever so slighdy and I knew he believed me. "I give you leave to go, right now," I said. "Once you are out of my sight don't come back."
Calium
I couldn't believe Devlin was just taking this. Here was this skinny old man, no sword on him, not even a knife, and he was threatening Devlin and me both. I'd seen Devlin kill a man, right in front of my eyes, for a lot less, and here he was backing down.
"You don't scare me, old man," I cried, standing up to him. Small as I was, he was only a little taller. "Talk never won a fight! You're old and slow, you'd best watch your back or some dark ni—"
I had to stop speaking. I didn't want to, I had a few good insults I'd thought up, but when a man has a knife to your throat and your arms pinned to your sides, there's not a lot to say. Damn, I'd have sworn he was unarmed.
"He's not worth it," says Devlin, calm as can be. "Hells, he's green and stupid, but don't take it out on him."
"I'm not in the habit of slaughtering idiots," says the old man. He put away his knife and turned me around to look at him, still holding my arms pinned. He was lot stronger than he looked.
He looks deep into my eyes and shakes his head, real slow. "You're brave enough, lad, but you're cocky and you're slow. Get out of this business now, while you can. There are other ways to get through life and almost all of them will see you living a lot longer than this one. You're not made for it."
He threw me towards Devlin, who caught me before I fell on the cold ground. "Warning taken, master," said Devlin. "But I'm nor green nor foolish. And I've been paid."
"Hells help you then," says the man. "You've been told." He turned on his heel at that and went back through the big double doors and closed them behind him.
Devlin pulled me away with him, swearing. When we were out of earshot, I had to ask. Just casual, as we were walking back to the others.
"What was that you two were saying?"
"It's mere's cant," says Devlin. "Shows we're both mercenaries with some years of fighting and a measure of blood behind us. I'm not sure what that other noise he was making was, but I've a feeling it was rather worse than better."
We walked in silence a few moments more. "You're not afraid of him, are you?" I said.
Devlin just kept walking. "Yes, I damn well am. He's faster than I am, and I'd wager he knows everything I know and more as well. Even without the cant I was worried. He's sharp. Like a knife he's sharp."
"So what are we going to do?"
Devlin sighed. "We are not going to do anything. I'm going back to the others, and you're going to get on your horse and go home."
"What!" I cried. "You can't believe that old man, he was just lucky, I wouldn't—"
And for me second time in half an hour I was held helpless. Devlin wasn't as strong or as quick, but he managed all the same. "If I can do you, lad, that other one would have your heart on a stick before you knew you were dead. I've thought it before. He's right, you're just too slow. Go home. Find a girl, work on a farm, join the King's Men somewhere, find any sort of life you want but get out of this one. You're not right for it."
And what really scared me was that Devlin wasn't angry. He talked like he was talking about the weather. "I'll do what I please, it's my life!" I cried, struggling.
He let me go and kept walking. "So it is. Please yourself, Callum. But when you're dying in some ditch before me year's out—or maybe the week—remember I warned you. So now your dying curse can't touch me." He brushed his hands one against the other. "I'll not say word more, I've done what I could. The rest be on your own back."
I shook myself and walked alongside him. I was mad: at myself, at Devlin, at that scary old man. I wasn't about to give up. But even then I wasn't completely stupid, and in the hidden part of me that admitted to fear I started to wonder if maybe there was something in what they said.
When we joined the others we drew back to that little bit of woodland we'd left the night before—it gave at least some shelter and there was enough wood to burn without spending every second looking for more. Our cook started up a good fire and put some potatoes by to bake in the foot of it, then made up a broth from the last of the meat we'd bought at the market some days since and a handful or so of barley. It wasn't much, but it was food and it was hot and that's all that mattered.
Ross and Devlin called us all together in the twilight of that early winter's night. We all sat as near the fire as we could. I was shivering something awful despite the food and regretting the mild southern winter we'd left behind when Devlin started talking.
"Right, lads. We're up against worse than we thought. I never saw the woman, but I'd swear my life she's there. Problem is, she's got a lot of help. The man we met, whoever he is, has been a mere, and he's told us straight he'll kill us if he sees us again. You all need to know that." He described the man so we'd all know him on sight.
"If you think I've come this far and been this cold just to walk away now, you're daft," says Ross.
Devlin smiled. "Aye, so I t
hought, but you had to know. And make no mistake, he surely will kill us quick enough if he sees us. So we can't let him see us. We move tonight. And he's been a mere, knew our story off pat, so he'll also know all the standard distractions and ignore them. So no cries for help in the middle of the night, no stray saddled horse come rattling into their courtyard, no howling wolves too close to the house. I need some fresh ideas and I need 'em fast."
"Our luck, the bloody wolves'll howl fine on their own," said Jaker sourly.
Ross spoke up. "That courtyard's mostly stables, isn't it? The lad in the village said they breed horses."
"Aye," says Devlin. "And so?"
"Horses hate fire, don't they?"
"You don't say," put in Jaker. He was in charge of the horses—guess that's why he said that about wolves. "They hate it, and it makes 'em stupid. I've seen 'em run back into a burning barn just to get killed—and a hell of a noise they make."
Then Ross says, "So why don't we set fire to the barn?"
Even in that company there was a hiss of quick-drawn breath. Fire happens when it happens and every man alive works to put it out. We were meres, not outlaws. My da had once told me about a fire he'd seen, a house caught somehow and they couldn't get the people out. He'd said he'd heard the screams for what seemed like hours. I still sometimes had nightmares about that.
Dev just waited, but nobody else said a thing.
"Not as easy as it sounds," he says after a few minutes, thoughtful. "They build with stone around here. Those barns are stone to the rooftree and slate tiled above. Not much to burn there." He stared into the fire for a moment, then he smiled real slow and looked around at us. "But the stalls have windows on the outer wall, and they're closed with wooden shutters," he says, right pleased with himself.
"But fire..." says Hask. I was surprised. I'd always thought him a hard man.
"It's not as bad as that," says Devlin. "We won't burn the people, we'll just scare the horses. Jaker, we'll all ride halfway there and walk the rest—you keep the horses where we stop, safe for our retreat. The rest of you—if Old Man Merc comes out to fight, you kill him before he can do you. Anybody else, just take them out the fight fast as you can, no need for killing unless you've got to. The girl's tall as a man, she should be easy to spot. Soon as one of you has her, let out a long whistle and all scatter. We'll meet back at the village—not here, it's too close."
"I don't like it, Dev," says Hask. He stood up. "Fire ain't right. I near got kilt in a fire when I were young. Fire ain't right."
Dev just looked up at him, for Hask was a big man. "You got a better idea?"
Hask shook his head.
"Then it's set," says Dev. "Jaker, you reckon Hask could take care of the horses for the time?"
"Sure," says Jaker. He and Hask had been working for Dev a long time, and they were as close to being friends as men got in such places. He took Hask aside and started talking horses at him.
I got out my knives and started in to sharpen all three of 'em. I planned to take Old Man Merc myself, pay him out for making me look a fool in front of Dev. My speciality was throwing knives and I was damn good at it.
Well, I thought I was damn good at it.
Lanen
Jamie told us about the mercenaries at the noon meal. Varien was appalled by the idea of men that were paid to fight but he wasn't stupid, and even he could tell that the expression on Jamie's face wasn't one that invited questions.
"I'd guess that someone from your trip isn't happy about the way it worked out, my girl. Maybe Marik got better," he said. "I certainly haven't done anything to rattle anyone lately. Can you think of anyone else who'd come this far and pay meres to look for you?"
"Only Marik, or the demon master he works with," I said. "He's the only one I know of with a reason, but I'd be amazed if Marik could even speak yet, let alone plan such a thing."
Jamie drought for a moment. "Must be the demon master, then. Why in all the Hells has he sent men instead of demons?"
Varien spoke, but his calm voice was belied by the anger in his eyes. "Demons demand quite a price for their services. Perhaps he is not wealthy, or has run out of blood he is willing to part with."
"Where is Marik, anyway?" asked Jamie, looking relieved that we weren't going to have to fight demons just yet. "Someone must be looking after him, surely. Who would it be? You said he was the head of a Merchant House."
"His men carried him from the ship," said Varien quietly. "I know not where they took him."
Jamie sighed. "Truth to tell, I've almost been waiting for this. Stories are all well and good, my Lanen, and they sound fine coming from a bard, but real people who are after you don't just let you get away. You've come away the winners of this last bout, but it sounds like there is too much at stake for it to stop just because you give up. There are always loose ends from any weave. You seem to have left a right trail of them behind you."
I laughed, imagining a ravelling bit of rough-woven cloth trailing behind my horse, but I was the only one. Varien looked thoughtful.
"What are they most likely to do, Mas—Jamie?" he asked. "Would they attack such a stronghold as this?"
"Depends on their numbers," Jamie said. "If there's a score of them they might try it, but if they're less than ten they'll think of some distraction to make their way easier. We need to know what they're after first."
"Could it be the gold?" I asked quietly. "I don't think anyone saw it, but we brought back—quite a lot from the Dragon Isle."
"What!" cried Jamie. "Lanen, you never said word!"
I grinned. "You never asked. I was going to leave it as a surprise. The dragons—well, they—they have plenty, and we decided it might come in useful here."
"How much do you have with you? I've seen the circlet you wear," he said to Varien. "That's bad enough. Most men don't ever see that much gold in their lives. Many don't see gold at all. Did you bring—is there much more?"
I went to fetch my pack and brought it to Jamie. "Inside," I said.
Jamie felt around inside the nearly-empty pack. When he found it his eyes grew wide. He lifted out a lump of gold, that the dragons call khaadish, about the size of his fist. He stared at it, his jaw slack in wonder.
"Lanen tells me that khaadish is rare among your people, Master," said Varien calmly, "yet I have no sense of its worth. I saw no scrap of it on our journey here. What could you do with that much—"
"Gold. It's called gold, Varien." Jamie blinked. "Hellsfire. What could you do with it? Varien, a silver piece is worth twelve coppers. You can pay a man two coppers for a day's work and know he has the full value of it, for coppers are cut into halves and quarters—they're called haves and farthings, and most men deal in coppers for daily business. We sell horses, the best in Kolmar, and we occasionally see a gold piece for our best stud stallions. There are a hundred silver pieces to a single gold coin. A man's work for two years, that's what gold is worth. And that's a single thin coin. There must be—gods, there must be the best part of two hundred gold coins here. Enough to buy this whole farm and every stud and mare on it, and the work of the men for years to come."
Varien bowed his head briefly and closed his eyes. "I thank you," he said, sighing. Glancing up again he looked to me. "I think I begin to understand why so many of the harvesters over the long years dared to breach the Boundary and face our wrath. Your legends tell of—of dragons stealing and hoarding this metal, do they not?"
"Yes, they do." Jamie watched Varien carefully. "Is it true?"
"No. We do not seek it out. We do not regard it at all. The Gedri obsession with it passes our understanding."
"And yet here it is, a fortune—"
"Jameth, it is in our nature," said Varien, beginning to grow angry. "A man once betrayed his friendship with the Kantri for the sake of this yellow metal, a betrayal that cost the life of the one who had trusted him. The metal is of no worth save as ornament, and yet you tell me it is so highly valued among you—by the bright sky above
, I do not understand!"
"If you do not seek it out, how then have you so much of it?" persisted Jamie.
"I have told you, it is in our nature," replied Varien, his anger plain now. "Where we sleep we turn the ground to this stuff. It is simply the way things are."
Jamie let out a low whistle. "By the Lady," he muttered.
He replaced the gold in my pack and handed it back to me, shaking his head. "Well, you learn something with each new day, true enough. But this doesn't answer the question. If you've kept that close hidden, it's not the gold they'd be after. Besides, it was the wrong story," he said. "They'd need to have come in to look over the place for that—they'd have cut the young lad and brought him here for healing, so we'd be too concerned about him and not notice his companion looking in every room. No, the story he used was only for finding a way in, or for finding a particular person." He looked up at me. "Hell's teeth, Lanen. Silver to horseshit it's you." He sprang up from his chair and started pacing the room. "Hells take it..." I let him get it out of his system. He swore pretty well when he worked up to it, he even used one or two I'd never heard from the sailors on the Harvest ship, when I went to the Dragon Isle.
"You said that bastard Marik wanted you for a sacrifice while you were on that island," Jamie said finally. "Well, I'd wager my year's earnings these men are here to finish what he started."
I shuddered. It made a lot of sense. Marik had been desperate to give me to that demon—it had been stopped only because Akor had rescued me. I looked to Varien and saw sadness in his eyes.
" Were the same to happen I could not save you now, dear-ling," he said in truespeech. "I am a man, more so each day, and only a Lord of the Kantri can battle one of the Lords of Hell and hope to prevail."
"I expect you're right. What are we to do now, Jamie? Do you think they would attack the house?"
"They will if they've been paid enough. We'll set a watch tonight, and you come sleep in the common room—it's the easiest to defend and it has a fireplace."