Fimbulwinter (Daniel Black) (7 page)

from the inner side of the wagons. The peasants huddled together miserably, a

few of the more industrious ones claiming one or another of the little firepits

that dotted the field and casting about for wood to burn.

I was distracted from my observations by a crackling and glow of

firelight beside my wagon, and turned to find that Avilla had somehow

managed to get a fire going in the few minutes we’d been stationary. She hung a

little pot full of snow over the blaze as I watched, and smiled up at me.

“I think I’m getting the hang of starting fires, master,” she declared. “I’ll

have a nice, warm stew ready in a half hour or so.”

She said it so naturally I had to remind myself it was just a charade.

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‘Master’ was a normal term of respect for an apprentice speaking to her

teacher, but I’d gathered that this land was pretty medieval in its attitudes about

things like civil rights. A master was supposed to support and train his

apprentices, but he was also responsible for their discipline and I doubted they

had many options if he decided to be brutal about it. An ordinary craftsman

would have to worry about the opinions of his neighbors and the local lord, but

one who traveled didn’t even have that minimal constraint. Let alone a wizard.

It was the kind of place where any attractive female who took an

apprenticeship would expect servicing her master to be part of the job, hence

the constant assumptions along those lines from everyone around us. I was

starting to wonder why the girls had been so willing to go along with a plan

that essentially involved pretending to be my personal concubines. But then

again, the fact that Captain Rain had felt the need to reassure them he wasn’t

going to let his men casually rape them was also pretty telling. Pretending they

were already taken might be the only way they could avoid having some

asshole decide to ‘claim’ them.

Ah, well. When in Rome, at least act Roman enough that you don’t stand

out too much. Low-tech societies tend to be xenophobic too, and the last thing I

wanted was to create a situation where I’d end up making enemies of the local

humans. The monsters were bad enough.

So I just nodded, trying to look like I was used to having a beautiful girl

waiting on me hand and foot. “Good. Do you need anything?”

“We’ll manage, sir.”

Cerise shot me a grin. “You know Avilla and her cooking, master. Give

her a couple of days and she’ll be baking cookies over an open fire somehow.”

Avilla swatted her arm. “Hush, you! Find me the ladle, and then peel a

few of those potatoes.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Avilla settled in to preparing our meal with the casual skill of an

experienced chef, with Cerise smoothly adopting the role of assistant. I left

them to it, and set about making a circuit of the camp to see what I could learn

about our hosts.

There were only about a hundred of the soldiers. Their weary faces and

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ragged gear told the story of a hard-fought campaign that they knew they were

losing, but they saw to their tasks with the disciplined efficiency of veterans.

After fifty percent casualties that was pretty damned amazing, and my respect

for Captain Rain rose several notches. Not many officers could hold a unit

together under circumstances like these.

The civilians, on the other hand, were shell-shocked refugees who might

have stepped right out of a charity advertisement. They were a fair-skinned,

dark-haired people, a bit short but not as tiny as medieval peasants had been

back on Earth. The typical clothing was essentially a sack of rough cloth with

holes for arms and legs, although here and there I saw a proper dress or

something resembling pants. Shoes were a rarity, with most of the refugees,

just wrapping their feet with rags, and I wondered how many frostbite cases

I’d get before we reached our destination.

There weren’t nearly as many children in the crowd as I would have

expected, especially considering the large family sizes that were normal for

preindustrial societies. Lots of teenagers and older kids, but very few toddlers

or infants. There were also noticeably fewer adult men than women, and all of

the survivors clutched at improvised weapons. Mostly farm implements, like

scythes and hoes, but a few had hunting bows or improvised spears.

The implications were grim. These were the people who’d fought their

way free of a long string of disasters, and anyone who couldn’t keep up hadn’t

made it this far.

On the good side, there was a small herd of sheep and cattle with them

and most of the wagons seemed to be loaded with food. At least we weren’t

going to starve anytime soon, and arriving at a besieged settlement with stores

in tow was a good way to get invited inside the walls. The wagons themselves

were a bit run down, however, and my thoughts quickly turned to options for

repairing or replacing them. I couldn’t shape wood, and stone would be too

heavy to make a wagon out of, but there ought to be something I could do.

Captain Rain found me still musing on the subject some minutes later, and

pulled me aside.

“Not to be too demanding after all your good work this afternoon, but I

wanted to see if you can do anything about the security of the camp,” he said in

a low voice. “The goblins like to try to sneak in and cut men’s throats in the

dark, and sometimes they bring trolls.”

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I considered the problem for a moment, eying the layout of the camp.

Yeah, the shadows cast by the wagons would make it hard to keep watch, and

the tree line wasn’t that far away. Come to think of it, weren’t medieval people

usually night-blind from some kind of vitamin deficiency?

“That’s a tricky problem,” I told him. “I could set a ward around the camp

to detect motion and sound an alarm, but we’d get a lot of false alarms from

wandering animals. I can shape earth, but building a wall and ditch substantial

enough to slow down trolls would be quite a project. Hmm. What about setting

traps? I could turn some patches of ground around the camp into stone spikes,

like a field of caltrops. One goblin might sneak past, but if a bunch of them try

it some of them are bound to hit a patch.”

His eyes glinted in the firelight. “I like the sound of that. The little

bastards always pitch a fit when they get hurt, and trolls are worse. Alright, I’ll

detail a squad to escort you while you set it up. How long will that take?”

“Maybe twenty minutes.”

He nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate the consideration you’ve been

showing the men, sir. Most wizards would put up a lot of fuss about ‘wasting’

their time and magic on common folk.”

“Yes, well, I try to be more practical than that. For all I know the soldier

I save today may be guarding my back tomorrow. But I’d better get this done

before it gets completely dark.”

I was surprised how nervous it made me to leave the circle of wagons as

the sun set, with shadows already pooling under the trees where anything might

be lurking. But sergeant Thomas showed up momentarily with a half-dozen

burly fighting men in tow, and they seemed to know their business. It took a

few minutes longer than expected, but I got a nice irregular ring of traps laid in

just as the last sliver of sun dipped below the trees.

Then I was back to my own little camp, to enjoy my first taste of Avilla’s

cooking. She greeted me with a cheery smile, handing me a wooden bowl of

dark stew along with a generous hunk of bread. I wondered for a moment how

she’d managed to produce it so fast, since the recipes I’d seen for such things

always took hours.

Then I took my first bite. I paused to stare at the spoon.

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“How is it?” She asked nervously. Cerise rolled her eyes, but was too

busy wolfing down her own portion to comment.

“Well,” I said consideringly, “If my wizard gig ever falls through we can

always get you a job as some king’s personal chef.” I suddenly suspected this

was what she’d meant when she said she was a ‘hearth witch’, but there were

too many ears around us to ask about that now.

She giggled. “Oh, master, you’re such a flatterer.”

I might have replied, but I was too hungry for banter with a meal like this

waiting for me. By the time the three of us were done there was no need to

clean the bowls, because every particle of food was gone.

By then it was snowing lightly, and the wind had picked up a bit. The

girls retreated into the covered space of the wagon, re-packing their bags and

beginning to unroll the blankets we’d brought along to serve as bedrolls.

I was bone tired, and most of me wanted nothing more than to crawl into

the wagon and go to sleep. But events were moving too fast for that.

“I’ve got a few things to take care of before bed,” I told them. “I’ll be

along in a bit, but don’t bother waiting up for me.”

“Seriously?” Cerise gave me a surprised look. “I’m about to pass out, and

I haven’t done anything today compared to you.”

Avilla cuddled up behind her, and slipped a hand under her blouse with a

giggle. “Aw, is my poor little kitten all wilted? Maybe I can perk you up.”

Cerise squeaked in surprise, but made no effort to get away. I chuckled,

and resolved to give the young lovers some time to themselves.

“I’m sure you’ll manage, Avilla. Give her a few licks for me while you’re

at it.”

“Hey!”

I left Cerise blushing and stammering in Avilla’s arms, and went off to

find a spot to work. Sorcery didn’t seem to require much in the way of

materials or rituals, but I still didn’t want anyone getting too good a look at

what I was about to attempt. Not to mention that being interrupted might not be

entirely safe.

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Fortunately the majority of the camp was already bedding down for the

night, leaving just a few guards up and about. I suppose peasants would be

used to going to bed with the sun in a place like this, and there wasn’t much to

do in the dark anyway. I saw a few couples sharing blankets here and there,

their activities studiously ignored by their neighbors.

It was cold, but my cloak was as warm as an electric blanket. With the

hood up I wasn’t especially recognizable either, and no one bothered me as I

made a slow circuit of the camp. I sorted out the details in my head, digging

through the instinctive skills that had been dumped into my mind looking for

any options that I’d missed. There was some interesting stuff there, but most of

it either wasn’t relevant or would take far too much time.

Finally I settled myself against a wagon wheel, and turned my new senses

inward.

So far I’d been using my flesh element entirely for healing, and I started

out by continuing that trend. The trickle of power from my amulet was far

larger than the energy output of a human body, and it took only a few minutes to

wash away most of the physical fatigue left by the long day’s exertions. The

mental fatigue was another matter, but I’d be able to sleep soon enough.

Once that was done I dug deeper, reaching for the flesh-element analogue

of the shaping ability I’d already applied to stone.

Living tissue can’t just be sculpted like clay, of course. There are

millions of little details that have to be carefully managed through any change

in physical form, from the placement of nerves and blood vessels to the

alignment of muscle fibers and attachment points of tendons. Not to mention the

delicate complexity of the matrix of individual cells, which can’t just be

stretched or compressed much without killing them.

As a result shaping flesh was a slow process, more a matter of coaxing

the body to grow in the desired manner while augmenting its natural abilities

with magic. I could see that the subject’s genetics still played an important role

in the process, although my own will could exert considerable influence. It

was also a very energy-intensive process, and my little power tap would be a

real limiting factor if I ever tried something ambitious.

Fortunately, tonight I was just after one of the easier transformations. A

career as a desk jockey had left me in poor shape for marching in snow or

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fighting off monsters, and I could imagine dozens of ways that lack could get

me or the girls killed. We’d been lucky so far, but I couldn’t count on that to

continue. So my first attempt at a physical transformation was a shaping to

make myself stronger.

The shaping mimicked the effects of actual exercise, only a few thousand