by Pam Uphoff
Fall 1390
Fort Stag, Foothills Province, Section Two
The old fort was probably one of the oldest buildings in the World.
It had stood through the comet fall a thousand years ago, volcanic eruptions and earthquakes, the disaster or series of disasters that clouded their history. What enemies it had stood against were lost forever with any written records and what Uncle Rufi had called the swiss cheese holes in the memories of the old gods.
And now I may have to consider that he wasn't just embroidering history with another of his tall tales.
Garit realized, with considerable private amusement, that his new commanding officer didn't believe in magic. Oh, the colonel acknowledged that it existed, but somehow he seemed to feel that there must be some levers or pulleys involved in it somewhere. Garit had grown up with the same fables and tales that Colonel Tanner Trick had, but as a royal prince, his had been sprinkled with personal comments. "Now, I asked the God of War and he said . . . " or "The God of Travelers decided to do something about . . ."
He was going to miss his Uncle Rufi's stories. And humor. The God of Just Deserts? The Boy with the Talking Horse? He still loved to hover in the background and listen as the old General entertained his great nieces and nephews. And no doubt the old man would still be telling those stories when he got back. And I wonder if maybe they weren't quite as fanciful as I'd thought! They say Lord Hell is a God. And Xen has to be the basis for the Boy, even if Pyrite doesn't talk back . . . And of course one of the funny parts about the stories is that no one ever hears the horse actually speak . . . he nods wisely and snorts derisively . . . Just like Pyrite.
These mountains were certainly a pretty place to spend a three year assignment. They towered around the fort, which watched the first narrow pass as the Old North Road climbed into the ranges. The watch was alert; Garit heard the gong of the tower guard, and by the time they rode into the bailey the two companies were drawn up in parade order.
Colonel Trick was frowning a bit as he dismounted.
The outgoing commander, an older general whose career had stalled out here and who would be retiring upon his return to Karista, returned Colonel Trick's salute.
"Welcome to Fort Stag, Colonel." The older man was smiling. "Don't look so grim. You'll get enough bandits and rescues of merchants to keep you busy, and an education about a part of the World that is practically unknown. This posting is a gift to both the aspiring young officer and over-the-hill sort."
Gift?
The salutary introductions went around. The two resident captains would be returning to Karista and their next assignments, but the junior officers all had another year or two to go. Garit, to his regret, was assigned to administrative duties, rather than getting an active command. It was hell being a green twenty year old. Especially when you weren't quite twenty yet.
"Come, let me show you around . . . "
However old, the function of a fort controlled its design, and this one was quite straightforward. The officers all had quarters in the rather small main keep. The troops were quartered in two barracks. The horses and mules were kept in four barns. Mess hall, kitchen, Quartermaster . . . there wasn't much more to it.
"Troops on leave head twenty miles south to the village of Ash. Nice friendly little place, but it does have its quirks. Bunch of wizards and witches live there. They just finished building a new inn with a kitchen, so the troops can get a drink and a good dinner inside now. The villagers used to sell food and kept a bunch of tables out under some big trees. Much better now."
Garit blinked a bit. Ash? Xen's village?
"Witches and wizards?" Colonel Trick smiled thinly. "I think I got enough teasing in Karista, General. I don't think most villages could support more than one or two witches."
The General looked a bit taken aback. "Well, they all farm and so forth. Big flock of really fine sheep, as well as cattle. We purchase most of our supplies there. We rarely have to go further."
"Glad to hear that. I wondered, looking at the map, where you were getting supplies. The census shows this 'Ash' as having a population of about three hundred, with a big drop between fifteen and twenty years ago. Plague?"
"Oh, no. A whole pack of the young adults shifted to a Land Grant out in the New Lands. Rip Crossing they're calling it. Then the ones who stayed in the village had a, umm, internal disagreement, and close to a third of the remaining population moved away. They don't have plagues there. Lady Gisele wouldn't allow it."
"Lady Gisele?" Captain Tanner frowned. "I didn't have enough time to dig up all the information I wanted. I wasn't able to determine who the Provincial Nobility are. I must say I was surprised to find there wasn't a duke, and that the position of royal governor has persisted so long."
"Some of the original land grant families are egalitarians, don't go in for titles. Any of the Lords and Ladies you meet around here either earned the title because of the respect everyone has for them, or they moved in from somewhere else." The General shrugged. "This is one of the more peaceful Provinces. We don't needs Lords and their guardsmen. Until the Old Road was reopened, a single detachment in Wallenton was all the King sent here."
"And we do as much engineering as fighting, if I understand the reports." Colonel Trick nodded. "I suppose the bandits avoid the area of the fort?"
"Yes. The way the road has to curve around, even a courier needs more than a day to cross the mountains. Most of the merchants take three, not that we have all that many, mind you. But any time the southern border flares, the northern mines start freighting their goods this way. Climbing the mountains is hard, but beats meeting the Auralians. The bandits always follow them, but they have the same bottleneck to pass, right here. The only other ways out to the west are foot tracks. I wouldn't even take a mule on some of them."
Garit sighed, internally. Failing a major border problem, it sounded like it was going to be a dull three years. But. He was going to tackle it with competence. He'd learned a great deal from his two year rotation. And a great deal of what he'd learned had been from Xen's example. Relaxed, confident, easy humored . . . had he ever seen Xen lose his temper? He'd certainly never seen him lose a fight, but despite being easily the best swordsman Garit had ever seen, he was much more likely to defuse aggression than take umbrage.
Garit looked back and shook his head, remembering the attitude he'd had about starting his 'Noble's Two Years of Service to the Crown'. Pretty funny, how he'd ground his teeth when Uncle Rufi had asked him to keep a friendly eye on his illegitimate country bumpkin cousin . . . Garit was the baby of the family, with five sisters in between him and his older brothers. Twenty-two and eighteen years his senior, a generation away. Xen had very quickly become the person he most copied, the one year older wish-he-was-my-brother he admired. Not that he'd ever told Xen that. Too damned embarrassing.
But he was going to try for that same calm competence, and willingness to tackle any chore that was Xen's trademark. He grinned a little, thinking about Xen at a covert watch post, his cover, stable boy. Xen hadn't seemed to mind mucking out stalls a bit. Be honest. Xen enjoys it, it gives him more time to talk to the horses.
Garit tossed his limited kit into his quarters, and tracked down the quartermaster.
***
Tanner was actually quite impressed with his new command. General Morei had done a good job here, and was leaving very few problems behind.
He pulled out his notebook and added a few details he'd need to take care of. Check out these footpaths that bandits could use. Ride the road and look for the places where terrain made ambushes easy. Ride to this village, meet the Mayor and the older men, establish a relationship. Find out where Lord Hell's country home was, relative to Ash and the Fort . . . He felt himself flushing, thinking about Azure. Damn it, he shouldn't have . . . What if he'd gotten her pregnant? She wouldn't be able to come to him. He'd marry her immediately, of course. Old Gods! Everything he'd ever dreamed of in a woman, in a wife, and he didn't even k
now where to find her.
He shook himself. Time to stop dreaming and get to work. Remi had his quarters already put to rights. He was grateful that General Morei had shifted to the guest quarters already. Very generous gesture. He would keep that in mind himself, three years hence.
The cook really put on a spread, for his departing commander's last breakfast. Tanner rode with them an hour down the road. Further than the usual courtesy escort; they started talking about a spate of attacks from two years ago. What they'd done, where they'd tracked the bandits. Which of his junior officers were the best, and which scouts to depend on for the tough jobs. It was all fine and well for their superiors to want a clean break and a fresh approach when changing commands, but a bit of a leg up was nice. He bid the General farewell and headed back to his new home.
It was going to be a busy winter before the high pass was clear and he could survey the entirety of his responsibility.
***
The quartermaster was confident enough to admit that his job was made easier by the villagers. "First time I've ever had villagers happy to take tax certificates instead of coin, and they know how much we need, and like as not arrive with it about the time I'm making a list of what I need to go buy in the village."
He strolled down the center aisle of the barn, eyes running over the horses. "We buy remounts there too. There's a horse breeder with some good stock, and the Mayor, Sir Romeau Ayres, has an utterly incredible stallion." He leaned over the stall door and gave Garit's big gelding an approving look. "I heard you had to swap horses at the last minute."
"My mare managed to get bred. Who knows what by." He scratched Joker's jaw. "She's this one's half sister."
"Hmph. It always seems like the people with the worst horses are the ones that never cut their colts."
Garit nodded agreement. "Dad's horsemaster was just appalled. No doubt I'll hear from him just how awful the accidental foal is. The poor man arranges half the breedings of the royal mounts, and he's been after me to stop riding and start breeding her for years."
"Going to bring her up here?"
"No. I figured she might as well have a couple or three foals while I'm here. Joker is a damn good horse, even if his sister's better. He'll do for me." Garit glanced curiously at the quartermaster. "I noticed, going through the books, that rather a lot of the troops volunteer for second and even third postings here. I'm a bit surprised."
He chuckled. "That's because you haven't gotten into Ash yet. The colonel's going next week, to pay a courtesy visit to the mayor. You should try to go with him, the place is full of witches."
Garit nodded. Of course. Xen always claimed his mother was a witch, and his village full of them. Now I can see for myself.
***
As they trotted their horses down the well drained road, Tanner smelled a faint sulfur tang on the air. "Hot springs somewhere."
Prince Garit sniffed. "Is that what it is?"
Tanner had been pleased with the young prince's work. And demeanor. Too many nobles were raised to be arrogant and useless. Including some of the Royals. But not this one, fortunately. He was a pleasure to work with, ready to tackle any task.
Even with the early storm and resulting mud, Ash was a pretty village. The stone houses had bright trim, and the wood houses were painted every color of the rainbow. There was a clump of farm houses and then the village proper. He was surprised to see a dry goods store in such a small place, and then a butcher's shop, closed up. He blinked in surprise at a small ornate stone building that claimed to be a bank. The houses had been added onto, as if their families had grown, except for a decrepit hut surrounded with a neatly dug garden all around it. A lot of the plants had clearly suffered from the cold snap, but a variety of evergreen shrubs exuded some interesting odors.
"I should have asked one of the old hands which house was the Mayor's." He looked around at all the houses. "Or I could just stop anyplace and ask." A trio of women were walking into the village from the east, chattering and laughing. He wasn't sure if it would be proper to approach them, although surely in plain sight, and with no touching, no one could take umbrage . . . He didn't see any men at all.
"They'd probably know in there." Garit was looking at the tavern.
"Right. But we're not here to drink."
They tied their horses to the rail and walked in. It smelled wonderful. "But maybe we should eat here."
There were three men in the tavern, he was glad to see. Lots of women here too.
"Can I help you?" The little girl, no, just a small woman, smiled up at him.
"I'm looking for the Mayor."
"Ah, that's him over there, in the fancy duds." She bounced off to a table full of pretty young women.
Tanner looked the men over as he maneuvered through the tables. One tall and thin, dressed like a poor farmer, one tall, broad and muscular dressed like a prosperous but working farmer and a handsome man in a shirt with frills and lace. The hat hanging on the empty chair beside him had two ridiculously long plumes, dyed a brilliant blue.
"Good afternoon. I was looking for the Mayor?" Tanner couldn't keep his gaze from wandering wistfully toward the prosperous farmer type.
The poor farmer pointed at the man in the lacy shirt. "We make Romeau do it, otherwise he'd get bored and get into trouble."
"Wisdom from unlikely sources,
better double check.
Most likely someone
didn't hear the question."
The prosperous farmer shook his head. "Well, at least you're not getting any worse." He turned to Tanner. "See what we mean? What would he come up with if he had all day to think up poems. I'm Dydit Twicecutt, this is Nil, often referred to as the Sheep Man, and I regret to confirm, our noble Mayor. Sir Romeau Ayres. You must be the new commander."
"Colonel Tanner Trick, sir." He shook the man's hand, then the poor farmer's hand. He turned to the Mayor. "I thought I'd drop in and introduce myself. I understand we do a lot of business here."
The fancy man shook his hand firmly. "A pleasure, Colonel. Won't you join us?" He swept his hat off the chair and tossed it at a rack against the back wall. Tanner blinked as the hat caught a peg and settled.
"He practices constantly," Twicecutt said. "And he'll never admit that he was aiming for a different peg." He cocked an eye behind Tanner.
"One of my junior officers, Lieutenant Garit Negue."
"Sirs, pleased to meet you."
Tanner was relieved to see that no one was gawping over the name. The poor farmer leaned back and snaked out a long arm to drag up another chair, and they sat.
"Given the occasional bandits that hit merchants on the road, I'm a bit surprised your village doesn't have walls." Tanner started.
They all grinned. "We eat bandits for dinner. They learn very quickly to not bother us."
Garit nodded. "We keep hearing from everyone that the village is solid with witches."
"A reputation like that must avert a lot of trouble." Tanner thought about it. "Rather clever, really."
The three men grinned in delight.
A cute teenager with fluffy brown hair and the deepest darkest blue eyes Tanner had ever seen brought out warm toasty bread and a crock of butter and asked what they'd like to drink.
"They have excellent wine, local vineyard," the poor farmer said. "I'd recommend a merlot."
Tanner blinked. Good wine? He doubted it, but held out hopes for at least decent.
"Local? I'll have to try it."
"Hmm, might as well give the colonel the full treatment, Quicksilver." Nil propped his elbows on the table comfortably. "I'm afraid this early storm has given you a poor welcome to the mountains."
"It caught us on the road. The old hands at the Fort think it's likely that the pass will thaw before winter sets in solid."
The poor farmer shrugged. "It's nearly a mile higher than we are. Once it ices, it's unlikely to be passable till spring. But it's so early in the year, you might get lucky."
The
girl whisked back with bowls of hot clear soup, followed by a thin man with a bottle of red wine and glasses. He opened the bottle expertly and poured, skipping the tedious cork examination and smelling that a City waiter would have performed.
"Even if the top pass stays closed, you'll be able to inspect nearly all the way up, if you want." Twicecutt shrugged. "Most of the bandit attacks have been on the far side of the Feather River gorge. There have been some on this side, but not on the road. They raid all the little farms in the foothills to the north."
"Yes, that's what General Morei told me. I've got a huge pile of reading to get through this winter." And should have started already. He tasted the wine and blinked in surprise.
More grins, probably at his expression. "The Auld Wulf sells to a lot of the better restaurants in the city."
"I should think so." The soup was excellent, and the spicy lamb that followed. There was rice, which he was quite certain they couldn't grow up here, and steamed vegetables and a fresh salad that hinted at a greenhouse somewhere near. A flan with caramelized syrup and a sweet white wine to finish.
The mayor and the farmers had a very relaxed attitude toward the government, apparently they paid their taxes and dealt with everything themselves.
"Up here, we figure the taxes take care of everyone else's problems so they don't become ours. Well worth it. We're quite prosperous and independent."
"Well, I hope you appreciate the help with bandits we provide." Grins again. Hadn't these people ever been attacked?
In any case a pleasant time was had by all. Prince Garit apparently knew the serving girl's brother, and behaved in a friendly but respectful fashion. The brother must be a good soldier. And of course, the girl was quite young, looked maybe fourteen. Not that that would have even slowed some nobles. Tanner was beginning to realize that he did indeed have a plum assignment. Good troops, good civilian neighbors, hopefully enough work to get noticed, and having a young Royal along was looking like an asset rather than the albatross he'd feared.