“Wait here a minute,” Tal said.
He circled around them for the better part of twenty minutes, then returned, and said, “The water is moving that way.” He pointed to the east.
“What does that mean?” asked Visniya.
“It means the river is that way,” said Tal. He headed off in the indicated direction.
They began hitting drier ground in an hour, and as sundown neared, they found the land rising ahead of them and to the right, and the bog draining off to the left, feeding what was clearly a wide but moving body of water.
“Let’s camp up there for the night,” said Tal, pointing to an elevation that should prove dry. “Then tomorrow we’ll follow this water and see where it leads us.”
They made a cold camp, without even any food, so it was a tired and unhappy band that awoke the next morning and set off. As Tal had predicted, the water became a stream, which ran quickly downhill. Two hours after they had started, they came over a rise and saw the river.
Tal studied the landscape. “I see no signs of anyone else being around here.”
“We’re too far east for patrols,” said Quint. “This is no-man’s country. The army doesn’t patrol because even the smugglers avoid it.”
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“Why?” asked Stolinko.
Quint said, “No one knows. Rumors. Bands of in-human monsters, or wild primitives who eat human flesh.” He saw the expressions on his companions’ faces and laughed. “Those are stories. There are some people living around here—the gods only know why they do—but mostly no one comes here because this land is worthless.” He pointed to the river. “Across the river is Bardac’s. There’s a pretty little coastline over there, and a thousand square miles of land even a pig farmer couldn’t use. Bogs worse than the one we just left, salt flats, pine barrens, marshes, who knows what else?
Everything in Bardac’s worth taking is within fifty miles of the coast. The only exception is the city of Qulak, which guards the pass leading into Aranor. You’ve got a road from Karesh’kaar to there and also from Bishop’s Point up north on the coast. One road from Karesh’kaar to Traitor’s Cove to Bishop’s Point. So there you have it, four cities, three roads, and about a hundred jumped-up bandit chieftains calling themselves Baron this and Count that.
“Whenever someone tried to build anything this side of the river, bandits from across the river came down and took it. That’s why everything worth talking about in Olasko is down south,” said Quint.
“So you think we’ll have no trouble getting across the river?” asked Tal.
“Oh, getting across may be the least of our problems,”
said Quint. He looked at his companions. “A band of seventeen men might have been enough to prevent us from getting jumped, but the first band of rogues or the first
‘noble’ we blunder into”—he shrugged—“they’ll cut our throats first, then discover we have nothing worth stealing. The bastards won’t even apologize afterward.”
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“Well, let’s stop talking about it and get down there,”
said Masterson.
Tal nodded. “Let’s go.”
They moved along the banks of the stream and discovered that the river was farther off than it looked. It was midday before they reached the banks just to the west of where the stream emptied into the river. Tal looked around. “Look at the color.”
“What about it?” asked Masterson.
“The stream must be dumping silt here. It’s shallow.
I’m going to try to cross.”
Tal waded into the water and found the river was running fast, but that it wasn’t too deep. He moved out until he was nearly a third of the way across, and the water was only up to midthigh. He stopped and looked, watching the currents, the swirls and eddies, then he waved for the others to follow.
The water deepened and suddenly fell off to a channel on the side opposite where the stream flowed in. He started to swim. The men were underfed and weak with exhaustion and lack of food, but he reckoned that if a one-armed man carrying a sword and spear could get across, so could they.
A few minutes after he had reached the far shore, Masterson came across, followed by the others.
Quint looked around. “My friends, welcome to Bardac’s Holdfast.”
“I’m glad that’s behind us,” Visniya muttered.
“Don’t be so happy,” Quint said. “It’s now that things get difficult.”
“What do we do?” asked Stolinko.
Tal looked at Quint and said, “I think we go north, find the road, then turn east for Karesh’kaar.”
“That would work if it wasn’t for the fact that every _______________
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bandit in the region uses that road. I think we find out where it is, then try to work our way west just in sight of it, but hopefully out of sight of anyone else. Any man not wearing the colors of a local noble is fair game for murder, robbery, slavers. There’s law up here, but it’s rough law, and it is usually a case of who has the most weapons.”
“Sounds like my kind of place,” declared Masterson, hefting his ax.
Dryly Stolinko said, “At least one of us is happy.”
“Well, the day’s not getting any longer,” said Tal, and he started hiking up the riverbank, heading north.
__
“Man, I’m going to go mad smelling that,” said Masterson. The smell of cooking carried toward them on the breeze.
“Keep your voice down,” whispered Tal.
They lay on their stomachs along a ridge as the sun set, overlooking the road leading to Karesh’kaar. Camped below was what appeared to be a slave caravan. About thirty young men and women were chained in a coffle and strung out along the side of the road, their chains secured at either end to a wagon. Six guards were posted, three at each wagon, along with a driver who tended the horses.
“What do you think’s in those wagons?” asked Visniya.
Tal whispered, “Supplies, I’m guessing.” He turned to Quint. “Where are the slaves from?”
“Who knows? If they’re coming down from the mountains, they may be from a border raid into Aranor.
Or they could be some poor bastards taken in a raid from one ‘noble’s’ property by another ‘noble.’ The way things work up here, if you’re more than a day’s ride from your _______________
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ruler’s castle, you’re fair game.” He pointed to the wagon in the front. “See that banner? Holmalee, a count of sorts, with a pretty big army. He’s local to this area.
That’s why there’s only six guards, instead of sixty. This close to Holmalee’s castle, no one is going to muck about with his caravan.”
“What are we going to do?” asked Stolinko.
Tal looked at his four companions. They were on the verge of collapse. Quint judged them to be a day or two more from the city of Karesh’kaar, but Tal doubted they could make it through another half day without something to eat. It was three days since they had last eaten, and that had been nothing more than berries. It was five days since they had finished the last of the food they had carried with them.
Tal said, “We wait until dark. Then we slip down and kill the guards.”
Masterson said, “Wonderful.”
Visniya said, “I don’t know if I can fight.”
Tal said, “Don’t worry. I’ll take out one sentry, and if they have a second, Quint will take him out. If we don’t alarm the slaves, we should be able to finish them off before they are awake.”
He started moving down the incline, motioning for the others to follow. At the bottom of the rise, he led them into a stand of trees. “We hide here just in case one of the guards is the fastidious type and comes over the rise to take a piss.”
They settled in and waited for n
ight to fall.
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Tal crept down the hillside. The sentry was sitting with his back against a wagon wheel, his head nodding as his _______________
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chin touched his chest. The two other guards were sleeping near the fire. The slaves were all asleep on the ground, and at the other end of the coffle another guard sat by the other wagon. His two companions appeared to be fast asleep.
Quint was moving parallel to Tal, his task being to kill the sentry farthest from where they had come over the rise. The other three men would come out of the trees at the first hint of trouble.
Tal reached a point near his man, who suddenly started awake, perhaps sensing someone’s approach. Tal slashed the man’s throat before he could cry out, and his hands went up, a fountain of blood spurting through his fingers as he struggled in vain to hold back the blood.
Then his eyes went glassy, and he fell over.
Tal quickly killed the two sleeping men.
Quint’s guard died silently, but one of the sleeping men awoke, crying out in alarm. Suddenly the slaves were awake, yelling, crying, and screaming, imagining that whatever new horror was about in the night would mean more suffering for them.
Masterson and the others came running out of the copse and quickly overpowered the guards and suddenly only Tal’s men and the slaves were alive. No one hesitated.
There was still food by the fire, and all five men fell to ravenously.
Tal stood with a half-eaten chicken in his hand and saw several of the slaves were pulling on their chain, as if to rip it from the metal eyelet that fastened it to the wagon. “Stop it!” shouted Tal in the Opardum dialect of Roldemish. “If you want to live, stop it.”
The slaves stopped. Tal chewed and swallowed, convinced he had never tasted chicken this good in his life.
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twenty young women, none older than perhaps twenty years of age. All were very pretty. The men were all young as well, healthy and broad-shouldered; for slaves they appeared to be surprisingly well fed and fit.
Quint came over, chewing some bread dripping with butter and honey. “Who are you?” he asked a young man standing next to Tal.
“My name is Jessie.”
“Aranor?”
“Yes. The village of Talabria.”
“You all from Aranor?”
“No,” said one young woman. “I am from a village near Qulak. My father sold me to pay taxes.”
Quint looked at several more slaves, then laughed.
“All heading for brothels, girls and boys alike.”
“How do you know?” asked Tal.
“Look at them. Clean them up, dress them, oil their hair, and rich merchants from Kesh will pay their weight in gold.” He paused, then said to the nearest girl, “Did any of these men have their way with you?”
She lowered her eyes, and Tal was struck by how lovely she was. “No, sir. The guards left us all alone.”
Quint said, “That settles it. I’ll bet most of these girls are virgins, and any guard touching them would get his head taken from his shoulders by their master.” He shouted, “Do you know who owns you?”
One of the young men cried, “No man owns me!”
Quint’s grin spread. He walked over to the boy, who was no more than seventeen or eighteen, and slapped him on the shoulder. “Bravely said, lad.” Then he ran his hand down the boy’s face and across his shoulders. “And some rich Keshian wine trader will pay dearly to see that skin left unblemished. Otherwise, they’d have beaten any hint of defiance out of you.”
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A girl said, “These men worked for Count Holmalee.
He is selling us to a slaver in the city named Janoski. I heard the guards talking.”
Tal ate enough to kill most of the hunger pangs in his stomach and then said, “Let’s see what’s in the wagons.”
As he had suspected, there were supplies for the slaves, including a cage full of live chickens.
Quint inspected the other wagons. “We got lucky,” he declared.
“How?”
“Count Holmalee and trader Janoski wanted this lot pretty for the auction block in Karesh’kaar. There’s enough food here for three times the slaves. Each of these will bring four, five times as much on the block as the av-erage house servant or field hand.” He rubbed his chin.
“So, what do you propose to do with them?”
Tal grinned. “Free them. I told you, I’m starting an army.” To the others he yelled, “Find the key on those guards, and turn this bunch loose.”
The slaves started talking excitedly among themselves. One girl shrieked, and Tal saw that Masterson was trying to paw her. “Masterson!” Tal shouted. “Keep your hands to yourself. If she doesn’t turn you into a eunuch, I will.”
“She’s a slave! And a damn pleasure slave, for that matter.”
“No she’s not,” said Tal. “She’s free.”
At that, the slaves all started talking at the same time.
Tal shouted, “All of you shut up!”
The talk quietened, and Tal said, “I’m Tal Hawkins.
I’m a mercenary captain.” He took down the banner of Count Holmalee and threw it on the fire. “I need an army, so here’s your choice. You can leave now and take your chances on getting back home again. You know what it’s _______________
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like on the road, so you have an idea of the risks. Or you can stay with us. You’ll be free soldiers, but you’ll obey me. You’ll get an equal share in any plunder, and you’ll get paid when we don’t fight.” He looked at a particularly beautiful young girl with black eyes and raven tresses who stepped to the front. “You women; there will be no camp followers in my army. No whores. Anyone who’s with us fights. That includes women. If you don’t know how to fight, we’ll teach you. Now, you have until dawn to decide. Stay and fight, or leave on your own and take your chances.”
He turned and went back to the fire to find out what else there was worth eating. He settled down with a block of hard cheese and some bread. Visniya had found a wine-skin and Tal took a deep drink before passing it on. With a mouth full of food, he said, “After we eat, let’s get rid of those bodies.”
Quint sat down next to him. “One thing.”
“What?”
“You may not have the best fighters around, but damn me if you don’t have the prettiest army I’ve ever seen.”
Tal laughed.
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The guard stared.
As strange a band of mercenaries as he had ever seen was approaching the gate of Karesh’kaar. Tal had taken the arms and armor from the six dead guards and passed it among the thirty slaves. Some wore only a helm or a breastplate with just a dagger at their belt, while others carried a sword and wore no armor, but they all had something that made them look like soldiers. Every morning before breaking camp, Tal had had his men instruct the former slaves as to the rudiments of fighting. Some learned slowly, but they grew in confidence by the day.
The sergeant of the guard at the gate studied them as the two wagons and thirty-five mercenaries rolled through the gate. They wore an assortment of ragged clothing: some wore boots, while others wore only san-dals, and the women wore shifts instead of tunics and _______________
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trousers—which hardly made them unique in the guard’s experience—but what was strangest was most of them were young and looked like pleasure slaves. Even odder was the leader, a one-armed man who looked as if he hadn’t had a bath in months.
The guard questioned Tal briefly, then waved them into the city. Tal organized them in a small market square.
“Sell
everything you can,” he instructed Quint. The wagons contained mostly foodstuffs, but also an assortment of cookware and a small box of trade items. “I’ll have gold for us in a day or two, but we need a place to stay for the night. Find the cheapest nearby inn where these children won’t get raped, have their throats cut, or get enslaved again, then send word to me where you are.”
“Where are you going to be?” asked Quint.
“At a different inn, the Anvil and Tong.”
“Why don’t we go there?”
“I have my reasons. Find somewhere nearby, then send word.” As Tal walked away, he looked over his shoulder and added, “Oh, and have Masterson stand behind you when you dicker price for the horses and wagons. It should help.”
Quint nodded with a laugh and turned to oversee his charges.
Tal asked several times for directions and at last spotted an old, faded sign displaying a pair of tongs holding an anvil. He entered and saw that the inn was empty. For this time of the day he had expected one or two customers, but he was just as happy for the privacy. He went to the bar and waited. A moment later a young woman came out, and said, “Can I get you something?”
“I need to send a message,” said Tal.
The girl looked surprised. “Sir? I don’t take your meaning?”
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“Then get someone who does,” he said quietly. “I need to send a message to the Squire of Forest Deep.”
The girl nodded and left. In a few minutes, she returned with another woman, slightly older, behind her.
The woman looked at him for a minute, then said,
“Mayami said something about a message, sir?”
“I need to send a message to the Squire of Forest Deep.”
The second woman turned to the girl and said, “I’ll take care of this. Go to the kitchen and wait there.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When the girl was gone, the woman said, “Do you have the message?”
“No. Give me something to write on and I’ll pen one, or you can just tell Magnus or Nakor or Robert to use their arts and get here as soon as they can, tomorrow if possible, though tonight would be even better.”
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