She snorted. “That so? Seems I recall horses being among that herd of animals gave me and my men a good trample, or am I wrong?”
“No,” he said, “you’re not wrong. It’s just…well, the price they want for them is, I’m afraid, more than my companions and I can afford.”
The woman nodded thoughtfully. “I see. And the problem with the guide?”
“Well, it seems that none of the people who live here have been to the capital before.”
“Huh, imagine that,” she said dryly. She considered him for a moment then gave a firm nod. “Fine, that settles it. I’ll do it.”
Tesler frowned. “Do…what?”
She winked. “We can talk about all of that later, huh? Maybe after you buy me dinner. But just now, I mean that I’ll help you and your friends. I’ll be your guide. It’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
Tesler blinked, surprised. “Um…no. I hadn’t…thought that…”
She laughed. “You know what? I think I even believe you. Anyway, my offer remains—I’ll help you.”
“But…why? I mean…don’t you want to be getting back to your…friends?”
She snorted, shaking her head. “I’d call those bastards a lot of things—and I don’t doubt they’d have a few more to call me—but ‘friend’ isn’t among them. Anyway, how long have I been here?”
“Three days.”
She let out a low whistle. “So long? No, by now they will have found someone else to lead them—that bastard Palder comes to mind. He’s been angling for my spot for some time.”
“But…that doesn’t seem…very loyal.”
She gave a soft laugh. “You’re cute. And no, you’re right, it isn’t very loyal, but then…they’re criminals, aren’t they?”
Tesler blinked. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course I am,” she agreed. “Anyway, I expect that you and your friends know what’s happening at the capital? The whole it being attacked by the undead thing?”
“Yes,” he said, “it…it’s sort of why we’re going.”
“Well, sure. Why not? Though, if I might make a suggestion, I’d bring some of those killer chickens along—they did a number on my men, that much is sure.”
“But…I still don’t understand,” Tesler said. “Why would you help us?”
She considered that then gave a soft shrug. “Who knows? Maybe it’s because I’m a sucker for a pretty face,” she said, grinning. “Or maybe it’s my way of saying thanks, you know, for not finishing what that old bastard started while I was unconscious. I could say either, and I think there’d be some truth to both. The biggest reason, though, is that while the villagers haven’t killed me yet—a wonder in itself—that doesn’t mean they won’t try to soon enough. After all, I somehow doubt I’m their favorite person just now.”
Tesler winced, recalling some of the shouting he’d heard from down below over the last few days as the villagers had threatened to force their way up to her room only to be met at the stairs by Fedder. “No…no, I don’t think you are.”
“Right,” she agreed, “so, you see, I’d rather not hang around until they decide to start a fire and use me as kindling. Better if I go with you and your friends, better for me and better for you.” She smiled. “Everyone wins.”
Tesler found himself thinking of Mariana. The woman had spoken little to him over the last few days, and every time he tried to talk to her she largely ignored him, at best giving him single-word answers. She was angry, that much he knew, and her anger had something to do with the bandit woman, though what that was, he couldn’t have said. He doubted very much if she would be excited by the prospect of the woman guiding them, but then it wasn’t as if they were spoiled for choice. “I’ll talk to the others.”
“Very good,” the woman said. “I’ll be here, relaxing and hoping that the villagers don’t decide to start that fire. Oh!” She paused, holding out her hand, “My name is Arabelle, by the way.”
He took the hand and was surprised by the softness of it. “I thought they called you Oleander?”
She snorted. “A name I made up, deadly and all that. Arabelle is my real name.”
He nodded. “I’m…Tesler.”
She gave him a smile, wincing as she shifted in the bed and took her hand away. “Come back soon, okay, Tesler? Otherwise, I might have to dream you…” She paused, smiling. “Maybe I’ll do that anyway.”
Tesler’s face flushed, and he cleared his throat, made some sound that might have been loosely-construed as an agreement, then retreated to the door, hurrying out and closing it shut behind him. On the other side, he let out a heavy breath, felt his face heat even further as he heard a laugh from the other side of the door.
Women, Tesler decided, were scary. Mariana, of course, with her scowls—of which she seemed to have an unending variety—as well as her sharp, biting remarks. But the bandit leader—Arabelle, she said her name was Arabelle—was also scary, although in a very different way.
There was chittering from his shoulder that drew his attention, and he turned to regard Maela, the squirrel goddess, perched on his shoulder. “I wasn’t…I didn’t ogle her.”
More chittering, and he sighed. “Fine…perhaps…a little ogling.”
What sounded almost like a low bark at that and what he knew—from having known the goddess for as long as he had—was her version of a laugh. He listened as she spoke—lectured, really—focusing on not rolling his eyes. For while he had learned in their association that squirrel goddesses loved their lectures they—like the more mundane versions of the creatures—also enjoyed gnawing on things. Squirrel goddesses, though, were considerably better at it than their furry kin. “The easiest nuts are rarely worth the effort?” he said when she’d finished. “What does that even mean?” Another chuffing, barking laugh. “You know what?” he said. “I don’t want to know.”
And with that, he started downstairs to speak to Fedder, Dannen, and Mariana about the woman’s offer. True, Mariana was angry at him, and a trip down to the common room meant that he would be forced to weather her stares—and, likely, her cutting remarks—but when she bit his head off she, at least, could only do it figuratively.
***
“I guess, maybe we could just…” Fedder shrugged. “I don’t know. Head out, see if we can find the capital ourselves?”
Mariana hissed. “That’s your plan? Just start walking and see if we get lucky and happen to stumble on a particular city in the entire north, also hoping, I might add, that we somehow avoid stumbling on the undead armies that are apparently running rampant all over the damned place?”
Dannen winced. The woman wasn’t particularly amiable at the best of times—made a man understand why she’d gotten into the assassin business in the first place—and since the fighting off of the bandits, particularly Tesler’s subsequent tending of the bandit leader, she had been even more abrasive than usual. Abrasive but, unfortunately, right.
Fedder, though, wasn’t finished. “Well,” the mage said, frowning, “might not have a guide, but surely the villagers know the general direction, at least enough to get us started.”
“Oh, that’s great,” Mariana snapped, “when the undead kill us we’ll at least be in the general area of the capital. Who knows, maybe we’ll even get close enough that they can bury us in the capital’s cemetery—likely they’ve got the room as most of the usual residents are up walking around, you know, killing people.”
Dannen sighed. They’d been sitting this way for the last hour, perhaps more, and had had this same conversation at least twice, not to mention the times they’d had it over the last few days. Yet, for all their talk—most of it angry curses—they were no closer to finding a solution to their problem than they had been on the first day. Some problems, unfortunately, simply didn’t have solutions.
“Mariana’s right,” Dannen said for at least for the third time, “we can’t just go fumbling around the north hoping to stumble on the capital. There’s no telling where we
’d end up.”
And following that grim pronouncement they all went silent—also for at least for the third time—sipping their drinks or, in the case of Fedder, turning their mugs upright as if they were in a race. Which made it much easier to hear when the people crowding the common room abruptly broke into loud, raucous cheering.
Dannen frowned, looking around for the source of the sudden celebration and caught sight of it a moment later as he noticed Tesler. The young man stood halfway down the stairs, frozen, his face red, as a common room full of people clapped and cheered, staring at him as if he were some great hero out of a storybook.
He didn’t look like a hero, though, so much as he did an animal caught in a trap, one that wanted nothing but to turn around and flee. Several young women started forward, all speaking to him at once and shouldering each other aside as they fought for his attention, the young man staring wide-eyed with clearly no idea how to respond.
Dannen sighed, rising. “Best I go save him.”
Fedder grunted, eyeing the young women. “You ever catch me in a situation like that, Butcher, you keep your savin’ to yourself, alright?”
Mariana said nothing, at least not with words, preferring instead to let her feelings be known in an angry hiss. Dannen ignored them both, starting toward the young man and having to push himself through the crowd to reach him. When Tesler noticed him, he let out a heavy sigh, an obvious expression of relief on his face. “Dannen,” he said, “thank the gods you’re here. I don’t…I’m not sure…”
“Relax, lad,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder. “This is what happens when you take it in mind to save an entire village from a bandit attack.” He turned back to the common room—and all its expectant faces—with a smile, “Sorry, everyone, but the young hero is quite tired and just needs a drink.” Another raucous cheer at that and Dannen held up a hand to keep the young women—all of whom had started forward—at bay. “Alone, I’m afraid,” he said.
The women were visibly crestfallen at that, the men sitting at the tables—who, up to that point, had been scowling with obvious jealousy at Tesler, considerably less so—and, in another few moments, the crowd began to disperse. When they had, Tesler winced, looking at Dannen. “Thanks.”
Dannen gave him a smile. “Least I can do for a hero of your status. Now, come on—I wasn’t lying about the drink. If I’ve ever met a man looks like he needs an ale, you’re him.”
As they walked, Dannen was forced to wave away several of the man’s more persistent fans, all of whom were young women who were eager to thank him. Eventually, though, they reached the table and here, at least, the man did not have to worry about being accosted by a woman’s affections. After all, the only woman there was Mariana, and with her angry scowl and narrowed eyes she looked far more ready to knife the young man than bed him, but there was the benefit that her angry, forbidding look served to keep even the most eager of the young man’s fans away.
“Damn, lad,” Fedder said, “with all the attention you’re gettin’, I’m thinkin’ of beddin’ you myself.”
Dannen winced, glancing at Mariana and expecting her to make some joke at his and the mage’s expense but—fortunately or unfortunately, he couldn’t have said—he’d never seen anyone who looked less in danger of having a laugh anytime soon.
Tesler cleared his throat, “Um…hi. Everyone,” he said as he perched on the seat of an empty chair as if he might need to get up and run at any moment which, judging by the expression on Mariana’s face, might well have been the case.
“So His Highness has finally decided to grace us with his presence then,” Mariana said.
“Sorry,” Tesler said, wincing, “I’ve been…um…busy.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” Mariana snapped. “From what I see, that woman would be more than willing to keep you busy.”
Fedder let out a laugh, but quickly silenced at a glare from Dannen. Tesler looked confused. “But…that is…she needed help.”
“She needed help,” Mariana repeated, her eyes narrowing further. “The leader of the bandits who tried to kill us.”
Dannen decided it was time to change the subject. “Anyway,” he said into the tense silence, “we’ve just been sitting here trying to find a guide and some horses. No luck, unfortunately.”
Tesler nodded slowly. “I…I might have an answer for that,” he said carefully.
Dannen frowned and was about to ask him what he meant, but Fedder beat him to it. “Well?” he said. “Out with it, lad! If I have to spend one more day in this shithole I’m likely to do the undead’s job for them.”
Dannen winced as several of the common room’s nearest patrons frowned. “What do you mean, Tesler?”
The young man glanced at Mariana and visibly paled, clearing his throat. “Well…I mean, that is…Arabelle has offered to guide us.”
Fedder grunted, asking the question that was on Dannen’s mind. “Who is Arabelle? One of these farmer’s daughters?”
“Um…no,” Tesler said, studying the table as if he meant to divine some secret from it. “It…that is, Arabelle is the name of the bandit leader.”
Dannen blinked. Fedder laughed. And Mariana…Mariana seethed. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she hissed. “You mean to tell me that you want us to trust the bandit leader—the person who accepted money to kill us—to guide us to the capital? Are you a complete fool? Or is it just that you fancy her that much, would like to have her easily at hand?”
Tesler had no answer, his face growing red and white by turns, and Dannen felt for the young man. He’d stumbled into a snake pit without knowing it. Never mind the fact that he should have known it, should have seen it coming, for certainly Dannen had and—judging by the look of eager excitement on the mage’s face—so, too, had Fedder. As Tesler began to squirm and Mariana continued to scowl, Dannen told himself that only a fool would get involved. The young man had stumbled into a snake pit by accident—it would take a special kind of idiot to jump in voluntarily. But then, he was a fool. Certainly, no one had ever claimed otherwise. So, he took a deep pull of his ale.
“This could work,” he said, which had the not-particularly-pleasing effect of shifting Mariana’s scowl from Tesler to him.
“You can’t be serious,” the woman said, a look on her face as if he had just betrayed her—which, he supposed, in her mind, at least, he had.
“What is it, lass?” Fedder said, still wearing his fool grin. “Scared of the competition?”
Dannen glared at the man and held up a placating hand to Mariana. “What Fedder means to say, Mariana, is that we don’t exactly have a lot of options here.”
“Except the lad,” Fedder offered, still grinning, and Dannen considered the ramifications of slinging his half-empty ale mug at the man’s head and decided against it—barely.
“You said yourself,” Dannen went on, “we can’t go on, not without a guide.”
“She’s also said she’ll pay for the horses,” Tesler offered, pointedly avoiding Mariana’s gaze.
“Well, sure,” Fedder went on, “seems like a woman likes to take a ride—”
“Anyway,” Dannen growled, “that just makes my point. We can’t afford to pay for the horses—gods, the only reason we can afford to drink this ale is because it’s free, and I’m thinking even that bit of hospitality is going to wear out soon enough. If the woman has offered to guide us and pay for the horses…I don’t really see a way we can turn her down. Do you?”
Silence then as emotions—mostly anger—chased their way across the woman’s face. Finally, she let out an angry hiss. “Fine—do what you want,” she said rising. “I’m going to my room. Just don’t blame me when we all wake up with our throats cut.”
And with that, she turned and stalked toward the stairs, looking like nothing so much as trouble searching for a victim.
“We won’t blame you, lass!” Fedder called after her, then he turned back to Dannen. “We couldn’t—not with our throats bein’ cut,
could we?”
“Probably wouldn’t wake at all,” Tesler muttered.
Dannen stared at the two of them for several seconds then reached for his ale.
“Thank you, Dannen,” Tesler said.
Dannen shook his head. “Don’t thank me yet, lad. Still plenty of time to get your throat slit, though if you ask me, I doubt it’s this Arabelle is the one most likely to be doing the slitting.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Before they set out from the village, Dannen had believed that’d he had some general idea about just how terrible the trip was going to be—namely, bad. In a right-thinking world, a man might have been forgiven for thinking that an almost certainly suicidal trip to fight against a master swordsman and his necromancer brother—not to mention the gods alone knew how many of their undead minions—couldn’t get any worse. But that man would have been wrong. And for all Dannen’s own thoughts on the matter—mostly grim ones—even he fell short of the mark.
The morning was spent in a tense, uncomfortable silence. At least for Dannen, and he doubted Tesler would argue. The pitiable young man spent the day trying to avoid Mariana’s narrowed-eyed scowls with—judging by the way his shoulders grew more hunched over the course of the day—little success. Neither was he successful in avoiding the flirtatious smiles and winks—and more than a few lewd comments—from the bandit leader, Arabelle, each of which served to estimably increase the severity of Mariana’s scowls, a fact he doubted the other woman missed.
In short, it was the tensest social situation Dannen had found himself in the midst of in some time, and that coming from a man who, not so long ago, had had dinner with—and nearly been the dinner of—a bridge troll.
Fedder alone seemed immune to the uncomfortableness of the situation, but Dannen told himself that could only be because the man was a complete fool or, just as likely, that all of his attention was focused on trying to stay on top of his mount. A poor, tortured beast that, though it was the largest of their horses, looked almost comically small beneath the mage’s prodigious mass. Not that anything struck Dannen as particularly comical just then.
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