Hopefully.
Brant just had to get back across the Dastanar border.
Yeah. That was all. No problem.
He wiped sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. Considering it was late fall, Eagleton would be frozen under feet of ice and snow. The Dastanarian desert, on the other hand, still boiled under merciless sunlight.
Brant whipped off his shirt to cool down.
Tatiana looked him over from head to foot, her gaze lingering on his chest. “I do so love a man with big muscles.” She grinned. “Especially when all his muscles are big.”
Brant laughed and risked a glance at Ivie, who’d found a meager shade in the shadow of a bush. She gave no sign of paying any attention to the exchange as she drank water from her wineskin.
“You’d know,” he said.
Tatiana giggled. “So what’s a girl got to do to get the full effect of those muscles again?”
Ever since she’d met Ivie, Tatiana had been laying it on thick, and Brant understood why. A slave out of favor with her master was a slave whose life was in jeopardy, which made him a horrible person if he took advantage.
But she was freely offering herself to him and, man, was she good in bed. The best he’d had, and that was saying something. Hard to pass that up. Plus, he’d never be able to convince her with words that she had nothing to worry about. Sleeping with her would put her mind to rest. So really, he’d be doing it for her.
“Now is not the time,” he said. “Once we get to Bermau, you can have all you can handle.”
“I can’t wait, master,” Tatiana said. “I’ll make you forget any other girl you’ve had. Or any girl you will have. You’ll never even think of having another.”
Still no reaction from Ivie.
Tatiana smirked. “Especially little slips of girls who don’t even have boobs.”
He cast another sideways look at Ivie, who paid no attention to the banter. Certainly wasn’t mad. Not that he wanted her to be or anything. He was just curious.
“You got what you wanted, Tat.” Brant said. “That’s enough.”
She pouted, though the twinkle in her eyes said she wasn’t that upset. Luckily, he was saved from further comment by Raleigh appearing from the trail.
Brant hadn’t heard a sound.
“Rockslide ahead,” Raleigh said. “Way’s good and blocked.”
“How bad?” Stokes said.
“There’ll be no clearing it.”
Brant frowned. “Even for a masser?”
“Better not to use magic in a land with a thousand mages, sir,” Stokes said.
Brant sighed. “What are our options, then? Another path?”
“The main road, sir,” Raleigh said. “It’s the only way.”
“But the checkpoint …” Brant said.
Stokes glanced pointedly at the two girls. “Maybe this discussion would be better for another time, sir?”
Brant nodded. Whatever the sergeant wanted to tell him, he wouldn’t like it. And the girls, apparently, really wouldn’t like it.
They followed Raleigh forward on the trail, Stokes and Brant hanging back until out of the girls’ hearing.
“Ivie and Tatiana are both Dastanarian, sir,” Stokes said. “It’s in their speech, their manner, everything. There’ll be no hiding it. Ivie’s papers won’t be enough to get her through, sir, and we have none at all for Tatiana.”
Brant grimaced. The restriction against subjects traveling in and out of the kingdom was why they hadn’t gone through the fortress on their way in. “There’s nothing we can do?”
“We have little coin left, sir, but we can try a bribe. If we get to the checkpoint and the guards don’t accept it, though, the girls will be in a bad situation.”
“What if we fight?”
“Five of us against an entire garrison, sir?”
“Then, what do we do?”
Stokes shrugged. “Give the girls our money and set them free, sir? They’d at least have a shot at making it somewhere. Or …”
“Or what?”
“We kill them, sir. No chance of them betraying us that way.”
“No! Absolutely not!” Brant shouted. “What kind of man even suggests that?”
“Lower your voice, sir.”
Brant pursed his lips but stopped yelling.
“I’m the kind of man who puts the mission above everything, sir.”
Knights didn’t betray their vassals, not that either of the girls were properly that to Brant. Still, a noble protected his people. An officer protected his people.
“Even honor?” Brant said. “Tatiana has my word, and I’m responsible for Ivie.”
“Even honor, sir, but it’s your decision. You need to make it soon, though. If they’re to run for it, the farther from the checkpoint they start, the better.”
Brant hesitated for an instant. “We’re going through the border. All of us.”
“Very well, sir.”
“We’ll figure out something.”
“Very well, sir.”
But what if they didn’t?
62.
The fortress loomed above Brant.
His final obstacle. After coming so far, he just had to wait behind a line of foreign merchants and would-be emigrants and to pass through with his party intact. Bermau and safety lay on the other side.
Dastanarian guards manned the walls with swords and bows. Nothing about their manner or discipline or weapons or uniforms made them seem anything less than professional soldiers, so any hopes King Barius had assigned unskilled idiots to the crossing flew out the window.
The bridge across the ravine separating the two kingdoms ran straight through the hold. After a heavy portcullis that let in a single party at a time, a long alley filled with guards and murder holes followed with a second portcullis guarding the exit. A strong, oily stench filled the air—burning tar, which none of Brant’s party could prevent from being poured on them.
As the line inched forward, he eyed the defenses and considered his options. On the plus side, he had a masser, a death mage, and two experienced soldiers. Those were his only advantages, though, and they weren’t sufficient.
The crossing had been designed with the knowledge that mages existed. Brant couldn’t collapse enough of the wall to take out all the guards. Neither could Ivie disable the men behind the murder holes fast enough. Not to mention, there might be, you know, a hundred Dastanarian mages hidden away ready to strike. Even if he had fifty times as many men and magic users as he did, guarantying their ability to get through that passage alive by fighting wasn’t possible.
Brant would just have to talk his way through. Somehow.
That was Xan’s strength. Man, Brant sure could use his friend at the moment. But wishing for the impossible got him nowhere.
His best hope was that the guards would be so bored they’d pass him and his friends through without giving it a second thought. Unfortunately, a captain processing each party didn’t look bored in the least. He scanned each document thoroughly and had his men check each bag and wagon.
Brant sighed. No help for it.
Finally, it was his turn, and the portcullis raised to let him and his group in. They proceeded forward to greet the officer.
The captain gave each of the girls a long, leering stare, especially Tatiana. “Papers?”
Though Tatiana wore a normal dress instead of the revealing garments she did when he’d met her, she was pretty, and a collar still covered her neck. Taking it off would have meant her death if she’d been caught as a slave without one, and her only papers were documents recording her purchase from Numav.
Brant hid a wince as he handed them over. He hoped her obvious status as a slave would make her draw less notice.
The captain frowned, and the expression only got wider as he thumbed through the stack of papers. “Three travelers from Bermau, here on business. Unusual, but no real problem. The girls, however, cannot pass.”
As usual, not a lick of emotion
crossed Ivie’s face, but Tatiana reacted the complete opposite, glaring at Brant to remind him of his word.
He had to think of something. Fast. Xan would probably pretend to be a spoiled lordling or something.
“My good man, I am Sir Brant Reed, Lord of Marchess Bridge. On my honor, I assure you that both these young women were legally and properly acquired.”
“I don’t know who conned you, my lord, but no Dastanarian can travel out of the kingdom without a special permit. Not even a ‘legally and properly acquired’ slave or clerk.”
“I will not stand for this treatment!” Brant’s hand went to his hilt, but he dared not take the act too far. “Do you know how much I paid for these girls? Such skill in the bed isn’t available in my duchy, nor is it easy to find a peasant who can read and write.”
Not a hint of concern passed the man’s face.
“If you don’t allow them to pass,” Brant said. “I shall have the queen herself complain to your general!”
“I am sorry, my lord, but it cannot be done. The paperwork alone would require hours of tedious work.”
“My good man—”
“Excuse me, my lord,” Stokes said. “If I might make a suggestion?”
“Very well,” Brant said.
“Perhaps you can … compensate … this soldier for his troubles?” Stokes said. “A fee of some sort? A silver or two per girl might go a long way to cover the administrative expenses.”
The captain rubbed his chin for a moment. “Hmm … No, I’m sorry. I can’t.” He gestured for the guards.
Two stepped forward, and each of them grabbed a girl. Tatiana squealed as she was dragged away. Man, they were done for if she said anything.
“I’ll straighten this out. Soon!” Brant yelled. “Stay calm.”
“I’m sorry, my lord …” the captain said.
“Where are you taking them?” Brant snarled at the man.
“They’ll be put in the holding cells until we’re … uh … figure out what to do with them, my lord.”
Brant knew exactly what they would do with them. “Look, what’s it going to take?” He fished out one of his two remaining gold coins and walked it over his fingers like he’d seen Dylan do so many times.
The captain grinned. “Well, my lord, perhaps we can work something out.” He paused. “The fee, however, is significant. Ten gold. Each.”
“I only paid nine for the slave in the first place!”
“Nonetheless, my lord, that is the fee.”
“I’ll be honest with you,” Brant said. “I don’t have that much traveling money left. Kind of went a little wild indulging myself on the trip, you know.”
“That’s unfortunate,” the captain said. “But perhaps, some discretion can be applied. How much do you have?”
Brant winced. “Almost three triads.”
“Hmmm.” The captain frowned. “That’s not even enough for one girl …”
“Sir, please?” Brant said. “Surely a man as powerful as yourself can do something.”
The captain sighed. “Maybe, my lord, we can let it slide just this once.”
Perfect. Brant would be broke, but he was sure he and Stokes could figure out something. “Great. Return them. Now!”
“I’m sorry, my lord. You misunderstand,” the captain said. “I can let you have one girl at the lower price.”
Brant’s jaw dropped. “But …”
“One girl stays with us, my lord.” The captain shrugged. “If it helps, I can let you choose.”
Brant tried everything to get the man to change his mind, but there was no convincing him.
“Fine. I must discuss my choice with my business associates.” He paused as a thought struck him. “Can you can hold the other one for me for just a while, and I’ll return with the rest of the gold. The full seventeen?”
The captain stroked his chin. “I might could hold her for as long as a week for a, say, storage fee of one extra triad, my lord. Of course, she might be required to render … services … during that time.”
Brant would have loved to wring the little asshole’s neck but forced himself not to clench his hands into fists. He spoke through clenched teeth. “Understood.” He had no idea where to come up with eighteen gold in less than a week, but it was something at least.
“What do you think?” he said in a low tone once he’d pulled Stokes and Raleigh aside.
“Both of the girls know who we are and why we’re here, but the slave knows more about your operation in the castle,” Stokes said. “She’d do us more damage if she speaks.”
Raleigh nodded.
They had the right of it. Not to mention that Tatiana would tell all she knew to get a better deal for herself. Ivie would want to remain more low-key. Once they found out she was an escaped mage …
Of course, she wouldn’t be able to hide that forever. Not in Dastanar.
Neither choice felt right to Brant, but he was an officer. And a lord. Making hard decisions was his duty. So which girl?
He’d sworn an oath to Tatiana, and really, he owed Ivie nothing. If not for him, she’d be dead, so she was already better off because of him. But he hated to consider what would happen when they found out she was a mage. And what they’d do to her before then.
Maybe it wasn’t as bad as all that, though. Until a detector was near her, she could keep a secret. She’d just have to bear up to the life of a true slave girl for a while until he came back for her.
Brant winced. As far as he knew, Ivie had avoided doing that. Could he condemn her to that fate?
But Tatiana was the honorable choice. The best choice for the mission. The correct choice in every way. Except that Duke Asher needed all the mages he could get, right? Seemed silly to turn one over to Dastanar.
Brant nodded, relieved. That was it. He returned to the official. “I’ve decided to keep the clerk.”
63.
Ashley wiped sweat off her forehead with a cloth.
A dirty, stained cloth.
She hated dirt. And she hated sweating. A lady, much less the niskma of Vierna, should never have to sweat. But there she was standing in the middle of a parade ground surrounded by soldiers, mostly commoners, with the sun beating down on her. Again.
Day after day after day, the same thing. Test soldiers for the potential to become mages. Go to sleep. Repeat.
Okay, not every day. And she and her ladies-in-waiting were forced to work fewer hours in a day than peasants would have been, but still, she was being used like a blasted servant.
She could only hope she was regaining Queen Anna’s trust and maybe friendship. Ashley just wished that involved feasts and balls instead of what amounted to manual labor. She’d had enough.
“Break time,” she said.
Lainey had the good sense not to say anything.
“We had lunch not thirty minutes ago,” Tasia said.
“And that’s relevant because …”
Tasia scowled. “Because there are still a lot of soldiers to test. We’ll never get finished if—”
“I am the niskma, and I say we’re taking a break.” Ashley spun and adjourned to her tent, a rough canvass one supplied by the army instead of a silk one that befitted her status.
In the shade, the coolness of the day dictated over the harshness of the sun. Perfect. She sat and sipped water a serving girl had rushed to give her.
“It couldn’t have been Xan,” Lainey said, entering the tent beside Tasia.
“You two are still going on about that?” Ashley said.
“It’s important,” Tasia said. “There hasn’t been a blast since the Wizard’s War. It’s been on everyone’s tongue since a bird brought the message.”
“Exactly my point,” Ashley said. “What’s the use of talking about it?”
“It was at Eye Lake, my lady,” Lainey said. “What does that mean? An attack by Dastanar?”
Ashley scowled. She’d been rebuffed every time she tried to talk to the queen about it. Bah!
“Better if it were Xan,” Tasia said. “Otherwise, he might have been killed. And it would mean there’s another blighter loose.”
“Oh, by the Holy One!” Ashley yelled. “Enough!”
Tasia gave her a dirty look.
“A blast is a weapon,” Ashley said. “Weapons are for using when necessary. I’m sure it was him, and he probably had a good reason for it.”
“But a blast, my lady! Do you think he’s okay?”
“We’re still sensing constant magic use there, aren’t we?” Ashley said.
The number of mages Xan must have recruited to perform so much and so often astounded her. She wished she could get closer to discern details.
Tasia nodded. “Yes, but—”
“Back to work,” Ashley said.
Anything was better than ceaseless prattling, even having to lay hands on an endless stream of smelly commoners. She groaned, though, when she exited the tent. Her line had only gotten longer while she was on break, the longest of the three despite her obvious distaste. Not that the men didn’t like Tasia and, to a lesser extent, Lainey, but come on. Her.
The price of being so beautiful.
The task was not only demeaning and tiring but also largely fruitless. Most soldiers took at least ten minutes, and each yielded a tiny chance of having magic ability. Out of just under half the queen’s five-thousand-man army, they’d only discovered fourteen mages, which, according to Lainey, was more than they should have. Meaning that their chances of finding more in the remaining men decreased. Or not. She’d went on and on about something like random distribution or some such, and Ashley’s eyes had glazed.
A soldier no older than her gazed at her expectantly as the first man in line.
She sighed. “Well, come on, then.”
He stuttered out a “Yes, my lady.”
Good grief but the queen was taking them fresh from the farm.
Ashley took his hand. “Pick up a rock, throw it, and concentrate on its motion.”
Nothing.
“Think about your feet pressing against the ground.”
Nothing.
“You had lunch a little while ago?”
Gryphon (Rise of the Mages Book 2) Page 35