by Chogan Swan
“Why en't anyone waking up?” asked the third.
In reply, the first sentry sat and slumped. “'s too late,” he said.
For a minute the last two sentries tried to wake him then they rushed around trying to wake up everyone, anyone. Their cursing and shouting grew slower and slower. Then, they too collapsed.
Kane cleared his throat—weary of coughing—and Seth put down his little blowgun. Together they worked at the chains till the nails came free then they clanked their tangled way out of the cart. A large rock and a bandit's ax were sufficient to remove the chains from the shackles. The leg irons though, were too close to the flesh—having been pounded cold around their legs and riveted with heavy pins. It would take long hours to knock the rivets off and pry the irons apart, but they’d wait till they found their weapons first.
They pursued their tasks with little discussion; it felt like they might rouse the bandits if they made too much noise. Seth had to move one of them to search the baggage—he kept on snoring. So few ever woke from the bite of the dust krait, the distinction between sleep and death didn't matter.
At last, they found their belongings in a crude box. They put on their clothes and gathered provisions: dried meat, fruit and venison the bandits hadn't eaten at supper. Most of the coin and valuables had gone with the leaders, but Kane filled their purses from the pockets of the rest.
They ate their fill of the meat then took turns dozing by the fire until dawn. If the other group of bandits returned, they would hear the horses coming in plenty of time to hide.
When morning came, Seth and Alaina split most of Kane's gear between their packs, but the bard insisted on carrying his own weapons and lute.
“There are the two horses, still,” said Alaina. “We could move faster if one carried Kane.”
Seth shook his head. “Sorry, Kane, we can't risk the tracks they'd leave. They’d be impossible to cover in this terrain, and we’ll climb to Brandek Pass in a few days anyway. Donkeys are the only pack animals that can make that climb with a load.”
“I think riding one of those nags would be more painful for me than walking anyway,” Kane said.
Seth freed the two skin-and-bones horses. The ox continued cropping the new spring grass, and the horses trotted away through the woods. One even managed a feeble, but sincere, buck-and-kick it must have remembered from friskier times.
Seth sighed as they trotted out of sight.
They broke a chisel before their riveted ankle-irons came free, but they felt better with them gone.
Seth looked at the bandits strewn around the camp. They no longer seemed to be only sleeping; death would walk here soon. “Have mercy on their souls,” he whispered. “And mine,” he added after a moment. Then, without looking back, they shouldered their packs, leaving the cart-path to plunge into the forest. It seemed strange and stiff walking again.
The ox looked after them for a long moment, bellowed once in the sad, enigmatic way of his kind and turned back to grazing.
Seth scratched his hair, clotted with straw and dirt.
He stank in his own nostrils, and no one else smelled any better.
Chapter 11 (The Pass)
The children tending the scruffy, village goats hurried to get their herds off the hillsides and into the folds. In the spring, Brandek Pass falls under the shadow of the surrounding peaks by the end of the afternoon. The sun now stood a hand's breadth above Oolferuk. It would be dark soon and unwise to chase strays. So far, a fall down any of the crevasses around the pass remained a journey with only one direction.
Young wives and older children gathered in the wash. In the mountain air, it had been dry for hours, but clothes and sheets smelled better with time in the sun. The guard at the garrison changed soon, and the relieved troops would be straggling into the town's single inn.
Five mounted Tarrian lancers trotted into the town from the road that wound up the pass to the north. In the gathering dusk, they almost ran down three, cloaked travelers coming from the south.
The soldiers ignored them as they leapt for safety, but when one reached under a cloak—as though for a sword—they reined in, looking them over with alert eyes.
The tallest traveler, a rakish fellow, bowed and greeted them with flawless Tarrian. “Hail, sirs. Is there a healer in this village? Our companion is suffering from an ailing hip, and any sudden movement seems to put the joint into spasms.”
A moan from one of them reinforced this claim though it was unclear from whom it came.
The squad leader frowned, looking toward town. His growling stomach and his parched throat settled the matter. It wasn't worth the wait. “Ask a villager, fool,” he snapped and spurred his horse. His men followed.
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Kane turned to Alaina. “You've been doing things like that since we entered Tarrian territory. When is your head going to catch up with your temper?”
“Come on,” Seth said, stepping in before she could answer. “We're all hungry and tired, and that usually means irritable. Let's take care of the causes, not the symptoms.”
“All the same,” Alaina said. “I wouldn't have regretted teaching manners to those clods. They almost ran us down. What if there’d been children on the road?”
“I expect children around here know better,” Seth said.
“Just don't draw so much attention to yourself,” Kane said with a moan. “It will cause trouble if you slice up the local troops.”
With relief, Seth caught sight of the tavern. A big man in an apron hung a lantern from a hook on the signpost. Bed and Board, the sign proclaimed,.
Without a word, the trio headed for the light. As they drew closer, inviting odors and sounds of rattling cutlery spilled from the open door. Seth moved to a table in the back—away from the lights—with only a quick look around the room, since standing in the doorway would be conspicuous.
A central hearth and crude oil lamps, scattered about on the crossbeams, lit the room. No one payed attention as they dropped their knapsacks and removed their cloaks. Since they were the only ones in the room with swords, they hid them beneath the cloaks. In the dim light, it would be hard to distinguish the loose-wrapped swords from walking sticks, which many other patrons carried.
A group of farmers by the fireside punctuated their conversation by knocking their tankards of ale on the table as smoke from their jiisa-weed pipes filtered through the room. Seth listened for a short time to their talk, but it was all about herds and pasture so he turned his attention to the rest of the room. Many appeared to be travelers like themselves.
The tavern walls—built from the granite that covered the hillside—glinted with embedded crystals. The floors were rough planks covered with rushes, which gave off a sweet, grassy aroma. A door opened from the kitchen, and savory odors of fresh bread, spices, and stew with garlic and goat meat fought for attention. Seth's stomach growled, reminding him of priorities.
Kane glanced at the kitchen. He clearly wanted to call for service, but Seth had stressed the need to stay inconspicuous. Alaina would—no doubt—pounce on a chance to point that out after the incident on the road.
Before long, a plump woman bustled up to the table with a businesslike manner, a loaf of warm bread with butter, wooden plates and spoons.
“The stew is one doit a bowl, the ale two doits a mug, and the bread comes with the meal. If you want anything else we've got steaks, mutton, fish, and a few plump roasting hens, but we're out of pork,” she said in one practiced breath.
“Three bowls of stew, three roast hens and three mugs of ale,” Kane said. He was so well-traveled he spoke without trace of accent. Seth hoped that would keep anyone from noticing his own south-coast inflection. Though, at the moment, Seth wished he hadn't given the spokesman's part to Kane, he’d wanted fish for supper. The stew looked thick and smelled inviting though.
He tensed as three Tarrian enlistees, yelling for service, swaggered into the tavern and sat down at the table next to them.
Obviously, they expected everyone to be ready to kiss their boots on a moment’s notice. When the soldiers caught sight of Alaina, Seth sighed.
In the warm tavern, Alaina had thrown off her cloak and partway unlaced her tunic. The golden highlights in her hair gleamed in the light from the lamps. Her eyes showed just a hint of green underneath her half-raised eyelids. To the swarthy Tarrians, blond hair and olive skin seemed to hold an exotic appeal.
They stared, appearing to have forgotten about their stomachs. Seth turned to address his stew. No telling when they would get another hot meal, and it looked like they might leave here sooner than expected.
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Kane tapped a knuckle softly against the table to catch Alaina's attention. Her eyes flicked towards him but didn't open wider. The bard passed off a frantic flicker of finger-talk as a casual clearing of breadcrumbs.
Kane: Close your shirt, customs differ here.
Alaina: I'll dress as I find comfortable.
Kane sighed and began spooning stew into his mouth, following Seth's lead.
Kane shook his head. Alaina might be a good strategist, but as a traveling companion, his cousin was just too bloody-minded. They might just be able to finish supper before anything happened… so irksome. The last time he’d come through Brandek pass it hadn’t been so infested with soldiers. The small garrison at the pass hadn’t even been crowded, but now the small force of guards had expanded to several units of Tarrian regulars. He didn't like it. It looked like troop mobilization; this many soldiers only two week's march from his village made him nervous. He studied the three soldiers. They probably wouldn't do anything until they'd had a few drinks.
He bent over to whisper in Seth's ear. “Can't you do something with your covenant power to make them leave us alone?”
Seth considered, chewing a mouthful of bread and butter. “I could, but that might make us more noticeable on a more dangerous level. I prefer not taking the risk, like the man in the corner on your left who’s using magic to avoid attention.”
Kane looked from the corner of his eyes, but his gaze slid away to the kitchen door before he gathered anything about the man. He cared more about whether the rest of the food would arrive soon.
“See?” Seth said with a chuckle.
Kane started. He hadn't even realized he’d been diverted.
“Don't try too hard, it will only alert him he's been found out,” warned Seth. “Then we might have another problem.”
“Then how did you notice him?” Kane asked.
“I didn't. That's what tipped me off,—since I always notice everyone—it seemed strange not to, and it was apparent.”
“I've never heard such gibberish,” Kane said haughtily.
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Seth broke off another hunk of bread, wiping his bowl clean with it. He chewed, considering his mental state. An odd sensation had started when they’d entered town, an unsettling shadow on his mind. It had gotten stronger when they entered the door of the tavern. He wished now he’d paused before coming in, but… too late now. In reality, he was more concerned than he let himself appear.
The dining area abruptly became quiet.
Seth looked up. The three Tarrian regulars were on their way towards him. They set their mugs down—with an air of smugness—pulled chairs over and sat at the empty side of the table across from Alaina.
“We would like to make the acquaintance of your woman, sirs,” said the largest. He was obviously the leader; his arms and face carried numerous cuts and scars from old battle wounds, and the ensigns on his shoulders signified he was a squad leader. He wasn’t Tarrian; his skin was lighter, and he spoke with a northern accent. The two with him were lance men, just a step above the normal rank and file.
Alaina stared at the squad leader with eyes like twin chips of smoky jade. If the squad leader knew what Seth did about her speed and her current temper, he’d have wished himself a good deal further away than he was.
“A woman with spirit,” the squad leader remarked with delight. “We will pay you well.” Under the table Alaina's hand moved towards the sword she had left within arm's reach, but Kane trapped it against her leg.
Seth cleared his throat, about to suggest they come back to discuss the matter after they’d eaten. But, when the squad leader turned to him, Seth cut his words short.
It is unsettling to see recognition on a total stranger's face, and Seth's mind started a rapid swirl trying to place the man in his history. He came up with nothing. He’d never seen the man, but the squad leader seemed to know him, and his face filled with chagrin like a whipped dog's.
“I apologize, sir,” he said jumping to attention. Puzzled, the two lancemen copied him. “Forgive the intrusion; I didn't recognize you in this light. Should I mention you are here to the captain of the garrison? He wasn’t expecting you for another month.”
“I'd rather you didn't, squad leader,” Seth said, putting a hint of threat in his voice.
“Understood, sir,” said the squad leader. He took a step back then turned to leave, almost marching out the door. His lance men followed—close behind but puzzled.
“I must be someone important,” Seth muttered to himself.
Kane looked at him. “What was that about?”
“One of the drawbacks of being royalty. You never know when you've been recognized. If that's what it was...” Seth replied, frowning. Though they’d just avoided what might have become a nasty situation, he felt more threatened now. He glanced around the room. The people in the tavern avoided looking at them. The iron fist of Tarr ruled here, and it showed in their guarded faces. Obviously, no one wanted anything to do with them.
He glanced at the corner where the man—who didn't want anyone to see him—was sitting. Without forcing it, he could only collect the impression of a thin man wearing a dark robe and hood. He had an impulsive wish to run as far away as he could get.
He looked at Kane… arguing with Alaina. Their fingers flickered in emphatic but tiny gestures scarcely detectable by untrained eyes. In spite of his misgivings, Seth decided to stay until they finished eating. If they left now, it would draw even more attention. If they stayed, the other travelers would naturally start inventing unthreatening reasons for their presence, just to give themselves peace of mind.
When the woman came back with the chicken, she scarcely looked at them but politely refilled their mugs and set another loaf of bread on the table.
He hardly registered the roast hen, though it was tender, well-seasoned, though a bit unsophisticated. They ate fast while trying not to appear rushed.
Kane—who most often carried the conversation—was oddly quiet.
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Kane was worried. For two weeks Alaina had been acting strange, much more temperamental than Kane had ever known her to be. She wasn’t often so grim—serious and sometimes humorless—but never testy for weeks. Something was wrong and Kane couldn't put his finger on it. It wasn’t about their recent capture either. He stabbed morosely at his meal and looked at Alaina from under his eyelashes. She studied Seth, trying not to be caught at it.
Oh!
Oh, no!
He looked at Seth, who was preoccupied.
This should have been obvious….
Seth's first interest.
The misunderstanding between them.
Seth getting them away from the bandits.
Kane wondered if he should call for everyone to put their cards on the table. It might fix things—maybe—but it could also set everything on fire.
He put his head in his hands and laughed in frustration.
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Seth decided to consider the bard's improved humor as a good sign, tossed a coin on the table, and picked up his knapsack. Kane and Alaina followed, with Alaina still grim.
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At night, two lines of pickets walking regular beats guarded this side of the pass. Three shadows
filtered through the lines like water going through sand. A fourth followed—passing straight through—without the techniques the first three had used to remain unseen. But, the guards paid it no mind. It passed like a shadow.
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Seth was glad Kane and Alaina had fairly good night vision. Even if it wasn't as good as his, they didn't stumble around in the dark. They made up for the lack of sensitivity in their eyes by using other senses: balance, touch, and intuition. They used the shadows and the shapes of light colored objects, to outline the immediate surroundings in their minds then filled in the rest with educated guesses.
The night sky was clear, but the moon, in its daytime cycle, would not show itself at night for a week, so it was difficult to see in the murk. The wind moaned in the trees and sighed, rustling the new growth of leaves. But, on the ground, all they received was an erratic breeze that rustled against their cloaks like a familiar cat.
Seth sniffed the air. The crispness and the chill were like Jyrmak's herb teas, invigorating and bracing. Something in the background though, a coloring of unease, or dis-ease, hovered just out of reach. A faint odor crept into the breeze, foul but elusive—as though from the grave of something corrupt.
Seth held his hand in the air and whispered, “Hold.”
Kane and Alaina stopped. Seth stood, straining with all of his senses.
“I think we've been found.”
Two swords came from their scabbards with a hiss.
“I don't think swords will help us,” Seth said, his voice grim below the flatness of his words.
Kane stared at him.
“What do you suggest we do?” Alaina said.
Seth turned to face the way they’d come. “Pray,” he said.