The Sampler Platter: A Little Bit of Everything

by Susan Skylark

  Chapter 13

  Not everyone was pleased with this change in behavior. There were those factions within the Order that benefited from the chaos and violence perpetuated in the field. These individuals saw Karly’s interference as a nuisance and hoped to quietly dispose of Tristan. With Tristan out of the way, Karly’s hands would be neatly tied, and perhaps he would cease being a problem before more drastic measures were needed. Getting rid of the colonel would be the most expedient way to eliminate the problem, but that might raise questions certain persons would rather not have asked. They waited their chance to dispense with Tristan, and that chance soon came. Tristan was again assigned to track down and reprimand a renegade unit, this one was stationed in a city on the border of the western mountains.

  Westhope was a city with no attachment to any particular nation or ruler. It existed primarily as an outpost of civilization and a stopping point along the trade route from Westria to the east. The land was rolling grassland and the primary occupation was grazing sheep or cattle; there was also a good deal of mining in that part of the world. Westhope provided supplies and services to the merchants, shepherds, and miners that moved about the western wilderness. The outpost to which Tristan was sent consisted of ten knights of the Order who were demanding tribute from the nearby city in exchange for ‘protection’ from themselves. Fearing this nut would be hard to crack, Tristan rounded up seven reliable men from the Citadel and headed West. The Order had a small fortress just outside the city in which the men were stationed. They rode west and arrived at Westhope without incident. Tristan had his men change to plain clothes and arrive quietly throughout the day in groups of two or three at a large inn on the edge of the city; there they were to wait for Tristan and Brenner to arrive. Tristan and Brenner spent the better part of the day wandering the streets of Westhope, talking to the locals, and observing the fortress from a safe distance. It would be foolish to demand entrance with so small a force; they would close the gate and either laugh at them or have the archers try their luck. It would be just as silly to try scaling the walls by night. It was not the most well-defended fortress that Tristan had seen but its defenses were good enough to rout his small army.

  The men came to town in groups of five while five were left to mind the fort. Tristan thought about nabbing the five as they went abroad, but figured the rest would just hole up inside the fortress and leave their comrades to their doom. He had to figure out a way to get into the fortress himself or get all of them to come out. This was going to require some thought. That evening, they sat quietly in the common room in a group of three and a group of five. Brenner talked with their fellow tablemate while Tristan brooded over the fortress and what to do about it. The other five talked quietly amongst themselves. Tristan’s thoughts were interrupted when some cheering, whistling, and foot stomping broke out among some of the other patrons; someone was going to play or sing for the gathered crowd. The woman played some sort of stringed instrument (music was never Tristan’s strong point) and sang a beautiful but sad song about a kingdom that had disappeared long ago. This was not the usual sort of raucous singing one heard in a common room; it was something closer to what one heard from the bards and minstrels who frequented the courts of the rich and powerful. Most songs one heard in such a place were about food, drink, women, war, or traveling, one rarely heard historical fact put to music. He took a second, closer look at the woman and chided himself for not paying more attention. He should have known. Who else but one of the Brethren would sing an historical ballad in a common room full of peasants? Some of the Teaching sect preferred music to lectures, and there were a number of very talented bards among them. The woman finished her song and began another; the audience was bewitched by her voice. If one had to learn history this was a rather nice way to go about it. Even his men seemed to be enjoying the lesson, or perhaps they just enjoyed looking at the singer, for she was quite striking. She sang most of the evening about love lost and found, wars won and kingdoms lost, the struggles of humanity, and stories of the Master. It was a very lovely way to spend the night. She retired to her room and did not mingle much with her appreciative audience. Tristan’s men seemed to start awake, as if out of a dream and he ordered them to bed with a smile.

  They spent the next day questioning townspeople about the Order, the fortress, and the surrounding area. The locals held the Order in much disfavor, especially since they started demanding tribute. When five of them emerged at a time, they descended on a local inn, demanded the best food, wine, and service, and never paid for anything. The younger women were soon hustled out of the room lest they attract unwanted attention. To the best of anyone’s knowledge, no one but the knights ever came in or out of the fortress except twice a month when the tribute wagons rolled in. Tristan also asked about the mysterious singer at their inn. People said she was quite popular as an entertainer and teacher even though she had just arrived a few days ago. She had requests from all the inns to come and sing of an evening. Whichever inn she visited never had an empty seat and few dry eyes. That afternoon, Tristan went over his plans with his men; they thought it a grand idea but it would be a few days before they could implement it. They came early to supper and took their accustomed places as the singer was to sing again that night and they knew the inn would rapidly fill up. They were not disappointed; the place was packed. Just as she was taking out her instrument to begin, the door was thrown open and in traipsed five of the seediest looking soldiers Tristan had ever seen. Their uniforms were wrinkled, their noses were red from constant consumption of alcohol, and every one of them had not shaved or bathed in at least a week. They tossed several men out of their chairs and took control of a table near the singer’s platform. She looked at them in disgust, but said nothing and began her song. The innkeeper quickly saw them provisioned with the best she had in the kitchen. They seemed contented, at least for the present.

  After they had eaten and drunk their fill, one yelled at the singer, “why all these slow, tedious songs. We want something rousing and exciting.”

  “Yeh,” yelled several equally drunk knights.

  She began a country-dance with a fast beat; they cheered and grabbed any female that was handy, pushed over tables, and shoved aside chairs and patrons alike, in an attempt to clear space for dancing. The poor women they kidnapped as partners screamed or wept in despair. The singer stopped the song immediately, “this reprehensible behavior will not be tolerated. Let those poor women go and resume your seats or there will be no more music tonight.”

  “Who is going to make us,” laughed the apparent leader of the group, “you are gonna sing and we are gonna dance with whoever we like. Now get up there and play sweetie.”

  She did not move. The men looked from her to their leader in confusion; nobody disobeyed the Order. Tristan smiled, she had nerve. The men dropped their unwilling partners and drew their swords. They made a semicircle around the stage. The audience backed up and some of them ran for it. This was going to be ugly.

  “Now love,” said the leader, “be reasonable. You sing and I will not kill you. I might even let the lads have a little fun with you afterwards.” The men smiled in anticipation. She did not flinch. She carefully set down her instrument and drew forth a long, slightly curved sword that had been hidden amongst the folds of her gown. Five on one was still very bad odds, but it beat five swords against none. “A feisty one boys!” laughed the leader, “come now lass, you are too pretty to hurt…yet.” She assumed a defensive stance and prepared to go down fighting. The men approached and the sound of steel leaving the sheath rang loud in the room. The five men looked about in confusion at the sound. Who would dare risk their wrath? Tristan and his men had their swords drawn and surrounded the confused knights. Some of the braver members of the audience also drew forth their weapons and added their numbers to the group.

  “Stand down,” Tristan ordered, “put away
your weapons and we will deal with this quietly. You need not be hurt.”

  “Who are you to command us?” sneered the leader.

  “Just know that I am authorized to do what I must to stop this despicable behavior,” said Tristan, “I also count fifteen swords to your five. Hopefully your swordsmanship is better than your counting skills.”

  The knights glanced around them at the superior numbers, dropped their swords, and put their hands on their heads. Tristan motioned for one of his men to pick up the dropped weapons while the others kept the knights covered. Once the weapons were retrieved and each man’s hands were secured behind his back, everyone put their swords away and a general cheer ran through the group. They had captured half of the renegade knights! It was not exactly the plan Tristan had hoped to implement, but it was necessary at the time and he could not go back now. He had been hoping to sneak in using the tribute wagons but he would have to come up with something else to capture the other five men. The prisoners were stuffed temporarily into a back closet while the common room was put back in order. “You have no right,” snapped the leader as he was shoved into the closet, “the Order will take care of you.”

  “I am sure they will,” laughed Tristan.

  “Have you enjoyed my singing?” asked the sweet voice of the bard as she approached Tristan.

  “Very much my lady,” said he, “there are few sounds I have enjoyed half so well.”

  “You mock me sir,” she teased.

  “Certainly I do not!” said Tristan, “and you should know I cannot.”

  She bowed in acquiescence and smiled at his sincerity. “I came to thank you,” said she, “for intervening. I could have handled two or perhaps three, but five would have overwhelmed me.”

  “If that is the case you must be as skilled with the sword as you are with your music,” said Tristan. He doubted he could handle more than that himself. She blushed at the compliment and they took a seat together at a newly replaced table.

  “You are far from Astoria,” said she.

  “The Lady seems to like me as far away from her as possable,” laughed Tristan, “she keeps sending me to the ends of the earth and when I have finished there she sends me to the other side.”

  “And these men with you?” she asked.

  He glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot, “they belong to the Order of the Unicorn.”

  She gasped and looked at him in surprise and said, “but why associate with such men?”

  He laughed, “it is a very long story and the Lady herself has bidden me hence. They are under my command and we are under orders to bring these vile dogs to heel. There are still five more locked away in the fortress and I am afraid when these five do not come home as expected the others will lock the door and never come out.”

  “Perhaps I can assist you,” she said. It was a crazy plan but it just might work.

  Five men walked their horses up to the gate of the fortress with a woman tied across one of the saddles. “Back a little late are we?” asked the sentry.

  “Had a bit of trouble at the inn,” said the leader, “but I brought back a nice little songbird to entertain us.”

  “You know the rules,” snapped the guard, “no prisoners.”

  “But she is not a prisoner, she is a guest,” laughed the leader. “Besides,” he continued, “we have broken enough rules, what is one more?”

  “All right,” growled the guard, “but it is your head and not mine if the Captain does not go for it.” He opened the gate and let the five men in. Tristan kept his sword point dug into the small of the leader’s back. He had agreed to cooperate once Tristan had identified himself and his mission. The man did not like it but he had little choice. The two men guarding the gate were quietly knocked unconscious and drug out of sight. Two of Tristan’s men took their place.

  The singer was untied, save for a loose rope around her hands to make it look as if she were bound; her sword was hidden beneath her cloak. They went in search of the captain. A guard on watch noticed the strangers walking unguarded through the keep and raised the alarm. Tristan fought him to a standstill and had him stand against a stone wall with the captured leader under the watchful eyes of the men guarding the gate. The remaining two men rushed out in their pajamas to defend the fortress only to find themselves outnumbered and their colleagues under guard. They surrendered and Tristan went about the tedious business of explaining who he was and why he had come. Tristan’s men brought the rest of the prisoners back from the inn. Tristan had the mayor and the chief watchman roused from their beds and brought to the fortress to discern what, if any crimes the captured men stood accused of. There had been much posturing and threatening, some theft, and unruly behavior but no one had yet aspired to rape or murder. Tristan left his seven men in charge of the fortress with Brenner in command along with the three youngest of the captured knights. The other seven were locked up until Tristan could figure out what to do with them, but first Tristan retired thankfully to bed.

  As he slept, he felt a pall of evil about him and started awake. The window was open and a cold wind blew into the room. There was no movement or sound, but he was still uneasy. Something was very wrong. His hand crept quietly under his pillow and grasped the dagger he kept there. He rolled over and pretended to sleep. For half an hour, nothing stirred but a stench of evil hung about the room. There came a quiet noise, as of feet moving ever closer, ever so slowly. Tristan readied the dagger. There was a sharp intake of breath and the sound of leaping feet as a dark shape lunged upon Tristan, blade drawn. There was a struggle but the intruder was not expecting trouble and tried to flee; Tristan’s blade flew true and caught the man in the leg; he tumbled to the ground with a scream, but before allowing himself to be captured, he thrust a dagger into his own heart and dissolved into an oily pool of goo. Tristan could only shake his head in bewilderment. Would he ever find out what was going on with this Brotherhood of the Serpent? At least he knew there was more behind the Order’s problems than a lack of competent leadership. There came a knock at the door and Tristan had to explain the noise to the innkeeper and all who had been awakened by the man’s screams.

  The next day saw the townspeople out in full force to greet the men who had rescued them from the renegade soldiers. Tristan asked and was granted that the remaining seven be allowed to herd sheep, sweep floors, wash dishes or whatever else the townsfolk deemed proper work for the renegades. The three youngest and least belligerent were pardoned if they promised to behave themselves under Brenner’s command. The other seven would sleep at night in the fortress dungeon and work wherever they were bidden during the day. They were always to be kept under guard until the townsfolk deemed them free of their tedious punishment or word was sent by the Order with further instructions. Tristan figured six months of tedium would do much for their insubordinate attitudes.

  Arora (the singer) was surprised and disappointed to hear Tristan would be heading back to Panmycea so soon. He would spend one more night at the inn, but must then head back to Panmycea for further orders. He sent word via pigeon to the Lady about the assassination attempt of the night before. “Why must you leave?” asked Arora that night over supper.

  “I have a duty to the Lady and the Order to figure out what is going on,” he said, “I am very sorry to be leaving; I have quite enjoyed your company.”

  “I will go with you,” she said.

  “What!?!” gasped Tristan, “do you not have a duty to the people here?”

  “I am free to come and go at will, unlike you I am not assigned to any particular area or mission,” she said, “I am sure that Panmycea could stand to hear a little encouraging music.”

  “I am sure it could,” said Tristan with a laugh, “but it is too dangerous.”

  “You would not say that to any of your men,” she said with a dangerous edge in her voice.

&nbs
p; “No,” admitted Tristan, “I would not, but I say it to you because I value your friendship and I would like to think of you safely away from me.”

  “Nonsense,” said she with a smile, “I am no safer without you than I am with you. The world has grown perilous in the last few years. Besides, you need someone to watch your back if one of these assassins should strike again. And why not keep an eye on me directly rather than wondering if I am well?” Short of tying her up, he could not stop her so he gave in to her demands, which made a remarkable amount of sense. And for once he looked forward to the journey back to Panmycea.