Serpent's Blood

by Brian Stableford

  For the sergeant, sorry was a token expression of sympathy | which, roughly translated, meant it serves you right you stupid bastard what the rotting hell did you expect'? The news that had occasioned this particular sorry was that two more of the men had vanished, reducing the strength of the company-if it could any longer be dignified by such a name to ten, including one officer, one sergeant and one man not yet completely recovered from a broken leg.

  t

  "Why did they wait until now?" Jacom said wonderingly.

  "I

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  understand well enough why they'd prefer to take their chances living as outlaws in Xandria, where they've got families, but why come all the way to Khalorn before deciding to desert? "

  "These two didn't have wives or children," Purkin told him.

  "I guess they just found . . . well, other alternatives."

  "We've only been here three days!"

  The sergeant shrugged his broad shoulders. He didn't have to say anything more. Jacom knew only too well that the three days hadn't been at all productive, from his own point of view. He had talked to the governor, the leader of the local militia, the city's chief constable, a couple of local merchants who knew his father, and everyone else who was willing to talk to him. He had waved his royal warrant around as though it were some magical incantation of awesome power. He had waxed lyrical on the subject of the awful dangers threatening an innocent princess and the undoubted munificence of King Belin's gratitude to anyone who assisted in her recovery. He had thrown out dire hints as to the dreadful efficiency and passionate nasty-mindedness of the king's secret agents, and the tortures available for the punishment of anyone caught giving succour to thieves, kidnappers and people in possession of freshly minted coins.

  The only result of all this activity had been a visit from one of the king's secret agents- or, at any rate, a man who claimed to be one of the king's secret agents warning him to cease and desist from use of the last-named strategy.

  "There's a big amber over there," Purkin said idly.

  "I don't suppose.

  . ? "

  "There's another," Jacom pointed out.

  "And another. The city's full of big dark landers -- not to mention small and medium-sized ones. The local constables seem infinitely more anxious about the number of dark landers in town than the possibility that Checuti and his men have brought several barrel-loads of fresh coin from Xandria. In fact, if I were to try to think of a word to fit their attitude to the second possibility, anxiety is not one which would spring readily to mind. Anyway, none of them is quite big enough. Andris Myrasol was very big. About the same size as one Burdam Thrid, if I remember rightly."

  "Just about, sir," Purkin echoed, stiffly unappreciative of Jacom's sarcasm.

  l')5

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  "Look, Purkin," Jacpm said tiredly- deliberately neglecting the correct term of address- "I understand how the men feel. I understand how you feel.

  You all blame me for getting us kicked out of Xandria, and you all blame me for the fact that our so-called mission seems to be a wild goose chase. The princess is probably dead and buried by now, and Checuti has so many friends in this rotting province that the chances of anyone lifting a finger to help us find him are pretty damn slim. I don't blame the men who deserted, and I won't blame you or Herriman or Luca or Kim or anyone else if you or they did likewise. You don't owe me anything. If you want to go home, go home."

  "No, sir," said Purkin wearily.

  "I wasn't thinkin' of going', sir. For one thing, my wife's a harridan and my sons are full-grown. For another I've worn the uniform far too long to think of throwin' it away at my time of life. On top o' that, a sergeant's supposed to look ; after a young officer, an' when the officer falls arse over tit he's supposed to pick him up an' set him right, sir, not ship out an' turn I bandit. As for the men, sir, the ones we got left are the ones who'll ^ stick it out to the end. You can depend on them, sir. I guarantee it." . j' Jacom knew that when Purkin said stick it out to the end he didn't necessarily mean that they'd stick to the mission forced upon them by the king until the princess was successfully recovered. He meant that they'd stick to whatever task he Purkin ^ decided on. The ten remaining men were loyal, but they were | loyal to their sergeant rather than their captain or their king. Even so, Jacom had no alternative but to say

  "Thank you', and try his best to sound as if he meant it.

  "You're welcome, sir," the sergeant assured him.

  Herriman came hurrying towards them then, from the marketplace. His leg was out of plaster now but he was still on light duties, and although he didn't exactly limp there was something curiously tentative about the way he walked.

  "Got these in change while buying supplies, sir," he said, showing Jacom a handful of coins which were obviously no more than fifteen days old.

  "Three from the third flour merchant on the right, the rest from the fat pork butcher."

  "Thanks, Herriman," Jacom said un enthusiastically

  "I'll be sure to report it."

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  coins

  circulating in the marketplace Jacom had reported it- in fact, he'd taken the news all the way to the governor, who had been totally unimpressed by their evidential value.

  "Whatever you may think in Xandria," the governor had said loftily, 'a city does not need a high and phenomenally expensive wall in order to be prosperous and civilised. You may think of us as mere provincials, but we do not trade exclusively in debased and rotten coin. Our money is as sound as anyone's. "

  "That's not the point," Jacom had said.

  "These coins are freshly minted and they carry the king's crest. The entire stock of coin re minted for Thanksgiving was stolen every last one. These must have been stolen. Checuti must be somewhere in the province, and the trader who passed these on must be able to set us on a trail that will lead straight back to him."

  "Our cunning men have ways of keeping the king's coinage fresh," the governor had assured him.

  "In profligate and decadent Xandria such arts have probably been forgotten, but we are careful folk. There is no reason whatsoever to assume that these coins were stolen from the citadel of Xandria. I believe, however, that your master's so-called secret agents are busy following half a dozen so-called trails with an assiduousness that does them great credit. You are more than welcome to do likewise."

  It was at this juncture that Jacom had realised he wasn't going to get much help from local officialdom, and that his royal warrant probably wasn't worth the paper it was written on. By now, he had thoroughly learned the grim lesson that a man has precious few true friends even ar the best of rimes, and a man in trouble would be very fortunate to find even one.

  "There's your friend Carus Fraxinus," Purkin said. He emphasised the word friend very slightly, almost as if he had read Jacom's thoughts, but he wasn't being ironic. He knew as well as Jacom did that Fraxinus was their only real hope of getting sound information about Checuti's whereabouts, or a reliable rumour about the continued well-being or otherwise- of Princess Lucrezia. Fraxinus was always busily out and about, very often in the marketplace. He was very well known in the exchanges where the factors struck big deals, and was always gossiping therein, while his associate Aulakh Phar - who seemed to Jacom to be a far shadier character always seemed to be among the stalls, deep in i97

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  conversation with the petty dealers in

  exotica whose coats were full of vials, jars alWpouches.
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  "He don't look too pleased, sir," Herriman muttered. Jacom had to agree.

  Fraxinus looked worried. Although his caravan was now fully kit ted out- if two wagons and a dozen donkeys could really be reckoned a full kit for a thousand-kim journey- Fraxinus had been forced to delay his departure because Hyry Keshvara still hadn't put in an appearance, and the confused rum ours which were pouring out of the forest along with hordes of apprehensive dark landers obviously did not bode well for the chances of a trouble-free passage to and through the Dragomite Hills.

  "Have you had any luck. Captain?" Fraxinus asked, as he reached the little group of guardsmen.

  "Not yet, sir," Jacom told him, employing the same formal mode for the sake of keeping up appearances in front of the men.

  "I've no doubt that Checuti and the stolen coin are somewhere in the region, but there's no clue as to the possible whereabouts of the princess. I take it Keshvara has still not arrived?"

  ,t

  "Alas, no. We shall have to set forth without her. I can't delay || any further, now that I've arrahged delivery of so much food. The ji, caravan must leave tomorrow, come what may- bur such a train I travels at the pace of the slowest donkey, and Keshvara ought to be I able to catch up if she arrives after we've gone. I fear, though, that whatever misfortune has overtaken her has been worse than commonplace, else she'd surely have sent a message to tell us why she's been delayed." , "Has Phar managed to find a mapmaker in the town?" Jacom asked.

  "My noble host the governor is always telling me that the outlying provinces have taken far more care to preserve the ancient Arts than complacent and decadent Xandria."

  "I'm afraid not," Fraxinus said good-humouredly.

  "The governor's fulsome praise of his province is, I fear, wildly exaggerated. He longs to be in Xandria, where true civilisation is, and it's the fact that duty holds him so securely here that causes him to wax lyrical as to the imagined advantages of such a fate."

  "That's the kindest interpretation of his attitude," Jacom said sourly.

  "Sometimes, his stern defence of Khalorn sounds suspiciously close to treason."

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  Fraxinus shook his head. There mention of the word "decadent" , however frequent, doesn't signify a rebellious attitude. Khalorn needs Xandria far more than Xandria needs Khalorn; that's why tax revenues flow in one direction rather than the other. The governor knows that and his people know it too. "

  "There seems to be a prodigious counterflow of revenues at present,"

  Jacom pointed out. The market place is full of freshly minted coin, as you've doubtless observed. "

  "Yes, it does seem that some of Checuti's booty is already in circulation.

  It's hardly surprising-money rots like everything else, and is better spent quickly than hoarded."

  Fraxinus spoke these words in a perfectly normal tone of voice, nodding his head as though to compliment his own wisdom, but Jacom saw that his slightly narrowed eyes were darting this way and that, as if to see who might be listening to them. Without waiting for any reply to his comments, the merchant reached out to clasp Jacom by the hand.

  "But I shall have to say goodbye now, captain," he said.

  "I must see to the packing of my supplies and the gathering of my men. We shall be on our way before tomorrow's dawn and we shall not have the chance to meet again for a year and more. I wish you the best of luck with your search for the missing princess. Give my best regards to the governor."

  Jacom had sufficient presence of mind to give not the slightest indication that Fraxinus had pressed a small folded square of paper into his palm while they shook hands.

  "I've been very grateful for your company on the road, Carus Fraxinus," he said, raising his voice (just a little.

  "I wish you all good fortune in your own enterprise, and I hope to see you again some day- if not next year, the year after."

  Fraxinus smiled, and walked away with a farewell flourish of his right arm.

  If the two soldiers noticed that anything unusual had occurred they too had the sense to keep quiet about it. Jacom made no attempt to look at the piece of paper immediately, but made what haste he could to retire to the lavatories in the Corn Exchange. As an officer in the king's guard he was entitled to the use of the very best suite, and he took full advantage of his rank. When the door of the cubicle was securely bolted he sat down on the covered pan and carefully unfolded the i99

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  fragile note, written jn/soft

  pencil.

  We are both being watched, it said. Some of the watchers are the king's men, some are not; you would be wise to trust no one. Checuti will be nearby tonight. The princess might be with him, if she still lives. You will need all your cleverness if you are to persuade him to give her up or tell you where she might be found. Gather your men behind the lodge in the Great Park at the thirty- second hour. A man will come to guide you, with the password drago mite I beg you never to tell anyone that I have helped you in this.

  Jacom knew what to do in such a situation; he had heard many stories in which secret messages of exactly this kind turned around the fortunes of heroes whose exploits had brought them to an impasse. He read the words three times, to make certain that he had them memorised; then he crushed the note in his fist and rolled it between his fingers until he had reduced it to pulp. He stood up, lifted the cover on which he had been sitting, and threw the note into the pan.

  He made full use of the facility before flushing, to be absolutely sure that no one else would ever read the message.

  The chain broke as he released it, but such things were ever wont to happen, even in the best-maintained establishments. He gave the broken end to the long-suffering attendant as he left, and tried not to take offence at a mattered reference to 'ham-handed soldiers with shir for brains', ^ven though it was clearly intended for him to overhear. ; Reputations are a funny thing, he thought with Carus Fraxinus in mind rather than soldiers. What kind of world do we live in, where help in the apprehension of villains has to be rendered underhandedly? What future has the empire, if the most worthy actions of its citizens have to be kept secret for fear of ruining an honest merchant's reputation for dealing fairly with unreliable place men He did not care to wonder overmuch about the discreet timing of the communication, although he did realise that Fraxinus would almost certainly be gone from Khalorn by the time he returned from his own expedition in search of the elusive Checuti. He preferred to fix his thoughts on the possibility that he might, after all, have a chance of redeeming himself in the eyes of King Belin, the Prince-Commander, his few remaining men and his file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Brian%20Stableford%20-%20Serpents%20Blood.TXT (203 of 495) [11/1/2004 12:26:21 AM]

  father ~ not to

  mention the lovely Princess Lucrezia. However slim that chance might be, it was as welcome to him as a draught of cool, sweet water to a man dying of thirst in The hot heart of the Spangled Desert.

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  C-pHESE aren't mapmaker's colours," Andris complained Jl defensively, after inspecting the array of pigments which Aulakh Phar had laid out for him.

  "This brush isn't the right kind either- and this lining pen is in a dreadful state."

  "It's the best I could do at such short notice," said the man who sat on the opposite side of the table.

  "If you can convince me of the need I'll gladly see what I can do to get better equipment but we're supposed to be leaving before dawn and I have a thousand other things to see to. I took a big risk in coming here, you know the king's men are searching everywhere for you, and they're keeping close watch on Fraxinus in case you should try to contac
t him. I'm sorry the tools aren't ideal, but if you can just do enough with them to convince me that you really are a mapmaker- and I have reason enough to be sceptical after some of the offers I have had these last forty days I'll be glad to make arrangements to meet you again at some safe place in the forest. Once we're away from a thousand prying eyes, we can haggle to our hearts' content over equipment, wages and conditions of employment."

  "I'm only saying that these aren't the instruments I was taught to use,"

  Andris protested sullenly.

  "Map-drawing is something 1 learned to do by rote, the way all children learn their lore. I never believed my tutors when they told me what a good form of mental discipline it was, but that's the spirit in which I learned it- as a series of mechanical actions. If I don't have the right equipment, the maps won't turn out right. I'll get confused."

  What Andris was really worried about, of course, was that once Aulakh Phar had seen a map of the Navel of the World he might become markedly less interested in hiring and hiding a wanted man. Caution inclined him to make a bargain beforehand, and- if possible to collect a down-payment in advance.

  Aulakh Phar,

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  alas, was equally cautious and equally determined not to part with a penny. Merel Zabio had easily persuaded him to arrange a meeting but the old man was obviously not convinced that there was any safe ground left in the province. He was almost as nervous as Andris was, although he had selected the inn in whose cramped attic they were now sitting.

  "You must have talked to Fraxinus about this," Merel put in.

  "He saw Andris in the jail- he can vouch for his credentials."

  "No he can't," Phar said contemptuously.

  "He never saw you draw a map, did he? Anyway, it's me you're dealing with, not Carus. I don't need every last detail just draw me the outlines, in any colours you like, and name the major features. If it tallies well enough with what I already know, you're in. If not frankly I don't want you within five kirns of the caravan. The king's men can make plenty of trouble for us yet, if they've a mind to, and we've trouble enough ahead of us if a tenth of what the dark landers say can be trusted."