Artesans of Albia

by Cas Peace

  Sullyan went over to add her own reassurance. “Cal will come back safe, Rienne, Robin will see to that. Sonten needs him too badly to harm him overmuch. Cal is not without defenses. He will be alright, I promise you.”

  Rienne pushed herself out of Taran’s embrace. “How can you say that?” she snapped. “Look at Taran! Just look what’s happened to him! Why couldn’t you have got Cal away safely, too? Why did you leave him behind?”

  Sobbing inconsolably, she turned and fled back into the palace. Sullyan watched her go, tears in her eyes.

  Taran came close and put his arm around her thin shoulders. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, “she didn’t mean it. She’s just upset. I understand how she feels. I want to rage at someone too because of my fear for Cal. She’ll be better once she’s let it out. I’ll go after her. Maybe I can calm her down.”

  “If there is anything I can do, Taran, please call me,” said Sullyan sadly, watching as he limped stiffly after Rienne.

  He was right. The truth was that she was feeling guilty about what had happened to Cal, and she was undeniably responsible for his being caught up in her problems. She had known of her friends’ presence in Andaryon before the duel with Rykan. She really should have sent a patrol out to guide them into the Citadel. She had not, and now she was helpless to do anything to aid Cal and must leave others to do her fighting for her. It was not a situation she was used to, and it galled her.

  Another figure emerged into the courtyard, interrupting her thoughts. He was walking slowly and carefully with a stick to aid him. Seeing him gladdened her heart after Rienne’s distress. She walked toward the Count and accepted his outstretched hand with a smile. He pulled her gently to him and planted a kiss on her lips. She felt herself flush and he laughed.

  Bull walked past them and gave Marik a teasing glare. “You sly dog! You wouldn’t dare do that if Robin were here.”

  Marik grinned.

  Sullyan stood back to look at him. It was two weeks since he had been so gravely injured, and Deshan’s healing, along with Idrimar’s careful nursing, had brought him along nicely. His arm was no longer in a sling, but she could tell by the way he carried it that the shoulder was still tender. The wound in his back was clearly healing well, and the nerves and muscles were only stiff due to lack of use.

  “How do you feel, Ty?”

  “I am well enough, Brynne,” he assured her. “I have only to get my strength back, and it’s coming slowly. Idri still wants to keep me wrapped in blankets like a baby, and I suppose I shouldn’t blame her. But I’m getting bored, and I’m afraid I’ll get fat on what she insists on feeding me. I’d give much to get back on the training ground and start working again.”

  “Not too soon,” she cautioned. “That shoulder needs to strengthen before you tax it overmuch. Listen to the Princess. Let her pamper you for a while. You might as well enjoy it while you can.”

  He smiled, his eyes glittering. “Oh, I am, Brynne. Believe me, I am.”

  She smiled at his smugness. “Well, I hope you are both being careful. You are not married yet, you know.”

  He feigned a hurt expression. “I may not have much power, but I know enough not to let her get pregnant. I can at least get that right.”

  “I hope so. I can just imagine what Pharikian would say—not to mention her brother—if she went to her wedding swelling with child. I have heard that the Heir is a stickler for protocol and correctness, and he is apparently very protective of his sister. If he was to hear of your premarital … arrangements, it might prejudice him against you.”

  Marik’s pale eyes widened. “Do you think so?”

  “Definitely.”

  He stared at her a moment before breaking into a grin. “Damn you, Brynne Sullyan. I never know when you’re being serious. When will I learn to stop falling for your innocent face and barbed comments?”

  “When you are in your grave!”

  She laughed, their easy banter lightening her soul. Taking his arm, she steered him slowly after the others.

  Chapter Seven

  Robin wasted little time marshaling the Major’s company. Once Sergeant Dexter understood the seriousness of the situation, he swiftly alerted the men. They greeted Robin warmly and gathered around him as he entered the barracks, clamoring for news of Sullyan. The Andaryans trailed Robin nervously, uncertain of their reception, yet once Robin had explained their relationship with Sullyan and what they had done for her, they were accepted without rancor.

  Vanyr was amazed and turned to murmur to Ky-shan beside him. “I’ve never seen anything like this. These men are treating their Captain more like a friend. The love they bear both him and the Major is obvious. I try to be a fair and firm commander, and all my men respect me, but this goes far beyond anything I’ve experienced. These Albian swordsmen sound more like a family than a company of fighting men.”

  Ky-shan grinned. “I’m sure the Skip will explain it to you if you ask him. For me, all I care about is how quickly they obey his orders.”

  Robin’s orders were obeyed swiftly enough to satisfy the most critical of commanders. His briefing over, the men ran for their horses, mounting and forming up behind Robin with the seamen absorbed into their ranks. Robin moved them out and rode at their head, Vanyr and Ky-shan just behind him.

  Once they were underway, Dexter nudged his horse up close to Robin’s. Keeping his voice low, he asked, “How is the Major, Captain? What are her chances of returning to us?”

  Robin glanced at him. He had not been completely candid in his briefing, and the quick-witted Dexter had realized there was more to be told. His clear concern entitled him to the truth.

  “That’s partly up to us, Dex. The artifact Sonten is so desperate to get hold of is actually the key to her survival. If we want her back, we have to stop it falling into his hands. But he’s still holding Cal hostage, as far as we know, and Sullyan will kill me if anything happens to him. Our two objectives are Cal and the Staff, but Cal takes priority. We also have to think about the safety of the villagers. We can’t allow Sonten to hold them to ransom or do them any harm. If necessary, we’ll let him take the Staff and run him down later. Those are her orders, backed up by the General. This time, I intend to obey them.”

  Dexter nodded. “Understood, Captain. But if the demon does take the Staff, let me and the boys hunt him down. It’s the least we can do. They’ve been fretting about her all the time she’s been gone. They need to do something to help.”

  Robin smiled grimly. “They’ll get their chance, Dex, don’t worry. They’ll get their chance.”

  Robin was both pleased and proud that his men had taken little convincing to accept the Andaryans. He could hear snatches of conversation in the ranks of horsemen behind him, coupled with good-natured banter as the seamen told how they had helped Sullyan win her place in the Hierarch’s forces. Their instant camaraderie took care of one of his main concerns. His one remaining fear revolved around Vanyr and Ky-shan. The pirate leader might have set aside his dislike of Vanyr for the moment, but it would only take one word from him, one hint of what Vanyr had done to Sullyan at the Hierarch’s palace, to reach the ears of Robin’s men, and the tall Commander might never see his homeland again. The Captain could only hope that their mission would keep them occupied, and that Ky-shan wouldn’t let anything slip.

  They arrived at the outskirts of Hyecombe just after nightfall. Using his intimate knowledge of the terrain, Robin had taken them cross-country, saving precious hours. When they were close enough, he slowed them and sent a couple of outriders ahead to contact the sentries of the other two units. On receiving their report, he led his men into the encampment to confer with the other two captains.

  An outlying hay barn was doing duty as a makeshift command post. As he strode inside, Vanyr, Ky-shan, Almid, and Kester at his back, Robin immediately gained the attention of the two men waiting for him. He was ready, having been forewarned by General Blaine that one of the captains was Parren. The young man had bee
n harshly disciplined by Colonel Vassa and stripped of privileges for weeks after their duel, but Robin knew that Parren was too good a field officer to lose. Vassa had decided not to transfer him, as he had threatened, but to give him a second chance. The other two men involved, Parren’s corporal and sergeant, were summarily dismissed from the King’s service, and the corporal was imprisoned for his attempted rape of Rienne, but Parren had gradually insinuated himself back into Vassa’s good books.

  Now he regarded Robin with barely concealed dislike. He had probably, thought Robin, convinced himself that neither his rival nor Sullyan would return from Andaryon, so this development would only embitter him further. Robin could sense that Vanyr had picked up Parren’s aura of hatred, and he hoped the Commander wouldn’t make trouble. This would be delicate enough without tempers getting frayed.

  Parren, the purple line of his scar showing starkly against his pale cheek, feigned disinterest. He lounged indolently against the barn wall, his hands thrust through his sword belt. The other captain, who was also under Vassa’s command, was a small, agile man called Baily, and he willingly briefed Robin on the current situation. Robin tried hard to concentrate on Baily’s words, but all the time he could feel Parren’s eyes scraping his back.

  Trying to ignore it, he asked, “How are Sonten’s men deployed?”

  Baily brought both hands together. “In a cordon round the whole village. The area’s sewn up tighter than a whore’s purse. They had too much time to entrench before we got here.”

  Parren spat, making as much noise as possible. “Couldn’t you have alerted us sooner, Tamsen? You must have known they were coming.”

  “Not in time, I didn’t.” Robin threw the other man a sour look, galled to have to admit this in front of him. “We knew nothing of Sonten’s extra troops, or that he had already sent them through the Veils. We only rescued Bull and Taran yesterday. We thought we were on his heels and that he’d have trouble crossing the Veils. It seems we were wrong.”

  Parren straightened from his slouch. “Well, he’s out-thought you properly for sure. We’ll be hard pressed to budge him before he gets what he wants. Even then, he has enough men to keep us occupied while he slips away.”

  “We’ll have to make counter plans if he tries,” said Robin. “Commander Vanyr and Ky-shan here can take their men and go after him if necessary. They know their own lands best. The rest of us will hold as many of them as we can and do our best to make sure they don’t escape.”

  Parren’s flat gaze roved insultingly over the Andaryans. “And how can we trust that these … demons … will do as you say? What’s to stop them from turning on us in the dark?”

  “They won’t turn on us, Parren, because they’re friends. I’d trust any of them before I’d trust you, that’s for sure!”

  Vanyr’s hand had dropped to his sword hilt, and Ky-shan’s expression was bleak.

  Parren went white and he even drew a short length of steel before the looming figures of Ky-shan and Vanyr forced him to snap it back home. He glared at them with clear hostility. Ignoring him, trying to stay calm, Robin turned back to Baily. “How many men do you think Sonten has?”

  Baily shrugged. “About two hundred and fifty, I reckon. I have no idea how many are in the village itself, but if the numbers in the cordon are anything to go by, he must have at least that.”

  Robin stared at him, dismayed. His own command numbered eighty, and the other two units would have about the same. Equal odds were not what he had hoped for. Yet he could hardly expect Blaine to release any more men. It would leave the Manor dangerously low on defenses. He had to make do with what he had.

  “Intelligence,” he muttered, ignoring Parren’s insulting snort, “that’s what we need here.” He turned to Ky-shan. “What are the chances of one of your men getting inside Sonten’s cordon?”

  Ky-shan’s pale blue eyes gleamed in the lamplight. “I can call for volunteers, Skip. Do you want me to do it now?”

  Robin nodded. “It has to be tonight if we’re going to do it. Sonten might already have men digging out that Staff and I don’t want to gift him more time than I have to. The darkness will hide our man and make it easier for him to move about unrecognized.” He turned to include Vanyr, Parren, and Baily. “What we’ll need is a distraction along the cordon, just enough to let someone slip through. Although how he’ll get out again is anyone’s guess.”

  Ky-shan grinned. “Don’t worry about that, Skip. I think I know just the man. Let me see if I can persuade him.”

  As the seaman left the barn, Vanyr moved a step closer to Robin. Parren glared at them both and kept his hand on his sword hilt. Robin’s heart fell, hoping the sour young captain wasn’t going to jeopardize his plans. Parren had no loyalty to Sullyan—just the opposite, in fact—and now that Robin knew the significance of the Staff he wouldn’t bet against Parren trying to sabotage their efforts to regain it.

  Ky-shan soon returned, bringing with him a small, wiry man. Brown and weathered as all the pirates were, he had a thin, pointed nose and chin, and his tiny bright eyes were pale brown. Robin recognized him. His name was Zolt, and he had been an enthusiastic harrier of Rykan’s forces. His face bore a mischievous grin, and he seemed more than willing to carry out Robin’s plan. “What do you want to know once I’m in, Skip?” he asked.

  Robin briefly outlined his main objectives.

  “If possible, I want to know what’s happened to Cal and where he’s being held.” He ticked the items off his fingers. “Then I need to know if Sonten has identified the Staff’s position, and whether he’s doing anything about recovering it. Next, I want to know what’s happened to the villagers and whether any of them have been harmed. And lastly, a more accurate assessment of Sonten’s numbers and how they’re distributed within the village.”

  “Is that all?” Zolt grinned. “That won’t take me long.”

  “Just be careful,” warned Robin. “Without this knowledge our hands are tied. We need you in and out as soon as you can manage it.”

  The little man grinned again. “This is right up my rope, Skip. Don’t worry.”

  Ky-shan clapped his man on the back. “He used to be a wharf rat,” he said to Robin. The term meant nothing to Robin, who had never seen a commercial port.

  Ky-shan elaborated. “Wharf rat is what the port authorities call those who make their living by liberating items from the cargoes of merchant ships. They climb the hawsers by night, break into the holds, collect a store of goods, and then slip out again before anyone knows they’ve been. Very good at it, they are, if they live to be Zolt’s age.”

  Parren leaned forward. “Oh, a common little thief,” he sneered. He jumped backward as the wickedly sharp knife which had materialized in Zolt’s hand was jammed against his belly, poised to slide home. He didn’t even have time to grasp his sword hilt. He turned white with shock, and swore.

  Zolt hissed into his face. “Less of the common, if you don’t mind, my scarred friend.”

  Beads of sweat appeared on Parren’s brow and he muttered a grudging apology. The little seaman stepped back and the knife disappeared. Robin shot Parren a look of disgust before turning to Zolt once more.

  “We’ll create a diversion by attacking part of the cordon. That should give you the chance to slip past. Once you’re inside, though, getting out again will be your own problem.”

  “I’ll be fine, Skip,” said Zolt, throwing Parren a menacing look before leaving to make his preparations.

  Robin turned to the other two captains. “Can we expect your help with the diversion?”

  Baily nodded instantly, but Parren held Robin’s eyes longer than he would have liked. “Who put you in charge?” he demanded.

  Vanyr stiffened, but Baily moved quickly. “We’re here to achieve the same end, aren’t we? What does it matter who makes the decisions?”

  Parren stared at him coldly, then shrugged. Too low for Baily to hear, he muttered, “Oh, it matters.”

  Robin wisely d
ecided to let it drop.

  The Captain briefed his men and gave them their orders. This might be a diversionary tactic, but it would also serve to test just how well organized and determined Sonten’s defenses were. Baily and Parren had already failed to make an impression on the cordon in the short time they had been here, but if the Albians could account for some of Sonten’s men in this feint it would increase their chances when the main assault began.

  Moving silently, Robin joined the line of crossbowmen facing the outer houses of the village. Vanyr and Ky-shan—neither of whom were skilled with the weapon—looked on. The plan was for the bowmen to punch a hole in the cordon, which the swordsmen would then try to keep open just long enough for Zolt to slip through. Then they would retreat. Robin wasn’t prepared to risk too many men in the darkness.

  Once he was happy with their positions, Robin gave the order to pick targets. The men in Sonten’s cordon were spread around the perimeter of the village, using outbuildings and sheds as cover, and Robin had instructed his bowmen to approach as stealthily as possible before loosing their bolts. So far, no alarm had been raised. The swordsmen were crouched behind the bowmen, weapons drawn, ready to move in once the bows discharged. Zolt was hiding somewhere in the darkness, wrapped in a dark cloak and armed only with his wicked knife. He had refused any other weapons, saying that if his knife was not sufficient then he would deserve whatever he got. Respecting his confidence, Robin did not argue.

  From behind a large tree, Robin took careful aim at his chosen target. The man was half-hidden by the shed he was using as cover. Robin had spotted him when he moved a fraction, possibly easing cramped muscles. Robin could just draw a bead on his head.

  Vanyr’s voice came softly over Robin’s shoulder. “You’ll never hit him at that angle.”

  His voice tight with concentration, Robin said, “Would you care to make a wager, Torman?” He let off a bolt that sped straight and true, killing the man instantly and pinning him to the side of the shed. He heard other crossbows discharging, followed by the grunts and cries of wounded men. The alarm was raised and Sonten’s men began shooting back, but they aimed blindly because Robin had yet to release the swordsmen.