“Probably till early spring, when things start moving again.”
Cayell shut the chest and sat on the edge of the bed by Tevi. “What do you say that we try and get on the same contract? Some large caravan going north, maybe. They can be pretty rough. It would be nice to have at least one good-looking face around. I’d be doing you a favour.”
Tevi punched her friend gently. “You flatter yourself.”
“It’s good for my ego. But you’d be pleased if we were together?”
“Of course.”
“I’d like...having you around.” Cayell’s voice was quieter, the joking tone gone.
“Even when I’m hung over?”
“Maybe you’re not at your best right now, but...” Cayell paused, as if bracing herself. “I like you...a lot.” Cayell carefully raised her hand to stroke the side of Tevi’s face, pushing the wet hair back from her cheek.
“What do you mean?” Alarm flared in Tevi’s gut.
Cayell’s lips twisted in a nervous half smile. “I mean that I think you’re really nice, and I’m hoping that you feel the same about me. And you’re great to have as a friend, but I’d like to be more. And I know you probably won’t feel like it at the moment...with your hangover, but I’m desperately hoping that I can talk you into keeping me company tonight.”
The memory of the hay barn on Storenseg surged into Tevi’s head. Again, she could smell the stale odours of the barn and hear Brec’s treacherous voice. Wild panic stopped the breath in her lungs as she sat up and shoved Cayell away. The onslaught of old nightmares sent searing bolts ripping through her skull. Tevi glared around, eyes screwed in agony, searching for hiding places. There were none, but the partitions were thin. Anyone might be standing next door. She lurched to her feet, stumbling in her haste.
Tevi raised her voice, loud enough for any eavesdropper to hear. “If I want that sort of company, I’ll find a man.”
Cayell had landed on the floor. Looking dazed, she stared wordlessly and had still made no attempt to move by the time that Tevi had wrenched the door open and raced away down the corridor.
*
Tevi ran wildly through the guildhall, paying no attention to where her footsteps led her. She finally stumbled to a halt in the covered walkway surrounding a quadrangle. Several stone benches were set between the pillars. Tevi picked one at random, sat down, and watched the rain. The surface of a small pond in the middle was laced with ripples.
Tevi pulled her heels onto the seat and rested her forehead on her knees. Her skull was about to explode. Ideas scrambled through her head, fighting between the stabs of pain. The words of the assessor came back to her: “ In our judgement, you will not do anything to bring the guild into disrepute.” Tevi’s face contorted as she tried to remember all the guild rules. Nothing specifically had been said, but she guessed it was covered by the catchall clause of “dishonourable conduct.”
Why had Cayell done it? Or had she? Tevi groaned. In her current state, she could not be certain of anything. Perhaps she had misunderstood and should find Cayell and apologise, although there was no explanation that was not in itself a confession of guilt. Then Tevi remembered the look on Cayell’s face. She was sure she had not been wrong.
Was Cayell’s overture genuine or a trap? The latter option made no sense. The guild should have made their tests before accepting her, not after. Yet surely Cayell would not be so reckless in risking their futures. What if they had been overheard? Tevi settled her chin onto her knees. Her chaotic thoughts would not settle into any sensible order. The hangover made thinking as easy as fighting with fog. The pain and nausea rendered her incapable of tackling anything else.
The rain fell in sheets, drowning out all other sounds, including that of footsteps approaching.
“Ah, Tevi. I was looking for you.” An elderly voice spoke.
Tevi jerked around so violently that she almost fell. One of the guild masters was standing at her shoulder.
“Sir?” Her heart thumped in her breast. Her mouth was dry.
“I’ve been told you have experience of driving a wagon. Is that true?”
The question was so unexpected, Tevi could only stare back blankly.
He tried again. “You know, a wagon? Wheels underneath and some horses in front to pull it. You know how to drive one?”
“Er...yes. A wagon. Yes.”
The guild master chuckled. “I’d heard you had a good time last night.” He smiled indulgently. “We’ve had a request from someone who wants to hire a mercenary. He intends to go north, to spend winter with his daughter at Treviston. The route is straight through the heart of the Protectorate, and all he needs is a wagon driver. Which is what we told him. However, he seems convinced that everyone outside Lyremouth is a psychopathic barbarian, and he wants protection. I said we’d try and find someone.” The guild master paused. “Normally, the guild insists junior members accept any contract they’re qualified for, but this is not how we expect our warriors to be employed, and I imagine that you would much rather stay here. So we will let you refuse the contract this time—as a one-off concession.”
“I’ll go.”
The speed of Tevi’s reply clearly surprised the guild master. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well...it’s good to see such enthusiasm.”
“When does he want to leave?”
“I told him if we found someone, we’d send them over tomorrow morning. If you’re certain you want the job, I’d recommend you spend the afternoon buying yourself warm clothes. Treviston is some way north and in the mountains. Don’t worry about the cost; your new employer is paying well. After you’ve bought what you need, you can call at the pursers’ and pick up the contract. I’ll arrange to have it ready.”
After a final puzzled look at Tevi, the guild master left. Tevi followed his departure with her eyes, then swivelled back and sat for a long while watching the rain fall.
Chapter Eight—Difficult Company
Early the next morning, Tevi arrived at the address she had been given, a substantial townhouse in one of the richer areas of Lyremouth. A scattering of tradesmen were about, but the street was quieter than most. Tevi suspected it would remain so throughout the day. Nothing would be permitted to disturb the genteel tranquillity. While waiting for the door to open she shuffled from foot to foot, examining the half-timbered frontage of the house in a futile attempt to distract herself from feeling exposed and vulnerable.
She had risen before the bell and grabbed food from the kitchens, not wanting to take her breakfast with the others. The previous evening had been a strain. She and Cayell had ignored each other, although once or twice, Tevi had caught the other woman glaring at her in undisguised confusion and anger. Perrin and the others had clearly been surprised by the broken friendship but had wisely refrained from interfering. Tevi wondered what they had been told.
Eventually the door opened and an elderly servant studied her with cursory disdain. “You are the mercenary guard?”
“Yes. I’ve got the contract with me.” Tevi held out the paper.
“Master Sarryle is expecting you. Follow me.”
She was led into a small parlour. Her new employer was sitting by the fire, blankets draped over his knees. To a first glance, he looked far older than he actually was—an effect he seemed to be cultivating deliberately, by his outmoded dress and frail mannerisms. His head was bald on top, with a frill of white hair hanging over his ears. Sunken eyes blinked irritably in Tevi’s direction as if she was an unpleasant distraction. A partly eaten breakfast lay to one side. His lips pulled into a sour pout.
“You’re very young. I was expecting somebody more experienced.”
The caustic tone was disconcerting. However, Tevi stepped forward, presenting the contract. “I have experience with wagons, sir. And I am a trained warrior.”
“You’re early. The horses aren’t harnessed yet. Eli will have to do it after finding my willow bark ointment. I alway
s wake with this terrible pain in my joints. I don’t know how I’m going to cope with the journey. The town councils never maintain the roads as they should.”
Tevi latched onto a break in the tirade. “I could harness the horses, sir.”
“If you think you’re able.” Sarryle’s tone made his doubt evident. “Though I’m not sure how far we’ll get today. The weather witch said it will be fine, but you can’t trust them. My knees ache—that’s always a sign of rain. We’ll be up to our necks in mud by midmorning. I don’t know why my daughter had to move so far away. Typical of her.”
“The horses, sir?”
“Oh, yes, yes. Eli, show her to the stables. And these eggs are overdone. You’ll have to do some more. You must—”
Tevi and Eli escaped. As they walked to the stables, Tevi tried to catch Eli’s eye, wondering how seriously she should take Master Sarryle’s behaviour.
“Will you be coming with us to Treviston?” Tevi asked.
“I am to stay and look after the house.”
“There’ll be other servants?” Tevi was not too sure about being alone with the old man.
“The cook and the valet have recently left Master Sarryle’s employ and have not yet been replaced.”
Tevi assumed that meant no. Eli’s voice was so deliberately neutral, it was obvious there was a lot that was not being said. Unsurprising—Tevi had already worked out that her new employer was not easy to deal with first thing in the morning.
*
It soon emerged, however, that Tevi was mistaken in her judgement. Master Sarryle was never easy to deal with, regardless of the time of day. Before the journey was halfway complete, Tevi had formed the opinion that the protection of a guild mercenary was not an extravagance on her employer’s part. Without her presence, Tevi was convinced that someone would have strangled the old man. She was not sure if she could withstand the temptation herself.
The journey limped from town to town. Before leaving Lyremouth, Tevi had established that the distance could be travelled in fifteen days, twenty at the most. Yet thirty days did not see them to their destination. Master Sarryle would not start early, nor would he travel after nightfall. He complained about potholes if she raised the speed above a walk. In Lower Deaford, he developed a chill and would not move for three days. Tevi was approaching the end of her patience.
On the thirty-second day of the journey, they lodged at a farm less than nine miles from Treviston. The weather had been mild for the time of year—a sharp frost most nights, but the skies had remained clear. However, that night, winter struck. They awoke to a world cloaked in white. Huge flakes danced in the light wind and drifted into deep banks. Tevi was astonished. Snow was rare on Storenseg, never more than a dusting on the mountains.
The snow continued to fall all morning. Just before lunchtime, it slackened and finally ceased. Tevi stood in the doorway with Master Sarryle scowling at her shoulder.
“If you’d made better time, we’d be safely in Treviston by now. I thought you were supposed to be competent at driving a wagon,” he snapped before stalking off.
“I’ll throttle him,” Tevi mouthed silently to herself.
His place was taken by the farm owner. Tevi continued to look out across the hills. Only the stark blackness of trees broke the soft contours of white. The wind blew across the threshold with an icy bite. The farmer studied the ominous grey clouds before offering her opinion.
“It will hold off for a while, but when it gets going, we’ll be snowed in. It’s always the same when winter comes late. It hits quick and hard and won’t let up till spring.”
“Do you think it will hold long enough for us to get to Treviston?”
The farmer pursed her lips. “Chancy.”
At that moment, they heard Sarryle’s voice. “You, boy. Don’t screech. It hurts my ears.”
“Lee put an icicle down my neck,” a young voice wailed.
“I don’t know what your parents are thinking of, letting you run wild.”
“I was only playing,” protested a second child, presumably Lee.
“You think this weather’s a game. If you had my knees...”
Tevi met the farmer’s eyes. She could tell that the same thought was going through the other woman’s head. Freezing to death would be fun compared to months cooped up with Master Sarryle.
“I’ll risk it.”
From the dazzling smile, Tevi thought the farmer was about to kiss her.
While Tevi and Sarryle dressed in their warmest clothes, the entire farm workforce was called on to make ready the wagon. Even one ancient great-grandparent hobbled out to offer advice.
Sarryle was not grateful for the help. He stopped in the yard and looked at the snow settling over the tops of his boots. “I’m not sure if we should travel today.”
“Nonsense, sir. It will be quite all right,” Tevi said briskly.
Sarryle’s mouth started to open. Tevi did not give him a chance. She swept her elderly employer off his feet and hoisted him into the wagon; then she fastened the awning and leapt onto the driver’s seat. The wagon rolled into the snowy landscape, accompanied by a barrage of accusations emanating from the covered section. When Tevi looked back, she could see the farmer’s whole family standing by the gates, waving an enthusiastic goodbye.
The deep drifts made it hard to tell the line of the road. Only the gap between stunted upland trees showed the route. Twice, the wheels ran into the drainage ditch and were pulled free with much coaxing of the carthorses. By the time they had travelled three miles, Tevi was obliged to get out and lead the horses while feeling for the road with her feet. Her toes were frozen, but at least she could no longer hear what Master Sarryle was saying.
As afternoon advanced, the snow began to fall again. White flakes swirled ghostlike in the half-light. The horses fought their way over the last hill, their hooves sliding on the ice. Faint lights shone in the valley below. Treviston at last. Snow lay less thick on this side of the hill, and the road was again visible. Tevi climbed back onto the wagon with relief. She set the horses off at a good pace, ignoring the complaints from behind.
Two miles outside town, they reached a side road. Lights from a large farmhouse shone at the end of a short track. Tevi knew this was the approximate location of the daughter’s farm. She raised the awning. Master Sarryle was wedged sullenly in a corner under a mound of blankets.
“Do you know exactly where your daughter’s farm is, sir?”
“Do you mean to tell me you’re lost?”
“No. There’s a farm over there. I wondered if it was your daughter’s.”
“Didn’t you pay attention to your instructions?”
“I was told your daughter lives two miles south of town.”
“Well, you obviously—”
Tevi dropped the flap, her patience snapped. She did not care whose house it was. They could take the old man; she was not going a step farther with him.
Fortunately, it was the right farm, and Sarryle was welcomed inside. The affectionate greeting impressed Tevi. She could not believe it was genuine. Tevi stood, slightly dazed in the knowledge that her contract was completed, while Sarryle was led to the room prepared for him and the wagon was taken to the stables.
The daughter beckoned Tevi aside. “Do you wish to stay here tonight?”
“It’s taken longer to get here than planned. I think I should report straight to the guild master in town.”
The excuse was weak. One night’s delay would make no difference, even if her arrival were expected. In truth, Tevi would rather have slept in the snow than spend another night under the same roof as Sarryle. The daughter smiled sympathetically. Using a wax candle, she put her father’s seal on the contract and passed it back with the money. As an afterthought, she handed Tevi a few more coins. “I’m sure you’ve deserved it.”
In a mood of euphoria, Tevi shouted goodbye to everyone within earshot. Night was descending rapidly. The freezing wind had picked up, and the snow
was falling hard, but Tevi felt so happy to be rid of her charge that she practically skipped all the way into town.
*
“So she came over to me, and she looked me straight in the eye, and she said, ‘Lad,’ she said, ‘I need a volunteer. But it’s a tough one, and I can’t guarantee you’ll come back.’ So I looked at her, and I said, ‘I’m your man.’ Then she took me by the hand, and she said, ‘Good lad. I knew I could rely on you.’ ‘So what’s the score?’ I said. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘We need someone to get behind enemy lines and set fire to their stores.’ So I said, ‘Consider it done.’ And when she’d gone, I went straight to the captain, and I told him what she’d said, and do you know what he said to me?” The narrator paused dramatically.
Tevi was not sure how much more she could stand. It would not be so bad if the old warrior did not expect audience participation. “No. What did he say?”
Ricard rested his hands on his knees importantly. “He clapped me on my shoulder, and he said, ‘Ric,’ he said, ‘the honour of the guild rests on your shoulders.’ That’s what he said.”
A month had passed since Tevi had arrived at the Treviston guildhall and it was the third time that Ricard had told of his part in the Troll Wars, three decades before. The story was not improving with retelling. Tevi’s eyes wandered around the dining room, but no escape was in sight.
The guildhall was a modest building, busiest during the summer months, when the town was the stopping point for people crossing the Langhope Pass. The harsh winter had blocked not only the pass, but also all other access to the town. Only three mercenaries other than herself were lodging in the guildhall. They were elderly officials, retired from armed service, who managed the guild affairs. Ricard was running out of people he could recount his life story to.
The tale rambled on. “I could see the rabbits everywhere. We called them ‘rabbits’ because they were always popping out of holes. I remember old Chalky, the cook. Do you know what he said? He said, ‘If ever I catch one, we’ll have rabbit stew all month.’” Ricard’s face broke into a smile, which grew to chuckles, his shoulders shaking. Tevi assumed that the joke had lost something with the passage of time.
The Exile and the Sorcerer Page 14