by Tony Roberts
Amne giggled. “Perhaps you’ll fall in love in Mazag?”
Theros grinned, then became serious. “I would caution you, ma’am, to not lose your heart on this journey.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that man Lalaas; he’s paying you very close attention. Be wary lest he tries to capture your heart.”
Amne was surprised; Theros wasn’t joking, judging by his expression. “Lalaas has not done anything untoward, and I don’t think he will. Father entrusted him to look after me, and that is what he’s doing. Theros, I’m disappointed in you. Without Lalaas none of us would have made it this far.”
“All the same, do not get too close to him. It isn’t something a lady of your bearing should do.”
Amne’s face went red, but Theros didn’t see it because of the light of the fire, the darkness outside and the warmth that was already upon her face. “Theros, we will not talk of this further. I’m not a silly girl.”
“No ma’am, of course not.” Theros turned away, but the pangs of jealousy he felt when she was with Lalaas just wouldn’t go away. If he remained close to Amne, then he would send a letter to Kastan. Lalaas would not remain in the service of the Koros after he had finished with him.
Lalaas himself had climbed to the top of the pass, leaving the pot close to the cave entrance. His misgivings about what he’d seen earlier compelled him to go back to the top of the pass and look back down. The wind was as strong as ever, and the darkness almost absolute. He kept on looking back but the wind made it impossible to see. No matter, he had a good idea of what path to take. Sliding around the boulders he was at last out of the shrieking gale and looked back down the valley.
The ice and snow flurries made it hard to see anything, but after a few moments he thought he caught sight of a small pinpoint of light, far away. A fire? The night had fallen upon them and he rubbed his eyes and stared again, concentrating. The snow made it difficult but he was almost certain there was a fire down there, maybe half a day’s climb away.
He scowled and turned about. They would have to be up and ready to leave before the dawn.
____
The next morning they resumed their descent. The going was slippery and Lalaas got them all to walk, leading the animals. A fall was too much of a risk. The snows had come again during the night and progress was hard, but they had gravity working for them and they made reasonably good time. Better, so Lalaas thought, than anyone trying to climb the pass on the other side.
At the bottom of the slope they came to a stand of evergreen trees. They stopped and allowed the animals to chew on the undergrowth. “Lady and gentlemen,” Lalaas announced, facing them all, “welcome to Bragal.”
“We’re here?” Amne replied, her voice hushed.
“Indeed, ma’am. We passed into the province of Bragal a short while back.”
“Now what?” Theros asked. He’d said little on the journey after waking up, and Lalaas wondered if he and Amne had had a falling out, since both appeared to be on edge, particularly on her part with him. It wasn’t his business.
“The land settles into rolling hills. We will be passing through western Bragal, well away from Zofela and the area the emperor will be with his army. There are many villages in this part of Bragal, and the war hasn’t touched many here. They are farmers, herdsmen and fishermen. If we keep away from them we should be fine. The journey will be long and slow, because of the winter, but we should eventually reach the Ister River and cross it close to Bukrat. All things being well, it should be the summer when we get over the river.”
“So long?” Amne said in dismay. “How will we survive that long?”
“I’ll take care of that, ma’am,” Lalaas said. “But before that I think it best I advise you all that we’re being followed.”
The others broke into cries of dismay and fear. “How far back?” Theros demanded.
“Half a day, perhaps. They have to climb the mountain yet.”
“When did you find this out, Lalaas?” Amne asked, her face pale.
“Last night. I wasn’t sure, but I’m more than ever convinced now that they – whoever they are – are on our trail. We must find out who it is, and so I intend setting an ambush here.”
“Why?” one of the clerks asked.
“Why? Because here they can only pass this way, whereas further into the region there’s plenty of space to go by other routes. I want to know who they are and what they are doing following us.”
“They could be innocently travelling,” Amne pointed out.
Lalaas shook his head. “Not here at this time of year. No sane person would try this pass. That is why I chose this route. If anyone came this way in our wake, it would be because they are following us.”
“It might be father sending help,” Amne suggested.
“No. He told me to choose the route and wanted to know nothing of what it was. Only I know the route. Whoever it is must be a tracker or hunter.” Lalaas looked back up the slope. “They’ll be at the top of the pass now. I estimate they’ll be here shortly before dusk. Time enough to conceal the animals, set up a camp and prepare an ambush.”
“And what contribution are we to have in all this?” Theros asked coldly.
“None whatsoever, Counsel. You’re a diplomat. You do whatever you do and leave what I do to me. I’m a hunter. I’m hunting those people coming down after us. Go deeper into the wood, make camp, but do not start a fire. I’ll come and help you set it up, then I’m coming back here to ambush whoever it is. Hopefully it won’t be too difficult.”
Amne shivered. Best she went to the camp with the clerks and Theros. They set it up, using the trees as anchors for the tent ropes, and had it set up in no time. Lunch was cold smoked meat and water. Lalaas promised them they could light a fire that evening once he had sorted out whatever needed to be done at the bottom of the pass. Then he departed, leaving Amne and the men in the camp, worrying.
Lalaas found the edge of the wood and looked about for a likely place to hide himself. Finally he went to the other side of the path and leaped from rock to rock so that he left no footprint. There were plenty of those on the other side and it wouldn’t take any skill to see where everyone had gone, or so Lalaas hoped. Then he settled down and waited. The only concern he had was his breath. He had to breathe shallowly but it was hard to do so for any length of time, and so he found a gap in the rocks through which he could see up the slope.
After a while, in which time his feet grew numb, two figures appeared coming down the pass. Both were on foot. One was holding a spear and was dressed in military gear, while the other was in rough Bragal clothing and was using a staff, but also had a sword in his belt. This one must be the guide/tracker. Lalaas slowly drew out his sword and placed it on the rocks in front of him.
Amne was consumed with tension. She wanted to know what was going on. Who were they who were following them? Was Lalaas alright? If something happened to him, then the mission was as good as dead. There they were, stuck in Bragal, with no prospect of going on. She had to know. Her curiosity was getting too much for her. “Theros, I’m going to see what’s happening,” she said suddenly.
“Ma’am, that’s not wise,” Theros said, alarmed. “Your safety is paramount; going off alone in this wood is not a sensible thing to do, believe me!”
“Let me decide what is sensible and what is not, Theros. You stay here and tend the camp and animals; I’m going to see if Lalaas is alright.”
“But your majesty…”
“That’s a command, Theros,” Amne interrupted. “I’ll be fine; the tracks are clear. Stay here.”
“But what if a wild beast happens upon you?”
“I’ve seen none, have you? There’s no sound or them or tracks. I won’t be long.”
Amne drifted off through the trees, leaving Theros and the two clerks alone, wondering if their careers were all about to come to an abrupt end.
Lalaas gripped the hilt of his sword. The two men were
quite distinct now. The Bragal guide was leading the Kastanian spearman along the track towards the trees, following the footprints left by the group. The spearman didn’t act or move like a soldier; more like a cutpurse. Lalaas had seen them before. Sly, untrustworthy people. His hackles rose.
As the two came alongside, looking at the ground and ahead, he rose up and stood on top of the rock he’d been hiding behind. “Enough!” he snapped.
The two men swung round. The spearman gripped his weapon and pointed it in Lalaas’ direction while the tracker dropped his staff and pulled out his sword.
“State your business,” Lalaas growled. “Why do you follow me?”
“Why should I?” the tracker snarled. “You are to die, as are all of your group.”
Lalaas jumped down onto the snow, his weight evenly spread on both feet. “Shut up, hireling, you’re not who I addressed. You,” he pointed with the tip of his sword at the spearman, “who are you and who hired you?”
“Kill him,” he growled to the tracker. The Bragalese smiled and came running at Lalaas. The hunter stepped to his right, then sharply to his left, putting the attack from the tracker off. His sword cut, aimed for Lalaas’ head, sliced harmlessly through the air. Lalaas planted both feet hard on the ground and swung his blade in a circle, centred on the tracker’s waist. The cut ripped through the padded jacket, the cloth shirt and the man’s stomach and exited in a shower of blood and muscle. Lalaas executed the circle and the blade, now bright red and steaming in the cold air, came to rest pointing at the spearman. The Bragal tracker sank to his knees, clutching his ruined gut, making odd mewling noises, and slowly fell onto his face.
“Now I ask you again. Who sent you?”
“You’ll get nothing from me, Koros kisser,” the spearman said and raised his spear. Lalaas realised the man intended to skewer him. At that moment Amne emerged from the wood and saw the tableau in front of her. She gasped and cried out, holding her hands to her face.
The spearman twisted and his face broke into an evil smile of triumph. His grip on the spear altered and Lalaas knew he had moments to act. Without thinking, he pulled his sword back and flung his arm forward, releasing the weapon, sending it spinning through the air towards the man. Even as he did so, he realised with a sick feeling he had been too late, for the spear was already leaving the man’s hands.
Amne saw the motion and screamed, flinging herself to one side, falling into a deep drift of snow. The spear meant for her narrowly missed and buried itself in the nearest tree, vibrating loudly. In contrast Lalaas’ sword struck the spearman on the right shoulder, sinking in deep. The spearman cried out and fell over, and Lalaas was springing towards him, his hunting knife in his right hand. The spearman was trying to get to his feet but Lalaas was upon him and his knife bit deep into his throat, slicing his windpipe open. As the man fell forward, gurgling obscenely, Lalaas forgot about him and made his way to Amne who was on all fours, crying out in fear. He reached her and picked her up, brushing the snow from her clothes and hair. “Are you alright?” he breathed.
Amne nodded and caught hold of him. “Oh, Lalaas! That was horrid!”
“It’s all over, Your Majesty,” he replied, looking at the two corpses in the snow.
Amne buried herself in Lalaas’ jacket, and Theros and the two clerks, alerted by her screams, came pounding out of the wood to see what was going on. Theros looked at Lalaas darkly, and the hunter jerked his head in the direction of the dead men. He let go of the princess and looked at her sternly. “You may be a princess, ma’am, but you will never ever again disobey my wishes on this journey, do you understand me?”
“Yes, Lalaas,” she replied in a small voice.
Lalaas breathed out long and hard and put her into the hands of Theros who took her and led her unresistingly back to the camp. Lalaas then returned to the corpses and retrieved his sword, and then set about searching them. He found little of value, except some gold coins which he grunted in satisfaction at. These could well come in use. The spearman had nothing on him to indicate who he’d been working for. As expected. But if the dead man had been an imperial soldier then he was a Bragalese canine.
Cleaning his weapons he found the two clerks still there, looking in fascination at the scene. “Never seen a dead man before?” Lalaas asked.
They both shook their heads.
“One golden rule; strip them of everything of use.” Lalaas checked the boots, clothing and belts. The imperial issue stuff was of decent quality and he took the belt and knife from the spearman. “Let’s get back to the camp; we can start a fire now and relax.”
As they trudged back, Theros was speaking urgently to Amne. “You are of the blood, princess. You must not un-dignify yourself in that manner with him again! He is not to touch you nor you him. For your father’s sake, try to maintain a little decorum!”
Amne giggled hysterically. The brush with death had unnerved her. Now the reaction was beginning to set in. “Decorum, Theros? Decorum?” she giggled, a little louder. Theros looked at her in concern. Amne carried on. “That man tried to kill me; how should I maintain my dignity in that instance?” she laughed aloud and began shaking. Theros, completely confused, stood back as Amne burst into gales of laughter, the just as suddenly broke down into floods of tears.
It was then that Lalaas arrived and saw her like that. He went up to her and spun her round. “Princess, stop it!”
Theros protested but Lalaas ignored him. He shook her, then slapped her once across the face. Amne stared at him in shock, but it had cleared her mind. She fingered the pain on her face.
Theros stepped forward, his face menacing. “That is treason, Lalaas. You have gone too far!”
“Shut up,” Lalaas said softly. “I’m sorry, but I had to do that,” he said to Amne who was looking at him with wide eyes. “You were hysterical.”
She worked her mouth but no words came out, then abruptly she turned away and marched to her tent and threw herself inside. The men looked at the tent, then Theros turned to Lalaas. “When we reach civilisation I shall call for your arrest and execution. Nobody strikes a member of the imperial family, ever!”
“You saw her condition; since you were doing nothing I had to take over. It worked. Who knows what her mind might have been like if I hadn’t done what I had.”
Theros shook his head. “All I saw was you striking the princess; for that you will hang.”
The two clerks looked in pity at Lalaas, then turned away. There was nothing much they could say. Lalaas eyed the princess’s tent, then muttered to himself and set about making a fire. He busied himself in getting it going, then set up a hanging rack using some of the firewood. He hung some of the remaining meat they had from this. He’d have to start hunting soon if they were to eat the rest of the sevenday. He was thinking that over when he sensed someone at his shoulder. Amne.
“Food’s nearly ready, ma’am,” he said, looking up.
The princess didn’t say anything for a moment, then she drew in a deep breath. “Lalaas. You are the most important of our group in getting us through Bragal to Mazag. But don’t go thinking you can do that again to me. I wasn’t myself and I’ll excuse your moment of madness as you not being yourself either. I won’t have you doing that again, Lalaas, is that clear?”
“Understood, ma’am,” Lalaas looked away. Best not to risk upsetting her by looking her in the eye. He was lower than her in society and it was almost certain she’d never acknowledge his existence if they had met in Kastan. He glanced at where Theros was watching him, an icy expression on his face. Amne may forgive him but Theros certainly wouldn’t.
Lalaas wondered if he’d live once they got to Mazag.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Vosgaris studied the latest hastily scribbled note that had been dropped into his hands. His spies in the city had been working hard with reports of the Fokis family and their confederates, but so far nothing had actually turned up. Every time he and his men went to where a meeting had been
arranged or some premises used for illegal trading had been identified, there was nothing to be found.
He was wondering whether these spies were telling the truth or making up stories so that they got money for nothing. There again he was still learning the job and was to some extent reliant on his lieutenants, men who had seen it all before. They had worked under Mercos and knew the ways of bribery and corruption. Vosgaris knew they’d been on the take before, and now had been told unless they knuckle down to some serious work then they’d be out and lose their positions of privilege.
How loyal they were was open to debate, but they did seem to be giving him sound advice. Vosgaris sighed and held his head in his hands. Being Captain of the Palace Guard was meant to be a ceremonial position, but the emperor and empress had turned it into a city policing duty, mostly because the town guard had gone with the emperor to Bragal, and he was now virtually a spymaster. Not something he’d entered the service for, but it had sort of crept up on him.
Their morale had been boosted when the news of the victory over the traitorous Duras army had reached Kastan, and the city criers had announced it from all public places to much acclamation. It had been quite some time since they’d had a military victory to celebrate. The empress had gone on to announce that all Duras land and property was to be seized by the state. They had done so within Kastan and sent orders to the other cities and towns to do so, but the country estates of the Duras were at that moment out of reach; there wasn’t the manpower to do it. He’d been fairly busy with that over the past couple of sevendays. The trouble was the Duras had hidden much of their property with third parties, and proving it was going to be difficult.
What was certain was he’d not been entirely successful thus far, and he believed his position was in jeopardy. Already Sereth had been heard to say to the empress that he knew of a better qualified man to replace Vosgaris. He needed to give the empress something.