The Andarian Affair

by Jones, Loren K.

  Charvil saw them coming and stood up, looking at the girl first, then at Stavin. “What did you do?” he asked in an exasperated tone. His expression mirrored his tone. The rest of the men just chuckled.

  Stavin took a deep breath and said, “It’s a long, sordid story, Sir, but the end is that Shari has someone to help her with Karlin now.”

  Charvil shifted his attention. “Darak?”

  “Well, at least he didn’t kill anyone this time,” Darak replied with a chuckle. “It was a near thing, though.” He went on to describe the event, and soon Charvil had his hand over his eyes as he shook his head.

  “We can’t take you anywhere, can we?” he asked as he looked at Stavin.

  “Sir!” Stavin almost whined, but Charvil waved him silent.

  “I know, Stavin. I know. I probably would have just beheaded him and been done with it. But now you’ve an extra mouth to feed. Did you think of that?”

  Stavin paused for an instant, and then said, “Ahhhhh, no.”

  Charvil was nodding. “Didn’t think so. Before we leave in the morning, see what you can do about getting us some food that we can’t ruin. Sausages, cheeses, bread that will keep a few days. That sort of thing.”

  Stavin looked at his father-in-law for a moment, then bowed his head. “Yes, Sir.” Turning to the girl, he asked, “Do you know where we can get supplies like that? I’m sorry, I didn’t ask your name. Who are you?”

  The girl looked at him and said, “My name is Sallin Bel’Bartem, Master Stavin,” as she bowed deeply.

  Stavin bowed his head deeply in reply. “Sallin, do you know where we can get ten or twelve days’ worth of sausages and cheese, and some hard bread that will last?”

  “Yes, Master Stavin,” she replied.

  Stavin looked at the sky and hummed. “We have time.” Turning to Charvil, he came to attention. “Sir, I request permission to go get the supplies now. I’m going to have to get some supplies for Sallin as well. Blanket and bed-roll at least.” He looked at her and shook his head. “If there’s a clothing district, we’ll hit that as well.”

  Charvil smiled as his son-in-law demonstrated the kind of decisiveness that set leaders apart from followers and looked at the rest of his men. “Darak, Ander, Stoval, Jorvan, guard the wagons. I think the rest of us should go with Stavin and see if we can keep him out of trouble.” Everyone except Sallin laughed as Stavin blushed with embarrassment.

  Sallin led them out of the caravansary by another gate and into the market. It wasn’t a full bazaar, but that was only because of the size. Just about everything could be found there, and she led them to where food could be purchased first.

  Stavin stepped up to a butcher’s stall and smiled at the woman behind the counter. “Your pardon, good madam,” he said to catch her attention.

  The woman turned, and looked at Charvil first, then down at Stavin. Her expression was one of intense curiosity as she said, “I beg yours, Master Trader. What do you seek?”

  “Hard sausages that will keep in this weather,” he replied. The game was on, and he spent a full span haggling over the price. In the end, he purchased twenty arm-long sausages, and walked away with a smile on his face.

  “Think you bought enough, Stavin?” Charvil asked. He and the others were carrying the sausages over their shoulders.

  “Should be, even with Elval’s appetite,” Stavin replied. All of the men laughed at that, especially Elval.

  The next stop was for cheese, and the process was repeated. This time he only bought five rounds, but it was nearly an equal weight to the sausage. Charvil looked at Stavin, then at the rest of the men and shook his head.

  “You four take this load back to the wagons. Hopefully the food Stavin and Darak arranged will be waiting for you. We’ll be along shortly.” He turned his attention to Stavin. “Shortly, Stavin.”

  “Yes, Sir. A baker next, Sallin,” he said, and she led them up a different street.

  The baker smiled broadly as they entered his shop. “Good Warriors, I am pleased to see you,” he said, focusing his attention on Sallin. “And you, Sallin. You’re free of that sorry excuse for an uncle of yours. What is your pleasure, Warrior?”

  “A supply of rolls that will keep for a few days in this weather,” Stavin replied, watching Sallin from the corner of his eye.

  The baker looked at him for a moment without speaking. “How much are you in need of?”

  “There are eleven of us, and we’ve a twelve-day journey ahead of us, starting tomorrow morning.”

  The baker nodded. “If you’ll take the end of today’s baking, I can deliver the rest in the morning. I can’t guarantee they’ll last twelve days, though.”

  Charvil chuckled. “It’ll be better than what we ate on the way down here.”

  Stavin and the baker haggled briefly, and ended up settling on a very good price. Stavin slung a heavy net bag of rolls over his shoulder as they left, but his attention was on Sallin. “You know him, and he obviously already knew what had happened at your uncle’s inn. Who is he?”

  “It’s a little complicated, Master Stavin,” she answered. “He’s my father’s best friend’s brother. He was always nice to us, and offered to take me in when mama and the rest died of the plague two years ago, but Uncle Gorlav and Aunt Shauna said I was blood and their responsibility.”

  “I’ll release you to him, if that is your wish,” Stavin said, and she turned to face him.

  “But you paid--”

  “Don’t worry about that, Sallin.”

  “No, Master Stavin. No, I have to worry about that. You paid a whole gold crown for me.” She paused and bit her lips, then looked down. “And if I stay here, Uncle Gorlav might come after me.”

  Stavin had to nod his agreement with that point. “Very well. We need to get you a blanket and some other supplies as well. Where can we find a cloth merchant?”

  Sallin led them to a cloth merchant, and Stavin bought her a thick wool blanket and a brand-new saddle blanket that would serve as a bed pad. He also bought three bolts of wool cloth in dark brown, black, and white. On the way, back to the caravansary they stopped in the castoff lane and picked her up three more outfits. Charvil was tapping his foot impatiently when Stavin had paid for the last one.

  “It’s getting dark and I’m getting hungry, Stavin,” he said as he looked down at him.

  “We’re done, I think. Sallin, lead us back to the caravansary.”

  Sallin bowed and led them off in a different direction rather than retracing their footsteps. It was a short walk, up two streets and over one, and they arrived back at the caravansary through the same gate they had left through.

  “I was completely turned around,” Stavin admitted in a stunned tone.

  Charvil grunted, but didn’t say anything. The food Stavin had ordered was waiting, and Stavin shared his with Sallin. She tried to object, but he insisted. “We’ve plenty of bread and sausage if we’re still hungry later,” he explained. Stavin was on the first watch rotation, and he sent Sallin to bed in his tent. When his watch ended, he curled up on his wagon seat rather than disturb her.

  The night was quiet, but the morning arrived with a shout. “You!” a rotund little bald man screamed as he waddled into the caravansary. “Who do you think you are?” he demanded as he waved his hands in the air like a bird beating its wings. “Bel’Serva handles the Kel’Kavin shipments! What makes you think you can come in here and disrupt our trade?” There were ten men dressed in a motley assortment of armor behind him, but none of them looked like a Warrior. More like common street toughs.

  Stavin began to answer, but Charvil beat him to it. “Be silent, you fool!” he growled, and the man stopped to stare at him as his eyes widened. “Last season this shipment cost us fifty-one gold crowns. Doubling the price on us was a serious mistake, Bel’Serva.”

  “I don’t know you,” the Trader said as he drew himself up to his full height and looked down his nose toward Charvil’s chest.

  “You
know me, Bel’Serva. I am Warmaster Charvil Kel’Horval of the Royal Guards of Kel’Kavin.”

  The Trader froze and suddenly looked terrified. He knew that name. It didn’t stop his protests, though. “Elder Kel’Horval?” he asked in a timid tone, seeming to hope he was wrong.

  Charvil glared as he growled, “Precisely.”

  The Trader eased forward and continued in a wheedling tone. “Elder Kel’Horval, I’ve always given your people the best prices. Now you hire this nobody--”

  “My son-in-law is not a nobody,” Charvil snarled, interrupting the fool. “He is Master Trader Stavin Kel’Aniston, owner of the Evandian House of Kel’Aniston, Lieutenant of the Evandian Royal Guard, and Warleader Fifth of Kel’Kavin. Our shipments will be handled by him and his House from now on.”

  “But, Elder,” the Trader said in the same wheedling tone, “Bel’Serva has been handling the Kel’Kavin shipments for over a hundred years.”

  “And I have to wonder just how long you’ve been double-charging us,” Charvil asked in a dangerously soft tone.

  The Trader took a step back, then another. When Charvil laid his hand on the hilt of his sword, the fool turned and ran for his life. So did the men behind him. No one challenged the Royal Guards. Charvil let them go. Only laughter chased them as they fled through the gate.

  That was so funny! Wait till I tell Shari. Stavin was chuckling softly, and Sallin gave him a curious look. “I’ll explain later.”

  The morning meal Stavin had arranged was delivered soon after the incident, and they all ate heartily. None of them were looking forward to the road. The baker arrived while they were eating with a middle-aged woman at his side. They carried a large basket between them, and walked directly up to Stavin.

  “Master Trader Stavin, here is the rest of your bread,” the baker said as they set the basket down. Then the woman walked over to Sallin with a different bundle in her hands.

  “Salli, dear, here are some of your things from the inn. I had Bellin snatch them up while your uncle was asleep. You’re well done with him, and no matter what the law says, the people will see justice done on your behalf.”

  Sallin took the bundle and bowed deeply as she said. “Thank you, Mistress Annalis.”

  Charvil was nodding in satisfaction as he looked around. “All right, men. Let’s harness the mules and head home.”

  Chapter 3

  ONCE THE ANIMALS WERE HARNESSED AND ready to go, and Stavin led the caravan out of the city. Once they were outside the city walls, though, the travel order changed, and Stavin’s was once again the last wagon. Sallin was on the seat right beside him, and he had to cut a piece of the white cloth for her to wrap across her face. Her curly brown hair was already covered by a pretty floral bonnet that Mistress Annalis had brought her. “Being the most junior member of a team is always like this,” he explained.

  The first night they camped, Stavin and Sallin handed out bread, sausage, and cheese to everyone before sitting down to eat their own evening meal. Sallin asked, “Master Stavin, why don’t you cook meals?”

  “Because none of us can cook very well,” Stavin answered. There were chuckles of agreement all around as the warriors nodded.

  She replied, “I can cook.”

  All of the men froze for an instant, then they began eating again. “Tomorrow, we’ll let you try, if you like,” Stavin said. “We usually just have beans with salted or dried meat when we’re traveling. It takes real talent to ruin beans,” he said, then chuckled before saying, “but I can do it.”

  As darkness fell, Stavin arranged Sallin in his tent, then made himself a bed in the foot-board of the wagon. She looked at him with a puzzled expression and asked, “Master Stavin, why you are sleeping out there? The tent is big enough for two.” She looked at the large men around them. “Well, the two of us at least.”

  “I’m sleeping out here because it would not be proper for me to sleep in the tent with you, Sallin,” he replied. He yawned hugely, then shook his head. “Besides, they’ll be coming to wake me for watch in a few spans. Just sleep the night through, and we’ll discuss anything else on the road tomorrow.”

  Stavin was back in the wagon, snoring softly, when morning arrived. Charvil woke him up by tapping on his forehead with one finger. “Stavin, your girl has been busy.”

  “Hm? What? What do you mean, Sir?”

  “Come to the morning meal and you’ll see,” was all the answer he got.

  What he found at the morning meal was amazing. He’d been expecting cold sausage, cheese, and bread again. What he got was a warm roll stuffed with diced sausage and melted cheese mixed with diced wild onion.

  “This is good,” he managed to say around his first mouthful.

  Sallin smiled as she handed out similar meals to each of the men as they arrived, then took one for herself. “Nothing is wasted at an inn, Master Stavin. I’ve had two years learning how to make a morning meal out of the leavings from the night before.”

  Elval looked at Stavin and said, “She’s cooking from now on,” as he licked his fingers.

  Charvil nodded as he chewed the last of his bread. “Stavin, we’re co-opting your servant. Is that all right with you?”

  Stavin’s grin threatened to split his face as he answered, “Absolutely, Sir. Anything to avoid your cooking.”

  “Watch it, Stavin,” Charvil growled as everyone except Sallin laughed. “You still have sword lessons at sundown.”

  “Yes, Sir!” Stavin answered, but he was fighting not to laugh.

  * * *

  Once they were on the road again, Stavin looked at Sallin and smiled. “I think a few of the older warriors were mad that I brought you along, but none of them are now. That was the best meal we’ve had on the road.”

  Sallin smiled and ducked her head in embarrassment. “It really wasn’t much trouble, Master Stavin. I saw the onions last night when we stopped and picked them when I got up this morning.”

  “Well, it was a welcome surprise to all of us. I didn’t think to ask you about your background, so tell me about yourself.”

  Sallin blushed and shrugged again. “There’s not much to tell, Master Stavin. I’m from Devon, north of Kahrant’s Pass. My family were farmers on Lord Zel’Corradan’s lands. We worked the land in the warm seasons and made little things in the cottage during the cold times. Then two years ago, the Red Tongue Plague killed almost all the people in Devon, even the lord’s family. I lived, but no one else from my family did. I was sent to Aunt Shauna, and you know the rest.”

  Stavin nodded. “Your uncle is lucky I didn’t kill him,” he almost whispered.

  “Have you ever killed a man, Master Stavin?”

  Stavin’s head whipped around to stare at her. “You don’t know what the star on my shoulder means?” he asked in a stunned whisper.

  “No, Master Stavin.”

  Stavin took a deep breath and began a dissertation about the meanings of the Kel’Kavin rank insignia. Rank hadn’t always been dependent on a kill-count. Originally, rank had been earned through more genteel methods. Time in the service of the king had been the primary way rank was achieved. A display of special talent or initiative could result in a non-commissioned officer becoming an officer, much the way Stavin had been made a lieutenant in the Evandian Royal Guard for saving King Kalin the year before. Family patronage was another way, though no one ever claimed they made rank because of their family and friends. There was always a better story.

  It had been after the fall of Farindia that the elder officers of Fort Kel’Kavin had reverted to the ancient ranking system. They had no authority to confer rank in the regular way. That had been the king’s prerogative.

  It had taken thirty years of trial and error to decide on the kill-counts that would designate rank. It was assumed, rightly in most cases, that the experience of going to the lowlands and fighting, and winning, was the best teacher, and in turn the best indication of who knew the most. It wasn’t always accurate, but most men tried to liv
e up to their rank by studying tactics during the winter.

  “But you have a four-pointed star with a white square in it.”

  Stavin tilted his head to the side. “Yes. That just means that I’ve won a lot of fights, and killed a lot of men. I have a lot to learn before I can lead men the way Warmaster Kel’Horval or any of the rest of these men can.”

  Sallin nodded and kept quiet for a while. Stavin had given her a lot to think about.

  * * *

  Sallin became adept at swinging down from the wagon on the roll, dashing off to pick wild onions, carrots, or other edibles, then running to catch up and climb back aboard. She demonstrated an almost endless array of recipes based on bread, grain, beans, sausage, and cheese mixed with wild vegetables. By the time they arrived at Kel’Kavin, she was a fixture that none of the men wanted to do without.

  The wagons rolled up to the storehouse and a crowd of men and women surrounded them to help unload--and to ask questions about the new member of their group. Once the wagons were unloaded and returned to storage, and the mules set loose in the pasture, Stavin led Sallin to his father’s house.

  Sharindis met Stavin at the door and wrapped him in a tight hug, kissing him repeatedly. “I’ve missed you so much, Stavi,” she whispered.

  “I’ve missed you as well, Shari,” Stavin murmured, hugging her tightly and snuggling his head between her breasts.

  “Who is this?” Marinis asked from the doorway and Sharindis let Stavin loose a little, but didn’t completely let go.

  “Stavin?” she asked as she finally saw the shadowy figure behind him.

  “Shari, Mom, this is Sallin,” he said, motioning the girl forward. “I brought her back to help with Karlin.”

  Sallin bowed deeply and said, “I am pleased to meet you, Mistress Sharindis and Mistress Marinis.” Stavin had had her change into the best of the outfits he’d bought her in Kahrant’s Pass while they were unloading, and she looked every inch the proper servant.

  Sharindis looked at the girl’s shadow and tilted her head to the side. “But why?”