Ilbei Spadebreaker and the Harpy's Wild (7 page)

By the time he’d learned everything he could from the two miners he was speaking to, from the tavern keeper, and from another man who entered as Ilbei was about to leave, Ilbei had a general notion of what they were up against in terms of the highway robberies. A quick glance to the ruffs table as he was leaving, however, showed that those poor miners hadn’t had a clue what they were up against playing with the young nobleman. Rich as he was, polished as he was, decked in the finest clothing and weaponry as he was, there the man sat anyway, raking in and heaping the grubby copper coins of the men before him, hand after hand and grinning all the while like some petty miser selling candies to kiddies at a carnival. It was one of the most curious sights Ilbei had ever seen.

Chapter 6

T
he following morning, shortly after the golden sun began backlighting the treetops to the east, Ilbei went to the major’s tent. He was intent on procuring permission to take some men to the other two mining camps, Fall Pools and Camp Chaparral, and he was careful to conceal his irritation at having to seek that permission as he called through the canvas flap. “Major, sar. May I have a word, sar?”

“If you must, Sergeant,” came the reply. “Enter.”

Ilbei stooped and went in, and didn’t quite check the rise of his bushy gray brows upon observing the musical Decia, sleeping soundly in the major’s bed. Her sandy brown tresses webbed his pillow, and her face was turned away, pressed awkwardly against the tent, though she remained oblivious. The canvas glowed like an old lampshade as sunlight filtered through, casting her features in soft light. Ilbei witnessed her lying there, one bare arm flung out as if she’d been reaching for the major as he rose. Ilbei noted it silently, then glanced back to wait for the major to finish pulling his trousers on.

The major saw his expression and seemed amused. “It’s been awhile then, Sergeant?”

Ilbei spent a moment catching his meaning, then shook his head. “No, sar. It hasn’t. Though I make a point of not engagin with the troops. Her Majesty’s strict policies and all.” He made a point of keeping his tone level as he said it.

“Well, I trust a man of your experience has long since learned how that all plays out in a vertical structure such as we have in the Queen’s army.” There was no malice in the man’s voice, but there was a threat in it all the same.

“Yes, sar.” Ilbei turned so that only the major was in his field of view, out of respect for the young soldier still lying there in her indispose.

“So get on with it then, Spadebreaker. What is it that brings you in before breakfast?”

“Breakfast is bein kept warm fer ya, sar,” he said. “But I come to request yer nod fer me and a few of the men to check the other two camps fer news of Ergo the Skewer, sar. Wouldn’t have bothered ya fer such a thing, but with yer bein here, seems proper I clear it afore I get to the work the general hisself gave us to do.”

“Are you a gambler, Sergeant?”

Something of a mudslide began upon Ilbei’s brow. “Sar?”

“With cards. Have you any experience at cards?”

“I reckon I can hold my own against most, sar. Cards and dice the same. Can’t hardly go ninety-some years in Her Majesty’s army without pickin up a thing or two, much less an upbringin in lands not so different as all of this.” He tilted his head toward the tent wall to indicate where they were upon the world.

“Yes, I’d heard that about you. They went to a good deal of trouble to gather you and that emaciated excuse for a magician you have.”

Ilbei was enough of a card player to keep his expression blank. He waited for the major to make whatever his point would be.

“I’d like to get a game going with the boys when you get back.”

“A game, sar?”

“Of course a game. You’ve been standing here for the last fifteen seconds, surely you aren’t so old that you can’t remember what we are talking about.”

Ilbei cocked an eyebrow at the remark, but kept his mouth shut.

“Can you get to both camps and be back by nightfall?”

“I don’t expect so, sar. If’n ya check the maps, you’ll see Camp Chaparral is near eight measures as the ravens fly, west-northwest, back down into the foothills some. Fall Pools is closer, only four measures upriver, but steep the last to make it slow.”

“Then I’ll go to Fall Pools myself. I’ll take Decia and her sister with me. You can take whom you will so long as you leave enough behind to secure the camp.”

“Sar, all due respect, word last night says there’s eight men at least what’s jumped the roads. Might be best if’n ya take a few more along. Corporal Trapfast is a fine sword and a keen shot, and we got more than a few sharp archers like him in the company. There’s plenty to guard the camp and make a decent company fer yerself goin up Softwater.”

“I appreciate your concern, Sergeant,” the major said as he buttoned up his coat. “But what I can’t parlay out of, I can whip handily enough. And ….” He paused and looked down at the woman lying beneath his blankets. He grinned. “I happen to know she can handle herself perfectly well in a fight, if the vigor of her affection is any evidence. So she with her sister, both hearty farm girls as I understand, ought to be enough force to handle business in the company of my sword.”

“Well, I’m sure they are, sar, but fer the sake of showin more force than ya need, perhaps consider takin the corporal at least. If’n ya got some beef with him, then take one of my regulars, Meggins or that big feller Kaige.”

“Spadebreaker, that’s enough. If I need more of your opinion, I’ll whistle for it. We’ve had this conversation before. So get your people going. You’ve got a long march through rough territory, and I want you back within an hour after sunset.”

“Yes, sar.”

“And your man, Meggins. He’s got a touch of the weasel in him. I can see it in his eyes. Does he, by any chance, possess any spirit for sport?”

“Aye, sar. Meggins can hold his own at cards, so long as he goes easy on the wine. Learned that fact just two nights back.”

“Good. Inform him that he is also invited to our game.”

Ilbei’s lips squirmed like hostages caught in the trap of his tatty gray mustache. He knew he ought to stay still, but what he had to say needed an escape, so he set the words free. “Sar, it ain’t right to take their pay at cards. The men, I mean. Fine enough if’n I play with ya, but the boys, well, they ain’t got their minds trained up the way high folks such as yerself do. And even them what Mercy gave the gift of natural wit is inclined to mistakes when come to sittin across from a nobleman. It’s bad fer morale, sar.”

“You act as if they are incapable of beating me. And besides, I’m more than fair about that sort of thing. You were there last night.”

“Aye, sar. I seen ya there. But, if’n I may inquire, so which of them fellers took that gold crown home with him?”

“I did.” He said it simply and matter of fact, as if it were obvious and quite out of keeping with the point he’d been trying to make. Ilbei, of course, noticed and commented in kind.

“Right, sar. That’s the nugget I’m tryin to dig out, sar.”

The major turned away and began combing his hair, using a silver comb produced from a pocket inside his coat. “Bring Meggers to the game, Spadebreaker. And don’t be late.”

“It’s
Meggins
, sar.”

“Meggins, then. Off with you now. I need to prepare for my trip up the hill.”

Ilbei started to say something but realized he didn’t know exactly what he wanted to say or how he wanted to say it, so he shut his mouth again. He glanced down at Decia and prevented himself from shaking his head. It wasn’t right for a major to bed down with enlisted folk, much less game with them at cards, taking the pittance they earned for the hardships they endured. He didn’t expect the major brought the lass in here with an eye for making her the lady of the manor one day—and quite despite whatever enthusiasm she might have had for the roll. Ilbei realized he was lingering, so he left.

Not long after, he was leading his men through the narrow trails, up and down hills that were steep and arduous. While the journey was only a matter of eight measures, and technically downhill, it was rough going all the way. By the time they were within a measure of Camp Chaparral, they knew precisely how the camp had gotten its name, and Ilbei’s voice was hoarse for the steady stream of profanity that had poured from his mouth like summer snowmelt. Some of the oaths he swore were so colorful they set Kaige and Meggins into fits of laughter, which in turn brought forth more profanity.

Adding to the wear and tear of the journey, Ilbei found that by the last measure of it, his shoulder had grown sore. It was worn from swinging a shortsword into the dense, woody brush, hacking out space through the endless scrub that clogged the winding deer trail the miners ironically called a road. Ilbei could certainly understand why the locals got so little news from the other camps if this was how traveling had to go, squeezing through, under and between manzanita limbs as thick as Ilbei’s wrists while dodging poison oak tangles and barbed berry brambles at every turn. The only redeeming features of the torturous terrain were the occasional wild apple trees, whose large, sour fruit had provided them with the occasional treat and, when squeezed, with liquid that hadn’t gone completely hot in the heat of the day. But even the lukewarm juice of a few sour apples was hardly enough to sustain him past noon, so when Meggins suggested Kaige “lend the old man a breather,” Ilbei was more than happy to oblige.

They stopped long enough for Ilbei to gulp down half a jug of water, hot as it was, and he dumped the other half over his head. “Forge of Anvilwrath, but it’s shapin up a hot one,” he said. “Heat’s drippin out of the desert like acid off a dragon’s jaw.” He picked up his kettle helm from the ground where he’d set it, touching its wide metal brim gingerly. It would have raised a blister had he left his finger on it. “No use fer heat like this,” he grumbled. “None at all.”

“It will be better when we get to …,” Meggins rolled out the map he carried for them and glanced at it briefly before finishing, “… Harpy Creek. Shouldn’t be a whole lot more.”

Kaige’s eyes went wide at that, and he tilted his face upward and scanned the skies through the gaps in the trees, of which there were plenty, being that they had come down nearly a thousand feet as they traveled. Most of the pines had given way to scraggly oaks that were half-strangled by the heat of the sun most of the year, living mainly on the memory of sparse winter and springtime rains and gleaning whatever moisture was squeezed up from the depths by the weight of the mountains sitting so heavily upon the land higher up. Kaige’s head moved back and forth as he warily tried to sight through and around the sporadic growth.

“Why do you suppose they named it that?” Jasper asked.

Ilbei shook his head, blinking water out of his eyes. “Named
what
what?”

“The creek. Why would they name it that?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Ilbei said. “You know the minin sorts well as I do. They don’t reach too far fer highbrow ideas when it comes to namin things. We’re standin on Deer Trail Road, fer Hestra’s sake. There’s damned straight more
deer trail
to it than
road
.”

“Precisely as I feared,” the young mage said. “Such nomenclature suggests a similar justification behind the name of a creek designated
Harpy
Creek.”

That was when Ilbei realized that Kaige was still scanning the skies, nervous as a priestess in a prison camp. He looked back at Jasper. “What’s yer point, son?”

“If the creek is named for them, then there will likely be harpies somewhere in the vicinity.”

Ilbei glanced skyward, thought about what he’d heard, which was nothing on the matter, then shook his head. “Weren’t likely to be no harpies this close to human settlements. Folks’d have run em off long ago. No reason fer em to come down this far with humans about.”

“Well,” said Jasper. “They do tend to follow roosting patterns, and they have great range. If there’s a harpy wild within a hundred measures, they might come around.”

“There ain’t no harpy wilds around here. There ain’t one on the map, and this here is a brand new-made map what weren’t like to ignore a thing like that. So ya can all just quit with the harpy whinin. It’s a damned creek what got a name off some story someone heard or some shape some miner’s kid saw in the clouds.”

“I don’t want to be dinner for no damn harpy,” Kaige said. “We should have brought the rest of them bowmen out here with us.”

“Oh fer dungeon’s sake, lad. You’re too damn thick to carry off,” Ilbei said. “And they got to get
to
ya first, so ya can just carve em with that giant sword ya got there on yer back. Quit actin the helpless child, and quit yankin yer head out of joint fer fearin skyward.” He turned on Jasper and set his shoulders squarely. “And you. Don’t be throwin oil on my haystack, ya hear me, boy? There weren’t no harpies about, and if’n there were, they wouldn’t be meddlin with the likes of us.”

“It’s the diseases that are the most troubling,” Jasper said. “Carving them up is not the problem. I don’t have scrolls for the specific diseases borne upon harpy spit or excrement, not if it gets set in. I could possibly prevent one, and I’m being optimistic here, but I don’t think I could cure it if it took hold. That could be very bad.”