Jebaneeza’s smile returned to its unnatural size once more. “Delightful! Oh, when you asked about the sod, I assumed you hadn’t seen it either. You’ve seen it, then? Of course you have, you just told me as much. And is it glorious then?”
Braylar smiled, neither pleasant nor attractive. “If you consider sod glorious, it is most glorious.”
There was a silence that seemed to comfort none of us save Braylar, and she broke it to say, “Well. It’s close then? Good. That is good. I imagined we had quite a distance yet to go.” This was followed by more silence.
I thought I might retrieve her smile by saying, “It’s surprisingly well put together. Considering the material. It’s simple, but elegant, if a bit in disrepair.”
Jebaneeza lit up again. “Lovely, just lovely. I can’t wait to see it. I’ve meant to for many years. I’ve visited nearly every shrine in this area, you know. But the shrine of Cuthlan—the one in the Green Sea, I’m not sure if you knew that, but it’s the shrine of Cuthlan. That’s his name. Cuthlan the Lame. Ah, yes,” she addressed Braylar again, “I see what you mean about nicknames. Or what was it you called it? Bynames? Bynames. Yes, they do seem mean-spirited, don’t they? Or at least not very complimentary. I’d never really considered it before. But even religious figures don’t seem to be spa—”
Braylar interrupted. “Have you been in the Green Sea before, Wrong Hand?”
She corrected him, “Jebaneeza Wrong Hand. Or just Jebaneeza, if it please you. `Wrong Hand’ seems, well, as I said, mean-spirited. Especially alone, like that, `Wrong Hand.’ But—”
“You’ve never traveled on it, yes?”
I imagine she was regretting approaching our wagon just then. “Yes. I mean no. No, I haven’t traveled on it. But my companion, as I believe I mentioned earlier, my companion has. And my family hails—”
“Your companion is a fool to lead you here. Unless you have a battalion hidden in that wagon.”
“Battalion? Soldiers, do you mean? No, of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“And no weapons? Are none among you armed, or able to defend yourselves?”
“No. Why should we be? We’re on a pilgrimage, as I told you.”
Braylar shook his head. “The Green Sea is a dangerous place to travel. Or did your companion forget to tell you that?”
“No,” she said, then amended, “that is, he mentioned that it wasn’t entirely safe, of course. But he said we could travel unmolested, being on a pilgrimage. And I believe him. Our gods will protect us.”
Braylar laughed his ugly laugh and said, “Then you’re a bigger fool than he is, Wrong Hand.”
And then he pulled his crossbow from beneath the seat and pointed it at her.
She gasped and took a step back. She looked back and forth between the crossbow and Braylar, very quickly, before blurting, “What? How dare you?”
Braylar gestured at the wagon with the crossbow before letting it drift back to her chest. “Now tell your companions to unload the wagon in the front.”
“But we’re pilgrims! We have nothing of value!”
“Listen to me carefully, pilgrim. I’m stealing nothing. You will unload your wagon and we will unload ours. You’ll ride off in our wagon, we’ll ride off in yours. You’ll keep your goods, we’ll keep ours. Simple, yes? Now do it.”
She put her hands on her substantial hips and said, “Switch wagons? What madness is this? I’ll do no such thing.”
Braylar sighed. “You might have noticed, I have a crossbow pointed at your chest. Perhaps you’ve never seen one work before. Let me explain: If I press this trigger, it will send a bolt right through your lungs, possibly even out the other side. You’ll fall in the grass, gasping. A great deal of blood will pour out of the hole. And you’ll stop breathing. This, too, is very simple. Now, your fellow pilgrims might cooperate more readily if I shoot you dead, given over to terror or panic, but then again, they might not. Panic does queer things to people, and righteous wrath, worse still. Rather than cooperate, they’d probably object. And if they did, I’d probably have to shoot, bludgeon, or stab them too. Now, I have no interest in killing anyone today. But if you press the issue, I have no qualms about it either.”
She sputtered, “You would… you wouldn’t dare!”
I was appalled this was happening, and didn’t understand why it was happening, but I had no idea how to stop it from happening either. It occurred to me, albeit briefly, that I could try to wrest the crossbow away from Braylar, but I knew that would only end with me killed in one of several ways. And so I did the only thing I could: I attempted to make this happen as bloodlessly as possible.
I told Jebaneeza, “Unfortunately, he would. He’s a godless pagan, who shows no respect for anything that walks or crawls. And I doubt his short retainer on the pony is likely to take your side of things. I suggest you do as he says.”
She looked at me, aghast, and said, “You seemed so polite, so mannerly. How can you be a part of this? How can you allow this, this…” she searched for the right word, “this brigand to do this?”
I didn’t have a ready-made response. “He’s the one with the crossbow, m’lady. Now please, do as he says. If you do, I guarantee no one will be hurt.”
Of course, I had no power to guarantee anything, but she wasn’t mollified anyway. “You’re no better then! Not a whit! In fact—”
But Braylar didn’t let her finish. “Enough. Do as I say, and you’ll live to see your silly shrine. Contest me, and you won’t live at all. And your people will likely follow. And maybe out of spite, I’ll go back and burn that shrine to the ground and piss on it besides. So make up your mind. Now.”
There was a moment when I was sure she’d attempt to stand her ground, and Braylar would have little choice but to shoot her down or leave off the peculiar idea of swapping wagons, but I suspected that no Syldoon would back down in such a situation, and especially not this one. Jebaneeza looked back and forth between Lloi and Braylar, and finally pragmatism and self-preservation won out. She shook her head, turned on her heel and walked back to her wagon.
This all seemed like a sudden fantastic dream. I had a hundred questions, but when Jebaneeza got out of earshot, I looked at Braylar and asked the most pressing one, “Would you have shot her?”
He didn’t look at me, but kept the crossbow pointed at her as she began speaking to her companions in very animated fashion. “I would take no joy in it.” That was the depth and breadth.
I turned to Lloi. “And you?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Told you already. I do what needs doing. That’s what I do.”
Dazed before, I became angry then, saying to Braylar, “What purpose does any of this serve?”
“Perhaps you forget. We were involved in an incident several days back. Some Hornmen were killed. I imagine this knowledge has been posted at border forts across the land by now. They’ll be looking for this wagon. Torn, blue canvas, spattered with blood. A spear hole in the seat. A huge bloodstain in the inside. Is it coming back to you now?” I didn’t respond. “Good. So we must be rid of this rig, yes? Now is better than later.”
“But this is no better than what the Hornman did to you. It’s extortion, or robbery, or—”
“It is neither. They’ll still have a wagon. And in fact, unless I grossly misjudge, ours is the newer of the two, and worth quite a bit more. Though, admittedly, it could use a little work.”
“But the authorities are looking for this one. If they find them in—”
“Start unloading our supplies, Arki. Now. Lloi will assist you.” She nodded and dismounted.
Before considering the weight of the words I said, “I want no part of this.”
He laughed but his eyes didn’t stray from the pilgrims. “You should have mentioned that during our first interview. Now, there are several witnesses that will happily identify you as a fellow brigand. At the very least you would lose a hand if caught. And what’s more, if we don’t do this thing, and th
e authorities, as you call them, do find us, you’ll be hung. Remember why we’re trying to offload this.”
I objected without thinking, “But the soldiers didn’t see me. They—”
“All but one. You are very forgetful. But even if he keeps his swollen lips closed, do you really believe that will save your neck? If so, you’re a bigger fool than the pilgrims.”
I stood up, and filled with some newfound courage, said, “I can go with them. The pilgrims. Right now. I can leave.”
Lloi looked at me, her expression mostly curious.
Braylar said, “And you’d find a bolt in your back before you got halfway there. I would rather not shoot you. Truly. But that’s exactly what will happen, just the same. You’re the third. What more is a fourth?”
“Third?” I asked stupidly, and then compounded with, “Fourth?”
“The first archivist was killed by an arrow no doubt aimed for me. The second I killed myself. For disobedience that bore a striking resemblance to yours just now. If I must hire a fourth, I must hire a fourth. I prefer not to—it’s a time-consuming process, and tedious in the extreme—but that’s entirely up to you.”
This chilled me, and I sat back down, lightheaded. But I didn’t have long to consider the implications before he ordered me to go in the wagon and begin unloading the supplies out the back. Lloi had already walked around to the rear and pulled the gate down.
Numb and uncertain, I did as commanded.
Lloi and I worked side by side, and though she was lacking digits and was smaller and a woman besides, she moved with economy and speed and seemed to move two containers to my one. I tried not to look at her much, sure I would only say something to slink lower in her estimation. But she called me over to help her with a barrel, and as we rolled it toward the gate, she said, “Never seen Captain Noose do nothing without calculating real hard on it. This here won’t be no exception.” She jumped down and said, “Met the last bookmaster, in case you wondered. Traveled with him a fair bit, same as I done with you. And I got to say, it didn’t split my heart none to see what happened to him. He earned what Captain Noose gave him, and more besides. Got off easy, you ask me.” After I helped her hoist the barrel into the grass, she added, “You mind that tongue of yours, though. Not a one of us some priceless treasure, you understand. Hate to see you with a bolt in your ribs. Really hate to see that flail crack your skull. Just one more thing for me to clean up.” She smiled and punched me in the shoulder, and then jumped back in the wagon.
Sometime later, dirty and drenched in sweat, I thought we’d finished the last of it and was leaning against the side when Lloi said, “Nuh-uh. Nearly there. One more thing yet.”
I looked over my shoulder, and seeing nothing inside, said, “I’m no master of sums, but I can count to one and I don’t seen a single thing in there.”
She smiled again and climbed back in. “Reason for that.”
I stayed on the ground, waiting for her to realize the wagon was in fact very empty, when she knelt down and began pulling at one of floorboards. I was about to remind her that Braylar ordered us only to unload the wagon, not dismantle it, when I saw her lift a panel up off the floor of the wagon. I climbed back in then and looked over her shoulder. There was a compartment hidden in the floor, and there was a long narrow box inside.
Lloi said, “Give me a hand here, bookmaster.”
I helped her lift the box out of the compartment, though it was surprisingly heavy. While she was sliding the panel back in place, I said, “What is this? And why was it stowed in such secrecy?”
“You didn’t think Captain Noose chose to ride clear of the roads because he got an appreciation for tall grass and butterflies, did you?”
”What’s inside?”
She winked. “Told you he got his reasons, didn’t I? When he sees fit to share them, I’m guessing you don’t get yourself shot you’ll be the next to know.”
I was about to ask another question when I heard Jebaneeza. Lloi and I walked around to the front of the wagon.
She was standing before Braylar. “The wagon is empty. And now what will you do with us, you, you… brigand? That is what you are, you know? A cowardly thief, to attack defenseless pilgrims like this.”
Braylar laid the crossbow across his lap. “I suggest you defend yourself on your next pilgrimage. As I said, you’ll soon be on your way. Tell one of your men over there to assist my fellow brigands in loading our goods in your wagon. We’ll swap horses as well. Then we’ll be on our way. You’ll have your two wagons, we’ll have one, and we’ll all happily move off in the opposite direction. Is this clear?”
Jebaneeza’s eyes narrowed, and she pointed a fat finger at Braylar. “I’ll report you. I hope you know that. I’ll report you to the first border patrol the very first chance I get. We won’t be going to the shrine, we’ll be going straight to the authorities now.”
“Shame about your shrine. Such a fine day for zealotry. But before you go running off to vent your outrage and cry for justice, you should know that Hornmen are already looking for this very wagon. Apparently they’re under the impression that the owners are responsible for the deaths of one or two of their agents. Possibly more, I don’t know. It might be a dangerous thing indeed to ride this wagon into any populated area, particularly one populated by border soldiers. In fact, were I riding in such a wagon, I’d rid myself of it as soon as possible, and by any means necessary. Such a wagon can bring nothing but ill luck. Still, it’s yours now, and you can do with it what you will.”
She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, shook her finger again, and then blurted, “If this is true, then you… you’re a murderer and a brigand!”
He shifted the crossbow on his lap, lazily almost, so that the bolt was pointing in Jebaneeza’s direction again, and said, “Now, order one of your men—and one man only—to take our supplies and load up the other wagon. My companions will assist. You can load your supplies into this one as soon as we’ve gone. Do you understand? Or do I perhaps need to draw a diagram in the dirt?”
Her face grew very flushed, and though her anger was neither frightening or intimidating, it was certainly bold. “You’re a bully, and a thief, and a self-professed murderer! And—”
“I profess nothing.”
“And when you’re captured, I hope they, I hope they…” she paused, not as if she were searching for the words, but as if she knew them and were trying to hold them back. “I hope they string you up by your neck and hang you until dead! I do! Dead, dead, dead!”
Braylar raised his eyebrows. “So uncharitable, Lady Pious. Very unbecoming. Truly.” He pointed the crossbow directly at her this time so there was no mistaking his intention. “Now load, before we add pilgrim slayer to the list, yes?”
She seemed more incensed than ever—I doubt righteous outrage could manifest itself more clearly than it did just then—but she was done protesting. She stomped back to her wagons, hips shaking thunderously, the folds of her skirts gathered up in one hand. If she had a tail it would’ve been twitching like a wet cat’s.
A few minutes later one of the other pilgrims came over to begin hauling our supplies to the other wagon. He was young, and judging by his shabby clothes, a servant of some sort. When I tried to hand him a crate, he flinched as if my hand were a poker from a fire.
Lloi and I did our best to avoid him as we all loaded the other wagon, and he returned the favor, though we stumbled across each other awkwardly more than once.
The boy only had a few trips left to make, and so I returned to sit next to Braylar. After a time, he said, “Don’t look so distraught, Arki. We’re doing only what we have to do. Nothing more.”
That was little enough consolation.
⊕
After everything was stowed to Braylar’s satisfaction, we switched the team of horses, tethered the other mounts to the new wagon, and started off, leaving a very confused and angry group of pilgrims in our wake.
While the shorter pilgrim wagon
had a wooden cover, the one we’d taken wasn’t too dissimilar from the bloodied one we left behind. Aside from being slightly smaller, as Lloi had predicted, and badly in need of a new coat of paint, it had the same kind of canvas top, wooden ribs, a seat in front. The chief difference was this wagon didn’t come equipped with a covert compartment in the floor, so the long box Braylar had secreted away earlier was now sitting among the rest of the supplies, albeit covered by a blanket. I was torn between wondering what it could contain that should have caused this criminally-inclined journey, and angry with myself for caring at all.
We traveled as far as we could before daylight gave out, and then a little further besides. I assumed Braylar wanted to put as much distance between us and the scene of his latest encounter as possible, though I didn’t ask. When we finally made camp, I moved the horses off and tended to them far from his gaze, not trusting myself to hold my tongue. I slept inside, though there was less room to recline now, and Braylar and Lloi remained outside. Few words were spoken by the pair, and none by me.
The next morning, the wind picked up appreciably, and some gusts were almost violent. I dozed for a while until I felt the wagon lurch. I looked out the back flap and was startled to see we’d turned onto a road. I couldn’t believe it at first. I was beginning to think I’d never see one again. But one look out the back confirmed it.
Not long after, he ordered Lloi to ride ahead, and while she argued with him, Braylar was unmoved. “As you can see, we’re no longer in the grass. I hardly think we’re going to get lost.”
“Oh, I figure you can find your way well enough now. But that might be more cause for me to stay close. If you take my meaning.”
“It’s unlikely I’ll be killing anyone else before we reach our destination. And if it somehow proves necessary, I’ll be sure to dispatch the villains with blade or bolt, never fear.”
She didn’t respond, and I imagined her twisting, rolling, or otherwise contorting her silly cap again.
Scourge of the Betrayer Page 15