Marri's Approach (Brackish Bay)

by Cerise Noble

  Her sneer was sufficient to identify who had won, but my concern was for my promise.

  “Did you kill anyone?”

  She snorted. “Do I look inept to you? I know my strength. I knocked them both out. It gave me enough time to run for a boat.”

  She paused, grimacing as she rubbed her arm, and I took her hand away to examine it.

  “Carol, help me. Zarilla, you're bleeding.”

  “Still? I bandaged it up.”

  “What was it, arrow?”

  “Yeah.”

  Zarilla grunted as Carol cut off the dirty makeshift bandage and cleaned the wound. Carol scolded her as she worked.

  “You're lucky it cut across the outside of your arm rather than sticking in or going through.”

  “Don't be a nag.” Carol dug a little harder with the alcohol soaked cloth and Zarilla winced. “Yes, I'm lucky.”

  “Why didn't they shoot to kill?”

  She shrugged. “I think they did. I was weaving as I rowed, anything to make myself a more difficult target.”

  “Where did you land?”

  “As far north of here as I could.” She took a deep breath. “That was a bitch, rowing against the current.”

  “I'll bet.”

  “But I know a good boat when I see one. I took the smoothest, lightest skimmer they had. It made better time over the waves than the heavier things they followed me in.”

  “You lost them in the woods?”

  She grinned. “They didn't make it to the woods. As soon as I pulled ashore, I started shooting at them.”

  Petunia glared. “You wasted arrows? What the hell for? You weren't going to kill them?”

  Zarilla shrugged. “It worked. I was able to back far enough into the woods while I held them off that I could run a good distance away before they were able to land.”

  I tightened the clean bandage around her arm. “You're sure they didn't track you?”

  “I'm sure.”

  “Good.”

  The next day Zarilla was spitting mad that I didn't allow her to participate in the next foray, but I couldn't risk a wounded woman on a delicate mission like that.

  “This time we're going to go together. I want to hit each of the outposts, one after another. The trick here is that we need to make it to the town square, locate something that is unique to each place, steal it, and get back out unremarked.”

  Petunia was skeptical. “How are we going to be unremarked? We're not exactly inconspicuous.”

  She had a point. Standing at a height equal to most men, her slender, dark figure and short-cropped hair was most remarkable.

  “Disguise.”

  “Where are we getting these disguises? We don't have anything.”

  “Rari's land.”

  “Rari? Isn't that the hunts mistress?”

  I nodded. “The very same. But her people are often on her homestead. They probably don't go into the town centers much. They won't be as recognizable as individuals, so if we wear what her people typically wear, we should get a pass.”

  “And how are we going to know what they typically wear?”

  “Duh. Observation.”

  And so it was that the five of us found trees as close to Rari's homestead as possible without alerting her hunting dogs. I looked to my right. There was Sami, her brown hair blending in with the tan of her skin and the bark of the tree. I looked to my left. There was Carol. She was still and quiet, her blonde hair barely visible in the green fabric she'd tied around it. Beyond her was Dawn, and beyond Sami was Petunia. I bit the inside of my lip again to keep from grinning as I remembered Petunia's threat to kill me if I laughed the first time she told me her name.

  The homestead was a cluster of log cabins, all set cattycornered to each other, but close together. There was a bit of a courtyard, and porches on some of the buildings, but the more important things of note were the people working. Most of them wore leathers—brown deerskin or suede pants, brown and green vests, and sandals or boots. I grinned. I liked her style. It was suited for moving in the woods and mostly blending in, but not so infernally hot. I'd like to keep the clothing we steal, Fortuna, if that's all right with you.

  How did they clean them, though? I didn't see laundry lines—or rather, I did, but I saw tunics on them, simple cloth affairs that seemed to only be worn by a few people with collars on. Slaves. House slaves, by the look of it. Some of the people wearing leathers also had collars around their throats, and I wondered about that. Some collars were a dull, non-reflective metal, but many were leather.

  It would be far more difficult to take leathers off of one of her people, and that would open us up to immediate pursuit and likely death. Regardless of Roy's orders, I didn't imagine a hunts mistress to be likely to leave an attacker alive. Besides, there had to be more clothing somewhere. The people wearing it were laboring, some butchering the catch, some building snares or fashioning bows and arrows. Others seemed to be working with small metals of some sort. I watched them for a while, until it dawned on me what they were doing.

  Cartridges! I had never seen someone make cartridges for guns before, but that was unmistakably what they were doing. I watched, fascinated, as a man measured precise amounts of powder into tiny metal cylinders, and then pressed a bit of lead into the tip using a levered contraption attached to a heavy table. Guns were uncommon in our world. Most craftsmen did not have the skill to recreate the precise parts that the old ones were made of. More than a few gun-makers had died of a jam that exploded in their hands. There were some heirlooms still floating around, of course, but most wars were fought with sword, spear, and bow.

  I touched my daggers, bought new only a year before in Aluet. They'd tasted some blood in their short lifetimes, and I was pleased with them. But my soldier's heart thrilled at the sight of all those cartridges. A box of heirloom cartridges was very expensive, worth a one-man mercenary mission or an assassination. There were certainly boxes of the new stuff on the market, but most of us didn't trust it. Get something wrong, and it blows up in your face. So it was cheap, and only used as a last resort. Watching Rari's man work, however, I was impressed with his precision. Envy squeezed my heart. Now I just need a gun to use them in, Fortuna. I'd already decided to steal a box of the finished cartridges.

  We waited a long time. It was difficult to remain quiet and still, but it would make no sense to get caught because we didn't know where to go or when. The worst was the lack of communication. I realized that my army's hand signals were somewhat different than the army my patrol worked in before taking leave to accompany me to Brackish Bay, and that was a weakness in our communication.

  I pointed out the cartridges to both Sami and Carol, but was uncertain whether they understood their significance, or passed the information down the line. I tried to indicate the leather clothing, but I couldn’t be sure they understood exactly what I meant there, either. It was difficult to express it in the first place, actually, given that my army hadn't really had more than one signal for armor and one for clothing. I signed both, attempting to indicate leather clothing, but even then I wasn't sure my own former army would understand.

  The sun rose, and with it the smell of the swampy ground. It wasn't quite stagnant there, but it was not as clean a scent as the ground held when closer to a river. It was a green, damp, thick scent, mitigated only by the brighter, almost minty scent of the birch I was sitting in.

  For a time I was meditative, listening to the birds twitter and chirp, the rustle of small animals beneath us. I wondered at my patience. Since when had I been content to sit and observe like this? Fortuna, am I losing my touch?

  A sharp sound caught my attention, and I noticed Carol and Sami had heard it, too. I peered through the green to see—there, Fortuna. It was a man, standing humbly and hunched as a woman a head shorter berated him. I couldn't hear her voice at that distance, but there was no mistaking their postures. She was indisputably in charge, and he was contrite. Shortly after she started scolding, she
pointed to the ground, and he dropped to his knees, his hands in front of him penitently. She continued to scold, accompanied by big angry gestures. After a time she yanked at his leather vest, and he obliged her by helping remove it.

  I could see a collar around his neck as she bared his back. Drawing a short whip from her boot, she slashed down. He winced. She didn't give him a second of respite, but instead commenced whipping him up and down his broad back, turning his tan skin ruddy. I could see his twitches and flinches, but he remained in place, obedient to her will without bondage of any sort. It made me nervous that the woman could command such submission.

  I wonder if that is Rari herself, Fortuna? As we watched, though, we saw the first opportunity that had come yet that morning. When the woman was finished whipping the man, she stormed off, and he rose, taking his leather vest to one of the smaller buildings around the far side of the compound. I watched him enter and then exit again, without it. Aha! Fortuna, we have a winner. I signaled to Carol and Sami several times, impatiently waiting for them to turn and look at me. When they finally did, I indicated the building. Finally, Carol nodded. Sami did not, but I was tired of waiting. I shimmied down the tree and began my silent run through the woods in a half circuit to the far side of the clearing. While I paused, tucked behind a tree and peering through a crook, Sami appeared beside me. I scowled at her. She came close, her voice barely audible.

  “I thought you wanted me to come with you.”

  “Too late now. That building? Snag five vests, and I'll snag five pants.”

  “Yes.”

  We waited, watching all the sight lines for our chance. There are too many people in this compound, Fortuna!

  Finally there was a lull in movement, and we both surged towards the small building. Getting in was easy. We ducked inside, one, two. Seeing was not too difficult. With the door ajar, there was enough sunlight to see that it was a laundry station, with tubs for washing and rinsing, racks and lines to hang things on, jars of soaps that filled the air with their scents. There was a pile that appeared to be ready to be washed, but the clean racks were empty. Dammit, Fortuna! Still, I dug through the basket quickly, straightening up with five pants that looked approximately the size of the women in my patrol. Sami gathered vests to her chest and stepped to the slightly opened door. There was movement beyond, and she backed into me. We stayed still, breathing silently and steadily. No one approached. Sweat trickled down my spine as the enclosed space grew hotter. The odor of dirty clothes was nearly suffocating, and I bit back my desire to gag. Sami handed me her pile and then oh-so-gently pushed the door farther open. Nothing. She stepped out, and I followed.

  I had just turned to hand her the clothes when she pushed me, and I ran, needing no further encouragement. Disappearing into the trees, I turned to see her struggling, pinned down by two women. Surely Sami could get out of—oh, wait. Dammit, Fortuna, this no-killing thing is a bitch. I didn't stay to watch, but instead disappeared through the forest. I took a wider circuit this time, not sure if they had seen me or just her, but eventually I made it to the tree where Dawn kept a lookout. I smacked the tree to get her attention, and she dropped to the soggy earth beside me. Her voice was practically sub vocal.

  “What in hell, Marri? You and Sami should have stayed where you were. They weren't going to that building. You could have had more time.”

  “I didn't see them, Sami did. It was very close quarters. I'm sure she made the best decision she could have.”

  “You're getting her out of there.” I glared at her a moment then returned to sorting the clothing we'd stolen and handing her a likely combination. “Krist, Marri, these reek!”

  “I know. They didn't have clean ones available. And no, I'm not going after Sami. If she's smart, she'll keep her head down and escape when she has opportunity. If she can't, I'll bargain for her when I meet with Roy in a month or so. She can survive a month. They're not that brutal here.”

  “Dammit, Marri!”

  “Shut up, Dawn! I am the leader of this patrol; I am the one who makes that decision. Now shut your mouth and do as I say, or I will tie you up and leave you for them. Then you two can plot your escape together, because I'll be done with the both of you!”

  We were standing toe to toe by the end of my whisper-snarled tirade, and despite her height advantage, I had the experience advantage, and she knew it. I curled my lip and stared her down.

  Carol showed up beside us. “Ladies, ladies. I'm sure we can all agree that getting the hell away from here should be our first order of business! Ugh, these do reek. No matter, we'll find a stream on the way. Dawn! Get your ass in gear and calm down!”

  Dawn worked her jaw and finally glanced away. I let the rest of my breath out in a gruff sound.

  “Come on. Tell Petunia we're going back to camp.”

  Zarilla wasn't any more pleased about Sami's capture than Dawn was, but she knew enough not to try to challenge me on my own mission. We settled in to wash the leathers, then laid them to dry in the fading sunlight. Supper was a fish stew that Zarilla had prepared while waiting for us, and we went to bed early, disgruntled with each other.

  The next morning we all woke early and dressed in Rari's people's clothing. Some of us were able to wear armor under it, helping it fit better. I was one of them. Petunia's was too short, however, and her armor would show, so she ended up leaving it in a bundle in a tree by the camp. This time the mission included Zarilla.

  We walked towards the road, then cut southeast in an attempt to follow the slant of the river while staying far enough out to not run into any of Roy's soldiers in the woods. Every hour or so, one of us climbed a tree to check for the outpost. We planned to enter far south, as it was the farthest from Rari's homestead, and it was my hope that her people would be less known individually.

  Zarilla pointed out that I would be more obvious there, since it was closer to where I had come ashore, so I bound up my hair in one of Carol's leaf-patterned scarves and padded the vest with one of my camp sheets, wrapping the corners to cover the tattoo on my shoulder.

  We approached the gate as a group, striding steadily but not too uniformly. We weren't trying to look like soldiers. The guards at the gate halted us, and Dawn took point.

  “What's your business?” a guard said.

  “We're on Mistress Rari's business. She sent us to the market.”

  “Market? Why don't you go to the market closer?”

  “She heard that this outpost had a trading ship come in. Told us to check it out and report back.”

  The guard eyed us doubtfully. “All of you?”

  “If the fabrics meet her needs, they're to carry it back.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder at us, and we tried to look strong and dumb.”

  “Fabrics? Didn't that ship come in earlier this week?” He turned to the man beside him. “Did you hear that the ship from Cinitar was still here? I though it unloaded most of its cargo at the first outpost?”

  The other man shrugged. “I don't go to the market, man. That's what I have a wife for. She handles all that.”

  The first guard turned back. “I think you've got it wrong.”

  Dawn shrugged. “We'll check anyway.”

  They let us in. We sauntered along the streets, giving Dawn time to look around and identify the way to the market. It wasn't hard; it was smack dab in the middle of the outpost. There she asked around for the fabric merchant, and sure enough, he had plenty of inferior goods from Tornaku, but almost nothing from Cinitar left. I fingered the woven fabric while Dawn argued with the merchant briefly. After a bit, she turned off in a huff. We followed, and made our way to the bridge that led to the island.

  It was a great, long, tall bridge, a testament to the skill of the craftsmen Roy had been able to entice to his House. I marveled at the structure as we approached. Thick square pylons sunk deep into the river were spaced widely enough for several boats to pass between them at the same time. The arching top edges were high enough that they wouldn
't impede even the tall sailed boat we had come on from Cinitar. The bridge itself had a sturdy railing, giving safety to the pedestrians as well as the horses and carts. There were only a few of these occupying the bridge at the time we approached and were halted by another guard.

  “I haven't seen you before.”

  Dawn cocked a hip and immediately adopted a pissed off attitude. “You haven't? What the fuck is wrong with your eyes? I was with Rari on the island just last week! You don't remember me?”

  “Er—”

  The other guard whistled from his side of the bridge. “I wasn't on duty last week, little mama. You want to leave your mark so that you know I won't forget you?”

  Dawn spit in his direction and proceeded to step onto the bridge. The first guard blocked her way with his spear.

  “No, sorry. Rules are rules. I have to either recognize you or you have to be with someone I recognize.”

  “I'm Rari's best rabbit hunter, fool! Let me pass!”

  He squinted at her face. “I don't remember you.”

  She sighed, and gestured impatiently at us. “How about any of them? You going to tell me you've never seen any of them before, either?”

  It was a highly risky move. If he'd been one of the ones who'd seen me— I held my breath. Fortuna, let the scarf be enough, please?

  “No. I'm sorry. I don't recognize any of you.”

  Dawn proceeded to have a full-fledged screaming riot of a meltdown. If I hadn't known better, Fortuna, I would have thought the woman had gone mad.

  I edged away from her, waiting. A cart came up, and the second guard gave them a nod before continuing to attempt to console Dawn. Unobtrusively, I began to follow the cart. The rest of my patrol began talking over each other, trying to quiet Dawn and reassure the guards. After a while, Petunia slapped her across the face, picked her up and slung her over her shoulder.

  “We'll take her back to Rari. I'm sure she'll have something to say about the lack of discipline she's displaying. We're so very, very sorry for her behavior.”