Kings of the North (65 page)

“It is a bad thing when a man formerly lawful falls into lawlessness through passion,” said the prince. “It creates imbalance. Tell me, how did this Siniava die?”

“Aliam Halveric cut off his head,” Selfer said.

“Without torment?”

“Yes.”

“And how was he captured? In battle?”

“No … trying to escape through the lines disguised as a woman.
One of our soldiers, Paksenarrion, was on guard, and spotted him. She’s now a paladin of Gird.”

“Paksenarrion! One of our people owes a debt to her; if you see her again, tell her to bring the ring, that the debt may be paid.” The prince tilted his head. “Or possibly the debt should be paid to the Girdish command, as she is now theirs.” He looked back at Andressat. “As for your news, Count Andressat, we had heard of unrest in the south. None spoke of invasion across the pass, or anything that threatened us directly. But you think this is possible?”

“Yes, lord prince. As I told Tsaia’s king, not this coming summer but later. The king assures me the other regalia are secure, but I believe this means Alured will come with force to take the crown, as soon as he has enough troops and control of the south.”

“Foreign mercenaries stopped Siniava—why not Alured?” The prince turned to Selfer.

“My lord prince, I lack the experience of senior captains, but the south is still recovering from the former war, and if Alured has already suborned some of the Guild League cities, such an alliance as faced Siniava may not be possible.”

“And yet you go south …”

“Under orders, lord prince. Nor do I know who might contract with us this coming year.”

“Well.” The prince turned to their guide and spoke a time in gnomish. Their guide bowed. He spoke again to them in Common. “It is that it was a good thing you brought this word of warning to me. Value was received; value will be given. If it please you, we will grant you and your companions swift travel to the pass, through our ways.”

Andressat was not sure what this meant, but Selfer answered for them. “It is most gracious, lord prince, and if it suits Count Andressat, I accept.”

“He rules you?”

“No, lord prince, but as I said, I am bound by my king’s orders to accompany him as far as Valdaire.”

“It is a boon rarely offered,” the prince said; he looked at Andressat.

“I—I accept,” Andressat said, hoping he was not making a mistake.

“Their companions have already made camp, lord prince,” their guide said.

“In the outer day, then,” the prince said. His companions on the dais picked up the throne—with him in it—and turned it around so he faced away from them.

“Come now,” their guide said, and led them back outside into the raw dank wind that penetrated even the thick woolen clothes Dorrin had given Andressat. He shivered. As before, he shared the young captain’s tent that night.

He woke at dawn; the camp was already astir, and Selfer gone from his pallet. Andressat hurried to ready himself for travel. All but the captain’s tent had been struck and packed; as soon as he was out, that, too, came down.

As before, Andressat was impressed by how fast and completely these soldiers cleaned up the campsite, pushing sod back into the tent-peg holes, covering over the jacks after the last had used it. Selfer, he saw, was asking the gnomes who had come out to lead them away how they wanted the fire-pit cleaned.

To his surprise, these gnomes—not the same as the day before—led them away from the arched entrance he’d used before, more westward, along a narrow trail where they could ride only single file. Half the gnomes led; the other half followed. Andressat followed Selfer, chewing on a strip of dried meat that served instead of the hot sib and porridge he’d had so often on this trip. The trail trended upward and west, into rougher country than the trade road. Andressat caught but one glimpse of it between the tall rocks that now hedged them in, a little curve of beaten earth on the slope far below.

Sometime after midmorning, a cleft in the rock opened before them. “We go here,” their guide said. “Big enough inside, but lead horses …”

Andressat shivered. The dark hole looked more like a natural cave, and he had no wish to spend days or weeks wandering in the dark. But Selfer had dismounted and followed their guides, and Andressat could not—in that narrow place, with the whole troop behind him—do anything else.

Once inside and around a knob of rock, he found himself on a smooth stone trail, here wide enough for three or four horses abreast, lit with a cool blue light. Here, as in the gnome prince’s hall, the stone had been skillfully carved from the arched ceiling three times the height of a man to the floor crossed by grooves that would give
purchase to the feet of horses or mules and also direct water off the trail. On this surface, they were now able to ride safely and quickly. The light was just enough to let them see the shape of the way ahead—sometimes curving, sometimes sloping a little uphill or down, but mostly straight and level. In that dimness, Andressat began to feel drowsy; his mind drifted to his own home, to the clear winter sunlight slanting across the vineyards, the long blue shadows. He did not think of the stops they must make to rest the horses, or food—the light never changed—he did not think of time.

“It is to dismount again,” one of the gnomes said briskly, with a firm tap on Andressat’s knee.

Andressat jerked awake—he felt mazed, stupid, as he swung a leg over and slid down to the stone. Ahead was a stone face with a gap much like the one they had entered. Outside was darkness.

Still dazed with sleep, Andressat followed Selfer and found they had come out on a slope that ran down before them. Mountains loomed behind them, black against a deep blue sky, lighter to the heart-side, eastward. A few stars still shone; the air was cold and smelled of snow, but gentler even so than the air of the north.

“That way—” Their guide said to Selfer. “—that way is the Valdaire road, down from the pass. The snow would have been deep there; here is only a little that will melt at sunrise.

“But—” Selfer sounded almost as dazed as Andressat felt. “But did we travel so far in just one day?”

“It was the prince’s gift: to take you the way that is not measured with paces or furlongs or leagues or any human measurement. It was but one day’s effort for you and your beasts, but without the prince’s gift … it would be many days. Four or five at least, though the way is straight enough, compared to the trade road.” A pause; Andressat was still trying to gather his scattered wits. “Not that any human will ever find it—or you remember it.”

Andressat tried to fight off the wave of sleepiness that came over him but when his mind cleared again, he knew only that they were on the southern side of the pass with the Vale of Valdaire before them, and familiar smells came to him on a southern wind. Though he tried, he could not remember exactly how many days he’d been on the road since Vérella; everything was clear until they met some gnomes …

He shivered, though the day had warmed with the sun. He’d never seen gnomes before this trip and hoped never to see them again. For that matter, he never wanted to see the north again: too cold, too wet, and full of people he didn’t know, not even counting the nonhumans.

When they reached Valdaire, Selfer saw him safe to a good inn, where his travel-worn clothing made his resumption of incognito as a merchant completely believable. “I could spare two men to travel with you to Andressat,” Selfer said.

“What would it cost?” Andressat said. Despite the hospitality of those with whom he’d stayed, his purse was flatter than when he set out, the journey having been so much longer.

Selfer shook his head. “Nothing, my lord. Your safety matters to us, and in this season, traveling alone is not safe. Merchants frequently hire guards when not with a guarded caravan.”

So it was that after a day’s rest in a comfortable inn, Andressat rode up to the Duke’s Company’s winter quarters, where he met with Selfer and Burek, the two captains in residence. He recognized Burek at once, but tried to pretend he’d never seen his bastard grandson before. Burek, for his part, accepted the incognito without comment, but Andressat knew he’d been recognized.

“You are in more danger than I knew,” Selfer said. “Our troops here have heard spies asking questions about anyone traveling alone or with a hired escort, other than merchants known to belong to one of the guilds. Someone—probably Alured—suspects that you are on the road, and it’s clear you’re being sought. Here’s our plan, the best we could devise. Captain Burek’s troops have been in the south this past campaign season and are more familiar with the current threats, besides being well rested. We think it better to use his for escort in this case. And he thinks you should have at least four; six would be better.”

All he wanted was to ride for home the quickest way, but he would not ignore professional advice. “Thank you,” he said. “But this is too large a gift—when I reach Cortes Andres, I must be allowed to provision all for the trip.”

“Of course,” Selfer said. “When would you like to leave?”

“As soon as possible. And should we travel the trade road, do you think, or cut across country?”

“How much would Alured like to capture you?”

Andressat’s blood chilled. “I fear he would like it very much, and the scroll I have with me even more.”

Burek looked at Selfer. “My troops are getting soft, sir, despite the exercises I put them to. I want them good and hard when Count Arcolin arrives. I think they need a good tramp on the road.”

Selfer grinned. “How far?”

“As far as the borders of Vonja. It would be as well to check on that situation, too.”

“I don’t want—” Andressat began, then shame stopped him. If his was not the true pure blood of Old Aare, how could he so resent this young man for being born a bastard? What did bastard mean, after all? “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sure you know best; it’s only that I made the trip away alone for the most part.”

“It is fortunate you chose to travel incognito,” Selfer said. “We think it would be a good idea if you continued—but in another disguise.”

A
ndressat had never expected to find himself in someone else’s uniform, riding in the midst of the troop like any common soldier, while someone wearing his clothes rode south with a small escort of apparent Golden Company soldiers. He objected at first, thinking it was perhaps Burek’s revenge for his own shabby treatment of him, but Burek explained with no hint of triumph.

“My lord, it is for your safety. If they have penetrated your disguise—if they have discovered that you are away from Cortes Andres—they will be watching for your return. You said yourself Alured wanted you and what you know; Alured has spies across Aarenis; he sent soldiers to your very doorstep.”

“But that other group—are they not at risk?”

“Not much,” Selfer said. “For one thing, they aren’t Golden Company—we borrowed the uniforms. For another, we know Czardas and that part of Foss Council very well: they will have a long, frustrating chase and no profit from it.”

Now Andressat jogged along with the Phelani cohort, listening to the gossip the troops passed among themselves. He heard about Sergeant
Stammel, who had been stricken blind by a demon and yet learned to shoot a crossbow and take up the legend of the Blind Archer. He heard about wagers made, won, and lost, and what the troops thought about the change of leadership of the Company.

“Arcolin’s fine,” one said to another. “He’s not the Duke, though. And it’s too bad we never got to say goodbye to Kieri and give him the cheer he deserves.”

“I could understand leaving the Company to stay with him,” another answered. “But to stay with Captain Dorrin? Selfer’s a fine captain; I wouldn’t have chosen Dorrin.”

“She was never your captain,” someone else said. “Suppose it was Arcolin going away—would you stay with—” The man nodded to the front of the column.

“I would, unless Arcolin asked me particular. Lad’s done well this past summer.”

A grunt came in answer and a warning glance. Andressat saw that “the lad” had reined aside to watch the troop ride past. When it had, he rode to the front again. He did sit a horse well, Andressat had to admit, and his troops liked him.

On the border of Vonja, camped near one of the caravansaries where a few merchant groups were staying, Burek told them he was splitting the group in two. Andressat did not like the campsite; he worried that a spy might overhear Burek. But, as a common soldier, he could say nothing.

“Half will go north, make a half-circle, and half will go south, to do the same. Rendezvous at Foss, in ten days. You will live on field rations, camp in the open.”

“But Captain, the Duke never had maneuvers like this in winter.”

“The Duke’s a king, and Arcolin’s commanding now. He deems it good practice after two years of sitting on your arses in the north that you get more knowledge of lands where we might be hired next year.”

“And I was just gettin’ to know that redhead at the Dragon,” said the man.

“The redhead!” That was another soldier, who punched the speaker in the shoulder. “It’s not hard to get to know her—but that sergeant of Golden Company, Tamis Hardhand, would have somethin’ to say about it.”