The commander said, “My subedar has reported that you claim to be merchants.”
“We are, my lord,” said Kaspar with just enough deference to be respectful.
“You are a rough-looking company for reputable traders.”
Kaspar looked him straight in the eye. “We’ve been though a great deal. There were thirty in our company when this enterprise began—” Kaspar neglected to mention his late arrival “—and now we are four.”
“Hmm, and apparently you’ve managed to collect an impressive amount of booty.”
“Not booty, my lord, but honest profits,” said Kaspar remaining calm and persuasive.
The commander looked at him for a long minute, then said, “You’re foreigners, which is in your favor, as I can’t believe even the idiot-king of Sasbataba is muddle-headed enough to try and pass off four foreigners, complete with a wagon, coffin, and a fortune in gold, as spies.
“No, I’ll trust you, simply because I don’t have the time to decide if you’re merchants or criminals. That’s for the local constabulary to worry about. Me, I’ve got to figure out how to thread a rope through the eye of a needle.”
Kaspar glanced over at the table where a map lay stretched out. He had read enough military maps in his day to be able to judge the situation in a glance. “That narrow in the road two miles up is a double-edged sword.”
“You have a good eye for the situation, stranger. Were you a soldier?”
“I was.”
The commander gave Kaspar a long look, then said, “An officer?”
“I commanded,” was all that Kaspar said.
“And you got a look at that pass in the road?”
“I did, and it’s a position I’d want to defend, not attack from.”
“But the bloody problem is that we need to be on the other side of it.”
Kaspar didn’t ask permission but simply turned to the map. He studied it for a moment, then said, “You might as well bring back your cavalry. They’re next to useless employed there, unless you want to see them picked off two at a time as they ride through.”
The commander waved the junior officer over and said, “Send a rider and tell the cavalry to fall back to the village. Leave a messenger squad at the front, too.”
“As long as I’m giving you advice,” said Kaspar, “the men holding the pass look like they haven’t seen a hot meal in a month.”
“I’m aware of the situation.”
Looking at the map, Kaspar said, “And if I may ask you for some advice, will the southeastern road take us around the conflict?”
The commander laughed. “By a wide margin. That road will eventually take you to the Serpent River; from there you could travel by boat, but it’s a dangerous trek these days.” He sighed and said, “In my grandfather’s time, the City of the Serpent River kept things quiet upriver for hundreds of miles. Local rulers also helped to keep the area relatively calm, save for an occasional skirmish or two. Back then, a merchant could travel practically anywhere without an escort, but now, you’d be well advised to postpone your journey, unless you hire a company of mercenaries to go with you, and they are very hard to find in these parts.”
“All wearing your colors?” asked Kaspar with a smile.
“Or Sasbataba’s.” He fixed Kaspar and his companions with a baleful look and said, “If you were a little less gray, I’d press-gang the four of you on the spot.” He held up his hand and said, “But for the time being, I’ll settle for one more piece of advice. I appreciate fresh eyes; look at this map and tell me how you’d deal with that bottleneck.”
“Without knowing the deployment of the defenders and what resources are available, I’d simply be guessing.”
“Then assume that there are sufficient forces in a village about an hour’s ride south of the gap. The enemy probably has several companies of archers situated in the rocks around the gap, and in the woods on the other side.”
Kaspar looked at the map for a long time, then he said, “I’d go around them.”
“And leave them at your back?”
“Why not?” He pointed to a spot on the map. “Here you have a nice wide little valley, but what? Three days west of here?” He moved his finger in a line. “I’d keep enough men here to make noise and confound any scouts or spies they might have nearby, then send a couple of squads of infantry right up to the gap, trumpets blowing, flags flying, and then dig in. Make it look as if you’re going to wait them out for a while.
“Then, while the infantry keeps them busy, I’d send those three companies of cavalry, including any horse archers you can scrape up, and send them west. Leave the mounted infantry behind Sasbataba’s men in the woods and hills, and ride through that village. Instead of having you bottled up, their archers are now trapped and you’ve got the village.”
“Not a bad plan. Not a bad plan at all.” He looked at Kaspar and asked, “What is your name?”
“Kaspar, from Olasko.” He turned, “These are my companions, Flynn, Kenner, and McGoin from the Kingdom of the Isles.”
“And the unfortunate in the wagon?”
“The former leader of our expedition, Milton Prevence.”
“The Kingdom of the Isles? I thought that land a myth,” observed the Commander. “My name is Alenburga, and I’m a General of the Brigade.”
Kaspar bowed slightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, General Alenburga.”
“Of course it is,” said the commander. “Some of my fellow officers would have hung you just to be done with the bother.” He signaled to his subedar. “Take these men to the corner-house and lock them up.”
Flynn started to say something, but Kaspar held his hand up to silence him. “For how long?” he asked the General.
“Until I judge whether this damn-fool plan of yours has merit. I’ll send the scouts out this afternoon and if all goes well, we’ll both be heading south again within the week.”
Kaspar nodded and said, “If it’s not too much bother, we would like to see to our own provisions.”
“It’s no bother, but save yourself the trouble, there’s no spare food in the village. My commissary has commandeered everything we can chuck into a cook pot. But don’t worry. We’ll see you’re fed. Please, join me for supper tonight.”
Kaspar bowed and he and his friends fell in behind the subedar. They were led to a small house just off the town square and shown inside. “Guards will be outside the doors and windows, gentlemen, so I suggest you settle in. We’ll come fetch you at suppertime.”
Kaspar led the others inside and looked around the makeshift jail. It was a small building with two rooms: a kitchen and a bedroom, and outside lay a modest garden and a well. Everything remotely edible had been picked out of the garden, and the cupboard was bare. Seeing only two beds in the other room, Kaspar said, “I’ll take the floor tonight. We’ll alternate.”
Flynn said, “I guess we have no choice.”
Kaspar grinned and said, “No, but we may have some luck out of this.”
“How is this lucky?” asked Kenner.
“If General Alenburga doesn’t hang us, he may well escort us halfway to the City of the Serpent River. An army is better than any band of mercenaries for protection.”
McGoin went to the bed and threw himself down on it. Through the door he said, “If you say so, Kaspar.”
Kenner sat down on a chair between the hearth and table in the main room and asked, “Did anyone remember to bring a deck of cards?”
After three nights, supper with the General and his staff became a standing invitation. Alenburga’s staff consisted of five younger officers and a senior advisor, an over-colonel. The General proved to be a genial host. While the food was hardly banquet-hall fare, it was tastier than the rations Kaspar had been eating on the road, and even though there was no wine, there was ample ale, and the General’s commissary proved able to come up with quite a variety of dishes given the scant ingredients available to him.
After the meal, t
he General asked Kaspar to linger, while he had Flynn and the others escorted back to their quarters. When they had gone, he sent away his batman and ordered the guards outside. Producing a pair of cups, he fetched a bottle of wine from a bag near his sleeping pallet and said, “I don’t have enough for the officer’s mess, but I have a couple of bottles stashed away for moments like these.”
Kaspar took the proffered cup and said, “What’s the occasion?”
“A tiny celebration, actually,” said the General. “I’m not going to hang you.”
Kaspar raised his cup and said, “I’ll drink to that,” and took a sip. “Very good,” he said afterward. “What’s the grape?”
“We call it sharez.” The General took a drink. “It grows in several regions close by.”
“I shall have to fetch a bottle or two home, so—” he was about to say so that his housecarl could provide samples to wine traders in Opardum, and seek out the same grape in the Kingdom or Kesh, but then the reality of his new life came tumbling over him, “—so I can recall these pleasant evenings once or twice more.”
“Finding a pleasant evening in the midst of war is welcome,” agreed the General. “In any event, my scouts have reported that the situation is much as you anticipated. There are desultory patrols that can easily be neutralized, and a clear line of attack on the western flank. Now I know for certain you’re not spies.”
“I thought you had come to that conclusion some time ago?”
“One cannot be too careful. It had occurred to me that your story was so improbable, and your demeanor so unlikely, that you could be incredibly clever spies. I doubted it, but as I said, one cannot be too careful.” He smiled and drank again. “Our enemies would not hand us a major victory simply to lull us into a false sense of superiority. Besides, if we take the two villages to the south, Sasbataba will be forced to sue for peace or be utterly defeated. The King’s an idiot, but his Generals are not fools. We’ll have a truce in a month from now.”
“Something to look forward to,” said Kaspar.
“It should make your journey to the City of the Serpent River somewhat easier,” observed the General. “You have no idea how nasty some of these border skirmishes can get and the terrible effect they have on commerce.”
“I believe I do,” said Kaspar.
The General looked at him a long moment, then said, “You are a noble, yes?”
Kaspar said nothing, but he nodded.
“Your companions, they do not know?”
Kaspar sipped the wine and after a moment said, “I do not wish them to know.”
“I’m sure you have good reason. You are, I gather, a very long way from home.”
“Halfway around the world,” said Kaspar. “I…ruled a duchy. I was the fifteenth hereditary Duke of Olasko. My family had direct ties to the throne of Roldem—not the most powerful, but one of the most influential kingdoms in the region—by descent and by marriage. I…” His eyes lost their focus as he remembered things he hadn’t thought about since meeting Flynn and the others. “I fell prey to the two worst faults of a ruler.”
Alenburga said, “Vanity and self-deception.”
Kaspar laughed. “Make it three then: you neglected ambition.”
“The power you inherited wasn’t enough?”
Kaspar shrugged. “There are two kinds of men born to power, I think. Well, three if you count the fools, but of those with a mind to rule, you are either a man content with what providence has given you or you will always seek to enlarge your demesne. I was given to the latter disposition by nature, I fear. I sought to rule as much as possible and hand down a legacy of greatness to my heirs.”
“So ambition and vanity in large measure.”
“You seem to understand.”
“I am related to the Raj, but have no ambition save to serve and bring peace to a troubled region. My cousin is as wise a young man as I have ever met. I have no sons, but even if I had, I could not imagine a finer young man to care for what I have built. He is…remarkable. It’s a shame you’ll never meet him.”
“Why never?”
“Because, you are anxious to be on your way as soon as you can, and heading north to Muboya is hardly along your planned route.”
“Then I guess you’re right. So, we’re free to leave?”
“Not quite yet. If we lose, based on this mad plan of yours—”
“Mine?” exclaimed Kaspar with a laugh.
“Of course it is, if we lose. If we win, I am the genius responsible for the stunning victory.”
“Of course,” said Kaspar, lifting his cup in salute and then drinking.
“It’s a shame you’re so intent on returning home. I expect there’s a wonderful story behind how a powerful ruler of a nation finds himself traveling with a band of merchants on the other side of the world. Should you choose to remain, I know I could find you a position of some authority here. Men of talent are at a premium.”
“I have a throne to reclaim.”
“Well, you can tell me about that tomorrow night. Go and tell your friends that if we prove victorious in the next few days, you’ll be on your way in a week. Good night to you, Your Grace.”
Kaspar smiled at the use of the honorific. “Good night to you, my Lord General.”
Kaspar returned to the house and bade the soldiers who escorted him a good night. As he entered, he wondered how much of his past he would reveal to the General over the next few days and he realized that talking about it to someone who understood the nature of rulership had been a relief. Then, for the first time, he felt the need to examine some of the choices he had made. He was less than a year removed from his previous life, yet at times it seemed much farther away than that. And many of those decisions now gave him pause: why had he desired the crown of Roldem so ardently? After spending months shoveling steer-manure over Jojanna’s vegetables, carrying crates for mere coppers a day, and sleeping in the open without even a blanket for warmth, ambition seemed an almost ludicrous concept.
Thinking of Jojanna made him wonder how she and Jorgen were doing. Perhaps there might be some way to send them a message, to pass along a tiny part of the wealth he carried in that wagon. What he would spend on a new set of clothing when he returned to the Kingdom would make them the richest farmers in the village.
He sighed and put that thought away. There was still a very long way to go.
NINE
MURDER
Kaspar bounced on the seat.
He was taking his turn driving the wagon, a skill he decided he had never really needed to learn, as they traveled a relatively rocky portion of the old highway. The wooden wheels groaned and creaked every time they bounced over a rut in the road, and the constant rattling was leaching out any patience Kaspar had. He would be so very glad to see the last of this wagon.
He turned his mind away from his physical discomfort and took in the scenery. The land around them was turning cooler, and a darker green as they headed south. Kaspar found the notion that the hotter lands were in the north, along with the season here being opposite of his homeland, very odd. They were heading into the hottest part of the summer in this region, readying for the Midsummer’s Festival, Banapis, while in his homeland of Olasko, the Midwinter’s Festival would be celebrated.
The landscape was charming though, thought Kaspar, a series of rising hills and meadows, green farms and thick forests set away from the road. A high range of mountains was visible in the distance to the southwest. Kaspar knew from discussions with those on the road that those would be the Mountains of the Sea. The Serpent River was closer now, running a course to the west before turning south again, and they would reach a ferry landing two days south of Shamsha. Here they could abandon the wagon and book passage on a river boat heading down to the City of the Serpent River. They were seventeen days south of Higara and still two days away from Shamsha, the first thing that would pass for a small city according to what travelers they had encountered had told them.
&n
bsp; Now that they were away from the many nameless villages they had driven through, Kaspar found the dreams were returning. From the occasional outcry as one or another of his companions awoke from a troubling dream, he knew the others were suffering from the same affliction.
Kaspar rode up beside Flynn and said, “If there’s a temple in Shamsha, maybe we might find a priest to take a look at our dead friend?”
“Why?” asked Flynn.
“Doesn’t it disturb you just a little that the farther we get from where you dug him up—”
“We didn’t dig him up,” Flynn interrupted. “We traded with those who did.”
“Very well,” Kaspar said. “How about, since you came into possession of him, people have been dying all the time and the farther away we get from where you got him, the more vivid and troubling the dreams have become?”
Flynn flicked the reins to move the sluggish horses along. He was silent a while, then said, “You’re suggesting it’s cursed?”
“Something like that.” Kaspar paused then said, “Look, we all know that once someone gets involved or…touches the damn thing…well, however it works, we can’t just leave it. Maybe you’re right and the magicians at Stardock will want it and pay a bounty for it, but what if they can’t…get us to give it up?”
Flynn flicked the reins again. “I didn’t think about that.”
“Well, think about it,” suggested Kaspar. “I would really like to be able to make a choice about where I go once we reach Port Vykor.”
“But your share…?”
Kaspar said, “We’ll talk about it when we get there. Riches are not something I dwell on; getting home is.”
A moment later he saw something in the distance. “Smoke?” he said to Flynn.
Exile's Return: Conclave of Shadows: Book Three Page 10