The Frostwoven Crown (Book 4) (38 page)

The sergeant on duty looked over Captain Fitch's note and grinned. He looked up at Garrett and chuckled, "The temple sends us a gift. We must remember to give thanks in our prayers."

The other Templars laughed as well.

"I'll go tell the Captain," the sergeant said, and then he nodded toward one of the men, "Peach, you get him geared up. We start rounds in an hour."

A gangly young Templar with a wispy beard shoved himself away from the wall he was leaning against and swaggered toward Garrett with an expression of board contempt.

"Come on," Peach said, gesturing for Garrett to follow him through the door of the station house.

Inside, the ancient stone building reeked of hazy pipe smoke and sweat. Peach and Garrett flattened themselves against the wall as two older Templars pushed past through the narrow hallway seeming to take no notice of them.

"The big one's called Hawk," Peach whispered, pointing toward the broad back of one of the men who had just passed, "Don't get on his bad side. The other one is Snuff... he's got a mean sense of humor, so, if you're afraid of spiders or something, don't let him find out."

"Thanks," Garrett said.

Peach scoffed at him. "What'd you do to get sent down here?" he asked.

Garrett paused a moment before speaking. "I... I made one of the Matrons mad at me," he said.

"That'll do it," Peach laughed.

"My name's Garrett, by the way," Garrett said.

Peach shook his head. "I ain't even gonna try to remember it," he laughed, "First night out, your name is
Grub
. After that, your name is whatever the duty officer says it is. You don't get a real name until you served a year, and then the other long-timers pick it for you."

"So your name isn't really Peach then?" Garrett asked.

Peach rubbed the thin whiskers of his chin and laughed. "You just now figure that out?"

Garrett followed the young man into a low-ceilinged room with rows of weapons and armor hung upon racks along the walls.

Peach snatched up a weathered wooden crate from a stack in the corner and handed it to Garrett. "Strip down to your pants and put the rest in that box," he said, "If you're lucky, it'll all be there when you get back... assumin' you survive your first night."

Garrett sat the box on a low bench and laid his shoulder bag inside. He felt a bit uncomfortable leaving the essence behind, and having left his knife at home. He took a deep breath, pushing his discomfort out of his mind, and tugged off his hood.

"Bowl me!" Peach exclaimed at the sight of Garrett's uncovered head.

Garrett ignored him as he pulled off his tabard and shirt as well.

"What the hell happened to you?" Peach asked.

"I got burned when I was a kid," Garrett said, "The Chadiri burned my whole town."

"What town?" Peach asked.

"Brenhaven."

"Really?" Peach said with a crooked smile, "I had an uncle there. You know a glue-maker named Karnes?"

Garrett shook his head. "I was just a kid then," he said.

Peach shrugged. "I only met him once, anyway," he said, "Family wasn't that close."

"I'm sorry," Garrett said.

"I guess there's not much left of it then," Peach said.

"No."

"Is it true the redbucks really got a dragon?" Peach asked, handing Garrett a thick, padded shirt.

"Yeah," Garrett said. He pulled on the padded shirt, his eyes stinging at the scent of it. From the looks of the stains it bore, it had never been washed.

"Is this supposed to protect me?" Garrett asked, trying to breathe through his mouth.

Peach laughed. "Nah," he said, "that's just the gambeson. A knife'll go right through it. It's just to protect your skin from the mail shirt, otherwise, the links would rub all the skin off your shoulders by the end of the night."

"Oh, thanks," Garrett said.

"Yeah, my first night, they sent me out without one as a joke," Peach chuckled, "Took a week for all my skin to grow back." He handed over a bundle of mail armor that unbalanced Garrett as he took it.

"It's heavy," Garrett said, pinching the mail between his fingers as he tried to find the bottom opening of the shirt.

"You get used to it," Peach said.

Garrett pulled on the mail shirt with some help from Peach. At least the iron tang of the links managed to overpower the sweaty smell of the gambeson beneath. The armor hung, heavy on Garrett's shoulders. He was starting to wonder how long he would be able to bear the weight.

Peach fetched a fresh doublet and helped Garrett don it over his armor. The white worm sigil of Mauravant twisted across his breast from shoulder to hip.

Peach then helped him tighten a broad leather belt with a number of cord loops hanging from it around his waist. Peach cinched it tight and buckled it closed.

"It helps to hold up the weight of the mail," he explained to Garrett.

"Yeah, I can feel it," Garrett said, grateful to have some of the load taken off his shoulders. "What are all these for?" he asked, fingering the loops of cords that hung from his belt.

"Holdin’ stuff," Peach said, "You'll only really need this one tonight." He tugged at a thick leather loop on Garrett's right hip. "You're right-handed, right?"

"Yeah."

Peach went and fetched a copper-headed cudgel from a rack, tossing it to Garrett.

Garrett caught it, feeling the weight of it. It was heavier than the sparring rods he had used in practice. He shuddered to think of what it could do if he swung it full-force at someone's head.

"Keep that on your belt, and make sure it stays there," Peach said, "You don't pull it out 'till you see us pull ours out. Then... you'd better be ready to swing it."

Garrett nodded, and he slipped the cudgel into the belt loop, handle down and suspended by the cord around its spherical copper head.

"You good with those boots?" Peach asked, indicating Garrett's footwear.

"Yeah, can I keep these on?" Garrett asked.

"The Captain lets us wear what we want, since the standard issue boots are so awful," Peach said, "Ain't like the Matrons ever come down here to check."

"Oh," Garrett said, "thanks."

"Just need a helmet then," Peach said, surveying a rack of helmets along the wall.

"This him then?" spoke an unfamiliar man as he strode into the armory.

"Yes, Captain," Peach answered, stiffening slightly as he turned to face the man.

Garrett stiffened as well, his eyes on the tall, gray-haired man that was eyeing him critically.

"I'm Captain Gaulve," the man said, "Just call me
Captain
and do everything I say without question or hesitation, and we'll get along fine. Test my patience, and you'll wish you hadn't."

"Yes, sir... Captain," Garrett said.

Captain Gaulve
harrumphed
. "This is our new berserker?" he mused, "You don't exactly look the part."

Garrett said nothing.

"We'll see the proof soon enough," Gaulve laughed, "We're goin' into Shadetree tonight."

Peach groaned.

"Let's get him sworn in," Gaulve sighed, "Peach, you witness."

"Yes, Captain," Peach said.

The Captain stood directly in front of Garrett, looking down at him with his eyes narrow. "Give me your right hand," he demanded.

Garrett held out his hand, and the Captain seized it, pulling a knife from his belt.

Garrett cringed, wincing in pain as the Captain dug a shallow trench in the heel of Garrett's right palm. Blood oozed from the wound and the Captain turned the flat of his knife blade to coat the steel in Garrett's blood.

"Stick your tongue out," Gaulve said to Garrett.

Garrett paled, hesitating.

"I'm not going to cut it off!" Captain Gaulve laughed.

Garrett stuck his tongue out.

Gaulve smeared his bloody knife clean on Garrett's tongue.

Garrett scowled at the taste of his own blood.

"Now raise your right hand," Captain Gaulve said, "and say what I say."

Garrett did as he commanded.

"I swear my soul to the service of the Eternal Mother," Gaulve said, and Garrett repeated the line.

"I will defend Her city with my life and honor, and, if She demands it, give my life in that service."

Garrett said the same.

"Good… You’re a Templar now,” Gaulve said, “Don’t forget it.”

“Yes, sir,” Garrett said, swallowing away the last taste of blood in his mouth.

“Peach, see to his hand and get him a helmet,” Gaulve said, already halfway out the door, “Like I said, we’re going into Shadetree tonight, so spread the news and get anybody still sober together.”

“Yes, Captain,” Peach said.

Captain Gaulve disappeared through the door, and Peach turned back to Garrett with a sigh. “Shadetree…” he said.

“What’s Shadetree?” Garrett asked.

“It’s the tent town just outside the wall,” Peach said, breaking out a first aid kit from a nearby cabinet, “Not our problem, most of the time, since they’re outside the walls, they’re not really part of the city. A lot of thieves and swindlers live there, and we leave ‘em alone, unless they steal from the wrong person… then we gotta go down there and remind ‘em of their place.”

“Is it dangerous?” Garrett asked, holding his bleeding hand out for Peach to tend.

“Yeah,” Peach laughed, “we usually get one or two of our guys cut up every time we go in there, so we make a point of making them not want to see us again whenever we have to. I guess they got greedy and forgot about our last visit.”

“When was that?” Garrett asked, wincing a little as Peach wrapped the bandage tightly around the wound in his hand.

“About six months ago,” Peach said, “Some of the Shadetree boys hit a Cashuunite jewel merchant in the Upper City… We got most of the rubies back, but we lost three guys in doing it. I don’t know how many of the Shadetree boys we ghosted, but they were burning death fires out there for three nights after we went in.”

“You killed them?” Garrett asked.

Peach laughed again. “You don’t go into Shadetree lookin’ to
arrest
people!” he said, “You do what you hafta do, and you get out… if you’re lucky.”

Garrett felt a bit sick.

“Look, I don’t know what they’re teachin’ you boys up at the temple these days, but this is how things are out in the real world,” Peach said.

Garrett said nothing.

“Hey, it’s all right,” Peach said, patting him on the shoulder, “You just showed up on the wrong day, that’s all. Most days are a lot less exciting, trust me. You survive tonight, and I promise you, tomorrow, you’ll be inspecting cabbage crates and chasin’ pickpockets.”

“I don’t think I can kill someone,” Garrett said.

Peach shrugged. “You know how to swing that stick, don’t you? They still teach you that much at least, don’t they?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s all you need to know,” Peach said, “Some conner comes at you with a blade, you lay ‘im out with some copper to the brainpan. Maybe he gets up again, maybe he don’t… not your problem, so long as his blade don’t lay you out, understand?”

Garrett nodded.

“All right then,” Peach said, putting away the aid kit, “I’m gonna do you a favor.”

“Huh?” Garrett said.

Peach walked over to the helmet rack again and selected a heavy, visored helm, unlike the lightweight, open-faced one that Peach and most of the other Templars outside were wearing. He smiled as he pulled it from its peg and brought it back to place on Garrett’s head.

“Now they’re gonna make fun of you for wearin’ this,” Peach said, “but, it’ll cover up all them burn marks, and at least you’ve got a chance of makin’ through your first year without bein’ called
Porkrind
or somethin’ like that.”

“Thanks,” Garrett said as Peach settled the musty helm down onto Garrett’s head and tightened the chinstrap.

“I was lucky to get
Peach
,” the young Templar said, “Another guy that came in from the same class as me got named
Puddles
after his first visit to Shadetree. I suggest you don’t drink a lot before we go in tonight. Poor Puddles…”

“What happened to him?” Garrett asked.

“A few months ago, we went in to bust up a bunch of smugglers that were comin’ in through the spillway. They had a goatman warlock with ‘em, and Puddles caught a hex in the face. By the time we got him to the Sisters, most of his skin had already sprouted feathers and scales… We never found out what happened to him, and I’m just as glad not to know.”

Peach snapped the visor down over Garrett’s face. “Can you see all right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Garrett said, surprised at how little the visor interfered with his field of vision. His breath rasped loudly against the metal mask.