The Key To The Grave (#2 The Price Of Freedom)

by Chris Northern

  I ducked my head under the water and began to get clean as best I could with the one hand I was content to use, and still thought idly on the perversity of human nature, wondered why men like Tal Ephalan did not openly embrace our rule. It isn't even as though we much want to rule other peoples. As soon as a people looked like they were likely to be willing trade partners and occasional allies where our interests coincided, as soon as confidence was high that they wouldn't raise arms against us again, we let them rule themselves as they would; almost invariably. If not, self-rule would revert on the death of the patron in any case. Only where the patrons' assembly held the territory did the control remain, attached to a given office instead of an individual; a few no-longer-foreign lands held for strategic reasons, such as grain supply for the city or control of shipping or important trade routes. We had once held this territory, probably only briefly; the town itself was sufficient evidence that we were once here. Possibly more than once. It did strike me as odd that I'd never read of it but the libraries of the city are extensive and some books are rare. I sighed and dismissed the matter from my mind.

  I had more immediate concerns.

  Dannat. I'd excluded him from the chain of command deliberately. Not only because he was not my client and therefore not bound to obey my instructions, but because I didn't trust him. He must have heard of Duprane, that's what it came down to; her territory was little more than a days' ride from his own, yet he had said that the name meant nothing to him. If she held his sisters on behalf of Ishal Laharek then she was an enemy, and if he hadn't volunteered the fact that he knew where they were held, then his motives and actions were suspect. I'd meant to have someone watching him but it had slipped my mind. I resolved to deal with the matter as soon as possible. I had said I would free his sisters, and so I would if it were at all possible. But I had made no promises to him about his own safety. If he betrayed me he would pay for it. If people lost their lives because of that betrayal he would lose his. I was worried about numbers. Tal Ephalan had corrected my guess about the population of the town by over a thousand, reporting it to as eight thousand four hundred odd when I'd asked him. Say a quarter were able bodied men of an age and inclination to fight. Two thousand and one hundred men. A mob, true, but my own weren't much better. And the numbers had been thinned by refugees and deaths, but by how many I had no information on which to make a guess. A hundred? Two? Say two hundred left or gone. Less those who had so far come to me that left one thousand six hundred men, more or less. If Hathen Elt controlled all of them and learned, as he must in time, that I was building a force here he would swamp me with numbers before Meran and my maniple arrived. It was a worry.

  I set about shaving, taking my time with it.

  How many men did he control and how well did he control them? Even a quarter of them would be four hundred and fifty men, and if the other towers held arms and armor then a good two hundred or more would be equipped. I'd seen plenty of evidence of men who'd acquired armor and weapons already and had some reason to suppose that not all of those men were under Hathen Elt's control. Yet he would likely have some hundreds of men looking to him. But how willing were they? I knew the Necromancers ruled through fear and rigid control of wealth. Redistribution seemed to be their big idea for government. Stupid idea; people who make wealth spend money, and they have to spend it on something, giving others a shot at gaining it. To take from the wealthy is like killing a milk cow – you might eat well for a day but there would be no more milk. Fear of the Necromancers and envy of others; a carrot and a stick. And people fell for it. Wanting wealth wasn't enough, it had to be worked for. There will always be people who are better at acquiring wealth than others; it was like any other skill - if you liked it you put time and effort into it, then you got good at it. There are no musicians who don't like music, and for the best there aren't enough hours in the day to practice. Those who don't like the process of wealth acquisition don't get good at it, and envy those who do. That disparity of wealth causes friction in any society. Yet I could muster no sympathy for those who were hale and yet had little or nothing; their lives were their own responsibility, not mine. I know that life for the average labourer was hard and offered little reward, and telling a man to learn a better skill was no answer; he might have no talent for it, or by adulthood might not have the time to put into the necessary learning. Money might also be a factor, but not much of one; learning is cheap as it only takes two things, someone willing to teach and someone willing to learn. But the fact is that there are only so many engineers or painters or other well paid professionals needed, so those who gained real wealth and status were usually extraordinary or extraordinarily lucky or both.

  I paused in my attempts to shave and settled back with a sigh. I was tired. My thoughts were drifting and I kept losing focus. What did it matter how the Necromancers intended to rule or how stupid people had to be want them? I wasn't going to let them; that was the thing to focus on.

  Numbers. How many men would follow Hathen Elt? How willingly would they follow, and how hard would they fight? If they'd joined him for what he was promising, a free ride, fooling them into ignoring the fact that dead bakers don't bake bread, then they would not be the kind of men who would put their all into anything. What kind of mechanisms could he put in place to control his men? From Tal Ephalan I knew he had eight soldiers from his own land; I recognized them from the description Tal had given me, they wore the same plate armor and bore spears as had those we had encountered in Jek's village. It would all be about intimidation; a professional and experienced soldier could keep the lid on twenty men, but not even that many were they unwilling. He'd kill one, or have them decimated – nine men killing one of their own. However it was achieved, those eight could effectively control a hundred and sixty. Plus the Magistrate's twenty. And I still had no real idea of the capabilities of the Necromancer himself, though I knew if he raised zombies they would not be particularly effective. I'd fought them before, they were slow to respond and slow to move. Fire destroyed them.

  I finished shaving, satisfied that I had a fair idea of what to expect when Hathen Elt became aware of me and decided to act. A mob of some hundreds who would likely break and a core unit of one hundred and twenty or so of men who would fight, probably less than half of them with any real determination.

  Unless he worked them into a frenzy of hate such as I had seen at Jek's village – in which case we could expect to kill a lot of them and still take serious losses; and maybe even fall to a man.

  With that cheery thought I climbed out of the cooling water and gently towelled my healing skin dry as best I could with one hand. That done, I pulled on the clean robe that had been left for me and bundled up my armor, sword, and dirt-encrusted clothes and went looking for my bed.

  #

  “What is it?” Drant came up from under the bedclothes on one elbow, glaring my way.

  I had opened a door at random, looking for a bed. Jocasta had said something firm about that when she had forced food down my throat and packed me off to bathe but I didn't remember what and I didn't want to have to ask someone. Clearly I should have.

  “Sorry,” I could make out another form in light thrown from the hallway behind me. “Looking for a bed,” I explained.

  He pointed wordlessly and I made to shut the door, then paused and looked back, a bizarre possibility having crossed my mind. “This is your home isn't it?”

  He nodded, not changing his less than welcoming expression.

  “Well,” I said, “thanks for the hospitality”.

  He snorted a laugh. Which was good. I was beginning to think the belligerent sod didn't have a sense of humour.

  I closed the door and walked down the passage to the next door. There was a third. He would have said if it was the third, wouldn't he? I heard voices, followed by more laughter. I didn't think I wanted to go back and ask him, so I just went ahead and opened the door.

  Jocasta was comfortably stretched out in the bed
, looking like she belonged there. I stood in the doorway, doubtless looking like an idiot.

  “Now, you are not really surprised to see me here, are you Sumto?” I obviously wasn't quick enough. “There aren't that many beds and a lot of people wanting them,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone, clearly attempting to be patient. “The warm but less comfortable kitchen is full. Every room is full.” I still hadn't moved. “It was either share a bed with you or share a bed with someone else.” A slight edge had crept into her tone. “Or sleep outside or on the roof!”

  “Good choice. Tired,” I said by way of explanation, and stepped fully into the room before closing the door behind me and crossing to the bed. It looked comfortable. A proper bed. And a woman. How long had it been for either? Too damn long. “How's the bed?”

  “I should make you sleep on the floor.”

  “Only threaten what you can make happen,” the political maxim sprang from my lips before I thought it might be tactful to refrain from using it.

  “I'll remind you of that comment when I next have stone to hand,” she said with a flash of what might have been genuine anger.

  “Sorry.” The sooner you say it the less it's going to hurt. “Tired.”

  “Forgiven.” She worried at her lip for a moment as I crawled onto the bed and I caught a glimpse of what she was really feeling. Nervous. Anxious. A little frightened, maybe. She had put herself a little out on a limb, I guessed. “How are your burns,” she winced as soon as the words were out of her mouth and the potential implication occurred to her. “Sorry, I didn't mean... Damn, I'm messing this up.”

  I controlled my laugh to make it as gentle as I could. “It's fine. It's a big bed. Plenty of room. My skin is healing well enough but, as you can see, it's still not pretty and plenty tender in some places. Too tender to make the thought of sex appealing, and I'd rather I were fully healed in any case; I don't think my skin would be nice to touch, not yet. And my wrist is pretty busted,” I raised the swollen hand as evidence.

  She reached out a hand and gently touched my face with cool fingers. It felt good. Caused a tingle down my spine, my belly to lurch and a throb of interest from another area. “We need to be able to truthfully say we were not lovers before we were married, in any case. Our reputations are bad enough without that handicap to your career.”

  “We could always run away with the money and buy a farm. And a couple of town houses for rental income. We would be almost rich.”

  Her finger was on my lips before I finished talking. “I don't see you as a farmer, do you? I wouldn't mind but it would mean breaking your word and your mother's heart.”

  I grunted. “You're right. It was just a thought. I'd make a lousy farmer. Lying in bed and reading books with nibbles and wine wouldn't get the crop harvested.”

  She smiled. “Nice idea but we are who we are and we will do what we must.”

  “I could raise horses though. I'm good with horses.”

  “Stop it,” she sounded stern but ruined the effect with a suppressed giggle.

  I smiled as I slipped off my robe and climbed into the bed. She was naked. I put on my best country accent. “Well, you're a bold lass and no mistake!”

  She was blushing. “Not really. It just seemed silly.” She gestured across the room where a nightgown lay over a chest of draws. “One of the women gave me that but...” She shrugged.

  “Silly.”

  “Yes. I mean, how long until we are married?”

  Ouch. Leading question. I had no idea. I didn't even know if we were going to live through the next day.

  “I should have sent you with Sapphire.”

  Her face clouded over. “You didn't try. And I'm not your wife yet, Sumto. And you had better not try and take advantage of my oath of obedience when I am.”

  I nodded absently. “I should have thought of it, at least. But there will be a battle mage or two with the centuries; they will have stone, and with that you won't be helpless.”

  She shrugged. “No dowry, Sumto. No wealth with which to promise payment for stone. And they'll know it. Gossip spreads faster than fire.”

  I nodded. It might be an issue. No, it would be. Mages do not lend stone to each other, let alone to young noblewomen of no known skill. “I have money; I'll secure some as soon as they arrive.”

  “I'll be glad to have it. Then I can help you.”

  Everything would be fine. As soon as the centuries arrived. Two or three days. Or four. Or five.

  “Damn,” I sat up so I wouldn't fall asleep, pulling a pillow into place behind me.

  “What is it?”

  “Gossip spreads faster than fire, you said, and you are right. Pradas and Jek have been spreading the word; Hathen Elt will know by now, he will have spoken to Ishal Laharek and he will know who I am and know what I intend. If he attacks tonight we are not nearly ready.” I imagined a mass attack and shuddered at the chaos wrought amongst our inexperienced people. I thought how I would enact such an attack; I'd make it sudden, planks of wood run up against the barricades so that men could run up them and jump down behind the makeshift barriers; decent armor would give a good chance of making it without a wound to speak of, so that fight could be over in moments if all went well. If the attackers moved with care and forethought in the night then no one would see them coming. The boys wouldn't have time to react even if they were emotionally ready to kill first and think after, and few of them would be. Not an arrow would be loosed. The enemy could be moving into the centre of the compound in moments. Then flooding in and opposed by who? Yes, our men had assigned positions but we had not practised to get their reactions up to speed and the habits developed from training are what make a soldier fast and effective. There would be hesitation, confusion; it is amazing how stupid people can be when taken off guard, how far away from rational action they can travel when surprised. If I had a hundred and sixty men under arms I would attack tonight and I would win. I'd planned ditches and stakes but let it slip my mind, a job for the morning. If Hathen Elt were half as sharp as a city soldier there wouldn't be a morning.

  Jocasta was up before me and across the room, digging in the saddlebags and tossing clean clothes onto the bed. I fielded them as they came, but still snatched seconds to admired the view as I pulled on clothing, careless of the pain. She was a pretty lass. Pretty and smart and young and mine. I never should have let her stay here.

  She grunted with the weight of my armor as she dumped it on the bed and caught me catching a glimpse. “Focus! You'll have the rest of your life to look at my tits, Sumto!” She was blushing furiously. She hadn't taken time to bend at the knee and it wasn't her tits I'd been looking at.

  I grinned but didn't take time to answer as I sat to pull on stockings and boots. It was true, I hoped, and I was also trying to listen to the night. Nothing learned from that, though there was only a shuttered window between us and the cool night air. It made me even more nervous. If I was wrong I would call it an exercise, I decided, and then make enhanced dispositions to see out the night. There would be no panic after the first shock of the alarm. What bloody alarm? What was the signal? A bell? I hadn't specified and I hoped to hell someone had. How much had I drunk? Too damn much.

  I cursed, fumbling slightly with my bootstraps, then forced myself to calm and tied them methodically. Jocasta was standing beside the now open door, sword belt and sheathed weapon in her small hands. A couple of seconds gained by it, and she had a few to spare. Good girl, I thought, as I stood and spun to snatch up my mail coat. I still hadn't picked out a helm or shield. Forget it; with a bare head my men could pick me out more easily from the crowd. Less chance of getting swiped by one of your own people that way. I turned and took my sword from Jocasta as I passed through the door.

  “Better get some clothes on, just in case,” I said over my shoulder as I passed. I had wanted to stop and kiss her more than I'd thought possible and made a note to tell her that later.

  I hammered on Drant's door in passing, “Put the
woman down and pick your other weapon up!”

  “What the hell is it now?” He yelled back.

  I paused at the top of the stairs before heading down. “Just get everyone up and moving, and no alarm, hear me?” If I was lucky enough, or unlucky enough, to be right I wanted us ready and the enemy unaware that we were.

  “I hear you.” I hardly heard his reply over the thumping of my booted feet on the stairs.

  The hall below was quiet bar sounds of movement from the top of the stairs as Drant got himself moving. Trusting him to deal with things there, I tied my sword belt around my waist and strode out of the building and down the stairs. The courtyard was quiet, fires burned and lit the area within the compound well enough for me to see that all was well. There were small groups still awake about the fires and more than a few sleeping in the open air; not enough space had been cleared to get anywhere near everyone into shelter for the night. Those who were still awake had kept the fires burning; great pools of light thirty feet across near filled the courtyard, only the edge of things was in shadow. Outside those pools of light they wouldn't be able to see a damn thing. Ahead of me and to my right I could see into two of the shadowy spaces between buildings with the barricades at their far ends. To my left there was another opening, but it was out of my line of sight. I didn't hesitate for more than a second before heading for the nearest fire, a couple of men turning to face me, tensely questioning, as I approached.