by Neil McGarry
Malleus said nothing, and Kakios merely smiled.
Duchess silently cursed Julius and his damned cleverness. She stepped away from Castor and gestured to the north. “Shall we get started?” she asked as she passed Oddfellows and Brutes both. She kept walking without waiting for a response. She didn’t dare look back.
* * *
If Duchess didn’t know better, she’d have thought the whole thing a trap set by Julius.
Nothing was going as expected. The path was rougher than she’d been told, the distance they needed to travel farther, and all of it was taking longer than it should. Hells, even the so-called Coast Road was nowhere near the sea.
“We left hours ago, and it’s getting dark,” she pointed out. She hated the way she sounded, but her back ached from the weight of the pack, her feet hurt, and she was looking forward only to a cold meal and a long night sleeping on the ground. And, of course, every step she took was one farther from civilization and closer to being in the woods with two human monsters with a grudge against her. “I’m wondering when we’ll arrive at this spot you’ve picked out.”
Gant laughed in reply. “A woman who keeps track of small details. I like that.”
Lidda snorted. “You would. Small details are all a woman’s like to get from you.” Lidda was always prepared to skewer any positive Gant could propose. Still, there was a rough familiarity to the banter, and Duchess allowed herself a smile. Castor, only a step behind her, registered no change in expression, nor did the Brutes, who walked at the front of the group. They’d suggested bringing up the rear, but Castor wouldn’t hear of it.
“The wolf wants us where it can see us, Malleus,” Kakios had observed, laughing darkly.
“You can walk ahead or you can walk back to the city,” had been Castor’s reply. And so the Brutes had taken the front, but every once in awhile one or the other would look back at Duchess with a strange little smile, one that sent chills down her spine.
The only bright spots in the day were Toby’s smiles. She’d been so thrown by the Brutes’ appearance that at first she’d barely noticed the man, but he’d done his level best to catch her attention. He seemed a bit older than Lysander, short and muscular with broad shoulders, dark hair and rough hands, with both the eyes and the eager-to-please nature of a basset hound. He’d offered her an apple, his cloak, and stumbling attempts at conversation; she’d accepted the first and the third but had had to point out to the lad that she was already wearing a cloak of her own. He’d blushed at that, and Lidda had laughed.
“Don’t write off the lad so easy,” she whispered to Duchess after the offer of the cloak. “What Toby lacks in clever conversation and height he more than makes up in stamina—and girth.”
Duchess almost choked on the apple she was still finishing.
“That’s quite enough of that,” Gant mock-growled at Lidda, slowing, “we’ve arrived.” He gestured to one side of the rough, packed-earth road, which looked to her the same as it had miles and miles ago.
“I’m no warrior, I admit, but this doesn’t exactly seem like an ideal spot for an ambush,” Duchess pointed out. Along most of the road the trees had pressed in closely, but here there was a good stretch of clear space on either side, and nowhere to hide.
“It’s not,” Castor put in from behind. “Which is why he picked it.”
Gant nodded in affirmation. “Your man has the right of it.” He scanned the sky and the dying sunlight. “Get going, you three. You know what to do.” He gestured and Lidda, Toby, and Aaron slipped off to make camp.
“And you’re sure Rulen won’t travel at night?” Duchess asked anxiously. “If you’re wrong, we’ve come a long way for nothing.” The rumors Pete had started were still swirling through the city, and gods only knew what he’d frune if she returned to him empty-handed.
Gant waved a hand, looking up and down the road. “Trust me, I’ve served with Rulen for a long time, and the man is far too cautious to risk traveling in the dark.” He led the way off the track and into the woods, where about fifty feet in they came to a small clearing, sheltered by a thick knot of pines. There Lidda was already setting out a ring of rocks for a fire, and Toby was gathering firewood, glancing shyly in her direction from time to time. Aaron was nowhere to be seen.
Castor helped her slide her pack off her shoulders, and she moved to help Lidda; forest or fireplace, lighting a fire was one thing she knew how to do. Castor and Gant began to unpack bedrolls, Toby broke out the stored food, but the Brutes went off a little way by themselves. They placed their belongings in a small pile and then stood watching her and the rest, occasionally whispering to one another.
The damp grasses and sticks Toby had gathered were reluctant to kindle, and it took both Duchess and Lidda some time to get a good blaze going. By then the sun had dipped deeper and soon darkness was encroaching from all sides.
“Are the woods always this dark?” she asked. Even this small distance into the forest, the canopy had closed over them, blocking out most of the remaining light from the sky. “I thought the city got dark at night, but nothing like this.”
Lidda rolled her eyes. “Cityfolk,” she muttered and spat. “You’ve got lightboys and lanterns as far as the eye can see. It’ll get darker here before you know it. And there’s darker still, out there.” She nodded slightly towards Malleus and Kakios, who had drawn their swords. Gant paused in his unpacking, and Castor gave the pair a long, cool stare. Thankfully, the Brutes turned their weapons on one another and began sparring, but Duchess imagined they were really just trying to keep everyone else on edge. They were certainly succeeding, at least on her account.
“Oh, we’ve got that kind of dark in the city as well,” she muttered, and Lidda nodded.
Aaron returned from wherever he had been with two hares slung over his shoulder, giving the Brutes a wary look. “Those won’t attend themselves,” Gant said pointedly, and the young man sat on the ground near Toby and without a word started skinning them with a large knife. Toby whispered something to him, and Aaron glanced in Duchess’ direction and rolled his eyes. Toby frowned but said nothing more.
The meal was as strange as any Duchess had ever eaten. There was rabbit, toasted on sticks held over the fire, along with salt pork, stale bread, and more apples. Still, the wine that Gant had brought was sweet, and made up for a great deal. The Oddfellows seemed pleased with the fare and so did Castor, although Malleus and Kakios had taken their portion in ominous silence and then withdrawn to the limit of the firelight. After the day’s exertions Duchess should have been hungrier, but having the Brutes so near blunted her appetite.
“I don’t have to warn you that those men mean you harm,” Gant said quietly as they finished their meals. Toby and Aaron paid no attention, focused on the dice they were rolling on the cold ground, but Lidda, finishing the last of the wine, nodded grimly.
Duchess shrugged. “I’ve tangled with them before and come out ahead, so no need to fear for me on that count. Besides,” she nodded across the fire, “Castor keeps me well protected.”
Castor had his sword out and was running a stone along its edge while watching the Brutes’ every move. Gant regarded him silently, the firelight shining in his pale blue eyes. “That one’s a mystery,” he said at last. “Comfortable with a blade, knows his way around a camp, but he doesn’t seem like a sellsword to me.” He turned back to her. “Where on earth did you find him?”
“In a cellar, or a pie. I don’t recall which.” It wouldn’t do to speak of Castor’s provenance. The empress thought the fallen White dead, and Duchess saw no reason to disabuse her.
Lidda laughed. “Better than the rock I found this one under.” She jabbed Gant with an elbow, but her humor seemed forced. The presence of the Brutes had everyone uneasy. Malleus and Kakios were good for pulling everyone else together, she’d say that for them.
“Strange bedfellows, the lot of us.” Duchess muttered and Lidda and Gant nodded in agreement. “Speaking of which,” she no
dded across the camp, “where’d you pick up Aaron?” She’d lost track of the former lightboy years ago; as with many of the Tenth Bell Boys, Aaron had simply wandered off as he’d gotten older. She’d not thought to find him amongst a sellsword company like the Oddfellows. “The last time I saw him he was carrying a stick and a lantern in the Shallows, and now he’s hunting rabbits.”
Lidda shrugged. “Been with us a few years. There’s always boys like him, with few prospects and nothing to hold them in the city. The lucky ones get taken in by the likes of the Oddfellows. The others have to sign up with worse companies, or take service on the borders. In the Territories, or past Verge, in the Duchies.”
Gant nodded. “Aaron’s a pain in the arse, sure, but he’s dependable. Loyal. Good with a sling, too, which is more than I can say for some.” Rolling her eyes, Lidda got up and crossed to where Castor sat. She crouched beside him and put out her hand, and he handed over the whetstone without a word. The life of soldiers, Duchess reflected, as the woman proceeded to sharpen her own blade.
Duchess looked back to Gant. “Julius was a little less than clear on the details regarding all of you.” She watched him closely. “If things don’t go well tomorrow, there might not be any more Oddfellows.” Not to mention what might happen to her and Castor.
Gant returned a hard look. “We’ll all be fine, assuming Rulen shows some sense.” He took up a stick and poked at the fire, anger clear in his eyes. “I’d like to roast that one for putting us on this road.” Duchess said nothing. The Brutes were just visible across the clearing; Kakios was binding up a gash in his leg from their sparring, while Malleus leaned back against a tree, the firelight reflected in his dead eyes. “None of it matters, to be honest,” Gant went on. “The why of what you do. Things have to be done, and afterward you tell yourself whatever makes you sleep easy.”
She thought about the things she had done since she donned her gray cloak. To earn the gray cloak. “And what are you telling yourself?”
“That the Oddfellows—Lidda, Toby, Aaron, and the others you haven’t met—are worth it. And Rulen isn’t.”
“And what did Rulen do?”
Gant tossed the stick into the fire. “Nothing, at first.” He glanced up at her and the light reflected in his eyes. “I know we sellswords have a bad reputation, but the Oddfellows were different. Like Lidda said, the lucky ones end up here.” He sighed. “Nerita was a good woman, but she should never have put Rulen in charge when she left. Lidda said she thought I’d get the nod. There’s ten I’d put at the head before me and Rulen both, her included.” He glanced over at Lidda, who was now in some quiet conversation with Castor.
“You care about her.”
“I care about them all. They’re my family.”
“All families have their troubles.”
“Aye. But there’s trouble and then there’s trouble.” Sensing more, Duchess stayed silent. “Rulen started hiring us out to all comers, and when the coin didn’t come in the way it used to, I started asking questions. What really tore it was a job we took on two, three weeks ago, just before we got into this Levering thing.” He glanced around, as if worried someone might overhear. “Strange assignment. We were told to go to this estate just outside the city, a lot of land, manor house, stables—highborn, all of it. But we weren’t to go near the house itself; instead, Rulen had us spread out in a wide ring around this little cottage on the edge of the estate. He told us to keep a lookout for anyone trying to leave. Any that did, well...” He slid his dagger from its sheath and regarded it solemnly in the firelight. “We were in place just after dark, and then hours passed with nothing, and I started getting this bad feeling. We’d had so many bad ends with Rulen, so many things go sour. None of us liked doing night work that close to the city anyway; the Whites are too close for comfort, and their way is to strike first and ask questions later.” She had to will herself not to look at Castor. “I got Lidda to cover for me and I crept up to see who needed killing so badly. No one was around at that hour, so I sneaked right up to that cottage and looked in a window. Inside I saw an old woman and a little boy. No soldiers, no priests, no officials, nothing but a boy of maybe eight and a woman of maybe eighty.”
“Gods,” Duchess whispered.
Gant nodded. “So I went back to find Rulen. He gave me hell for disobeying orders, of course, but at that point I didn’t care. I asked him since when were the Oddfellows in the business of killing children and old women. He told me to keep my mouth shut and do as I was told, but you could see he was scared himself. I told him that if what he was telling me to do was slit a little boy’s throat he could go to hell.”
Something about this story sounded eerily familiar to Duchess, and she glanced at Castor. “What happened? To the old woman and the boy?”
“I don’t know,” Gant replied, “By the time I got back to Lidda, the whole thing was over. There’d been some shouting and some swordplay, but as far as I could tell none of our people were wielding the blades. As best I can tell, someone else did the butcher’s work and we were there to make sure none of the lambs escaped the pen.” He shook his head. “So we held our position until whatever was going on was over, and then Rulen shows up with our pay. He looked pale, like he’d eaten something bad, but he just ordered us to move out. I never found out what happened to the woman and the boy, and I don’t think I want to know. Over the next few days some of us got to talking, and I made sure they knew exactly what we were there to do that night.” He met her gaze. “And who made us do it.”
Neither of them said anything for awhile, sitting near the fire and watching as the trees, the forest, the Brutes, Castor and Lidda, Aaron and Toby were one by one swallowed by the encroaching dark.
Chapter Nine: Dark and darker still
“They’re coming,” Lidda reported, wiping water from her eyes. In the city, rain fell in a mist that barely got you wet, or a heavy downpour that drove everyone indoors, but this in-between was new to Duchess. She didn’t like the way it made her clothes stick, or how it sent runnels of water down into her eyes. Neither did Lidda, by the looks of it.
Gant nodded, then addressed them all: Toby, Aaron, Lidda, the Brutes, Duchess and Castor. “Once more,” he told them, squinting against the rain. “Nobody draws a weapon until I’ve said my say. No one needs to die today, and if this goes the way I expect, no one will. Just be ready to move if things go bad.”
Duchess clenched her hands to keep them from shaking. Everyone here was armed, and everyone with the wagons would be armed. It would take just one wrong word, one misinterpreted move, to leave blood all over the Coast Road. Then the rumors about her would be true.
She leaned close to Castor. “There can’t be any killing today,” she breathed. He nodded, gesturing for her to find cover along with the others. She crouched behind a tangle of bushes, the former White close beside her. Gant and the others sought their own hiding places, as did Malleus and Kakios.
She could not say how long they waited, straining to hear over the rain, but after a minute or an hour the sounds of horses and creaking wheels could be heard. She sent a silent prayer to Mayu just as the first wagon came into view, driven by two men in much the same kit as Gant and his fellows. Two more wagons followed, each driven by another pair of men, with four walking alongside. They spoke to each other, but at this distance she could not make out their words. Two and two and two and four, she counted. Ten men, versus their eight. She hoped once more that Gant was right about how quickly and easily this would go.
As if prompted by her thoughts, Gant signaled, and they broke cover, quickly crossing the space between the trees and the road. One of the walkers shouted, and the wagons rolled to a halt. The guards moved swiftly to confront their group, hands on weapons, and Duchess had to restrain herself from either yanking out her own blade or fleeing back into the woods. Castor came close behind, a solid and welcome presence.
Gant approached with his hands up and called over the rain, “Hail, brothers! No
need for that. Is this how you welcome one of your own?”
A man with frizzy white hair squinted. “Gant? You were s’posed to be in the city, or so said the cap’n.” He looked Nerrish, and spoke with a thick southern accent. He looked back towards the lead wagon. “Cap’n?”
The man he had looked towards climbed down from his seat. This must be Rulen, dark-haired with a hooked nose and a jutting brow now wrinkled in frustration. “What are you about, Gant? You were to wait for us in the city. I call that disobeying orders.”
Gant smiled grimly. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” He signaled, and more than half of the men on the road drew their weapons and surrounded Rulen. The remaining four, including the white-haired man, gaped, but made no move to support their leader. “I’m relieving you of command. Permanently. Your sword, if you please.”
Rulen looked about, his mouth opening and closing. “This is mutiny,” he growled at last. “Lidda, Aaron, Toby—you can’t support this. You know this is wrong.”
Lidda spat at the ground in front of Rulen. “As wrong as killing children?”
Toby glanced uncertainly at Gant, and a nod from the leader seemed to decide him. “This...this makes it right,” he said, quietly, hardly a quaver in his voice. He stepped forward and moved his hand towards Rulen’s belt. Rulen slapped his hand away, then flinched as every drawn sword leveled in his direction, surrounding him in a thicket of steel. The men who had not moved against their leader looked around uncertainly but made no move to intervene. Toby reached again for the weapon, and this time Rulen did not resist. He slid the sword free and drove it point-first into the rain-softened earth.
“Traitors! The lot of you!” Rulen turned to those Oddfellows who had not drawn their swords. “Stand with me, brothers, for the honor of the company!”
The white haired man looked around at those of his fellows who had not taken a side. “Four against thirteen makes a poor fight,” he allowed, scratching his head, “at least for the four.” He shrugged. “And the honor of the company didn’t stop you from signing us up for many a bad piece of work. Looks like we might have new leadership. Sorry, Cap’n.” He slowly moved to Gant’s side. “What’re your orders?” Duchess held her breath until the other three bowed their heads and stood down.