Jicks grinned, leaned forward and scratched behind her chestnut hinny’s ears. “We’re already good friends. I’ll see to it this herd is well looked after. Thanks for picking this lot out for us.”
“All right then,” the Stable Master said, satisfied. “Off you go, and fair weather and good luck to ye.”
Abi mounted her bay hinny and immediately noticed how the handsome creature stood rock solid for her, not even shifting a tiny bit. Already she liked this hinny. She noticed that the bridle had a brass plate with a name engraved on it. Belle. “You’re a sweet girl, Belle,” she said softly, and was rewarded by seeing the hinny’s ears flick back to catch her words.
Jicks clicked to her mount, and the hinny obediently moved into a brisk walk, heading for the main gate. Master Vance’s mount immediately followed. Belle wanted to go, so Abi gave her rein and a little nudge with her heels, and off they went, with Master Padrick and Master Byrne and the wagons and caravan bringing up the rear.
Before they were even out of Haven, Abi had cause to bless the Stablemaster’s choices. The hinnies moved right through the worst of the congestion in Haven without so much as a shiver or a misstep, not even when one careless little ran right under Belle’s nose to cross the street, an action which would have caused a horse to shy, rear, or even bolt. And once they were out of Haven, they all took up a comfortable, ground-devouring fast walk. So far as Abi was concerned this was a very good omen for the rest of the trip.
Once they were well out of Haven, Jicks held back her hinny so that she could ride side-by-side with Master Vance. “You’re the purse-holder, so here’s my question to you. It’d be cheaper to buy and eat provisions than to stop at inns for meals while we’re on roads that have inns. But buying and eating provisions is going to make for more monotonous meals. Which do you want to do?”
Master Vance chuckled. “I’m frugal, and I don’t think any of us is too particular in the way of food. Are you?” he called back over his shoulder.
“I once ate most of a stale loaf without noticing anything wrong with it, except it seemed to last longer,” said Master Padrick. “I was drawing the plans for my Master Work at the time.”
“I thought cheese rinds were the best part of the cheese,” laughed Byrne. “Actually, I still do.”
“Food is fuel,” Abi said briefly.
Jicks laughed out loud. “Well, all right then, I have my answer. The lads and I are used to merc’s rations, so it sounds as if we’re all on the same page. Good. That means we’ll make better time.” She touched her hinny with her heels, and moved back up to the front of the procession.
It seemed that she really was serious about covering as much ground as quickly as the hinnies would let her, because Abi’s stomach was actually growling when she called a halt at a bridge over a stream. “Dismount, take out the bits, let your hinnies graze a bit and drink,” she said as she dismounted. “If you don’t know how to slip the bits, wait for me and I’ll show you.”
While their mounts and the draft hinnies ate and drank, Jicks distributed hard sausage, cheese, and hard biscuit, which seemed like a perfectly good lunch to Abi. About half a candlemark later, they were back on the move, and they didn’t stop until dusk, when Jicks led them into a clearing at the side of the road.
The clearing looked like a place where people stopped to camp quite often. It had been grazed clean, and there was a firepit in the middle. They arranged the wagons in a triangle around the firepit, and unharnessed all the animals. Slipping the bits on the bridles—which essentially turned them into halters—Jicks picketed the hinnies out on a long line that allowed them to graze on anything within reach. The two “lads,” a couple of tall fellows alike enough to be brothers, poured out a very small measure of grain for them as well, and led them one at a time to a pond to drink, Stev got water for the camp with Abi’s help, while Jicks started a fire, slung a kettle over it and began making . . . something. Abi came over to watch when the water casks were full.
It was stew of some sort, from the root vegetables and dried meat she was putting into it. Abi took careful note. Jicks cocked an eye at her.
“Want to learn how to cook?” she asked.
Abi nodded.
“Just watch, then.” When she was done chopping vegetables and dried meat into the water, she gestured to Abi to follow. “See this, here?” she asked, opening a small box and taking out a tiny fabric packet. “All the herbs you need for one pot, plus salt. Already got them all done up, so no fussing when it comes time to stop. When I’m about to run out, I’ll take a candlemark or so to make more.”
She took the packet to the fire, shook out everything that was in it into the pot, and put the empty fabric back in the box. “That stew and traveler’s biscuit will be supper. When we’re done, I’ll clean out the pot, put in oats and water, and bury it in the coals and ash. That’ll be breakfast. I’ll put in raisins tonight. Tomorrow, it’ll be chopped cheese rinds. So we’ll get sweet one morning, savory the next.”
The lads’ names, as Abi learned over supper, were Bart and Bret, and they actually were brothers. They referred to Jicks as “Chief” and deferred to her in all things. Other than that, they were both brown, tall and broad, and looked like any of the Watch Abi had ever met. Purposeful men who knew their business.
With the meal, Jicks had supplied willowbark tea. As she sat down to eat, Abi suddenly understood why.
It had been a long day, and Abi was not used to spending that much time in the saddle. Neither were the other three Masters, who had declared themselves very stiff and sore on dismounting and, after supper, groaned on getting up. Abi herself felt that she had been using a great many muscles she was not used to using, and was very grateful for all the weapons training she had done with Master Leandro. If she hadn’t had that, and all the attendant exercise, she was pretty sure she’d be feeling crippled at this moment.
“I’ll be making allowances for you in the morning, Masters,” Jicks said politely, although Abi had the feeling she was having a hard time keeping a straight face at their expense. “I counted on this, you being city-bred and all. Don’t worry, it’ll get better.”
“I certainly hope so,” said Byrne, wretchedly, as he hobbled off to bed. The other two followed him. Abi waited by the fire for them to get settled, then climbed into the caravan, feeling her aches, and in the dim light from a single candle-lantern, climbed into the upper cupboard-bed and closed the curtains. The older men were already snoring, and she was just dropping into sleep when she felt the caravan move slightly as Jicks and the Herald climbed in. So ended her first day on the road.
* * *
• • •
She was not the first up, but she was the first of the Masters awake in the morning. She heard the sounds of people moving around outside. She squirmed into her clothing, trying not to make the caravan move too much, and slipped out into the cool dawn light.
The air was a little damp and full of the scent of torn foliage from where the hinnies had been eating all night. Jicks and the lads were already up as well—and practicing.
They all had the same kinds of wooden practice blades that Master Leandro used, and at the moment, the two lads were doing strike-and-block exercises as Jicks quietly counted out a cadence. Watching them, Abi felt an impulse and gave into it.
“Can I join?” she asked softly.
“I’d like that too,” said Herald Stev, who had come up behind her so quietly she wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been trained by her father.
Jicks raised an eyebrow. “There’s practice blades in the—”
“Oh, I have my own,” the Herald chuckled.
“Me too,” Abi added. They grinned at each other, and at Jick’s surprise, and went to the wagon holding their packs. Both of them got out practice blades and leather armor. Abi’s rig differed from the Herald’s only in that she had double knives instead of a s
word. They both pulled on the leather tunics, arm guards, and shin guards and buckled wide, heavy belts over the tunics. When they were ready, they rejoined the mercenaries on the cleared area of ground they were using to practice on.
Jicks eyed Abi’s knives dubiously. “You know, we have a saying about bringing a knife to a swordfight. . . ”
Abi just shrugged. “Then I’ll get thwacked.”
“Your bruises. I’ll go easy on you. Lads, put the Herald through his paces. Have at, girl.” Jicks took a guard stance and waited for Abi to attack.
Which, of course, Abi was not going to do. Not until she had seen what Jicks could do. She waited, patiently for Jicks to make the first move.
Finally Jicks got tired of waiting, came in with an overhand strike, and they were off.
Jicks was good, very good. But Abi had been trained by Master Leandro and her father. Very soon, Jicks was no longer “going easy on her,” and Herald Stev and Bret and Bart were no longer practicing; they were watching the two of them spar. Abi found herself grinning maniacally, she was having so much fun, even though she was sweating like a galloping horse.
Finally Abi felt something—a twig or a pebble under her foot—skid. It was at just the wrong moment, and she lost her balance, flailed a little, and started to go down. Jicks sensed her chance and came in at her fast. It was all over in a blur.
They both froze. Abi was half-sprawled on the turf. Jicks’ sword was trapped in the quillons of Abi’s right-hand dagger, though she could have freed it with a twist and hit home. The point of Abi’s left-hand dagger was in Jicks’ stomach.
Jicks looked down.
“Huh,” she said.
Bret began clapping, slowly. A moment later, his brother followed. Stev stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, grinning as if he had expected this.
Which . . . if he’s Papa’s agent . . . he was.
Now, Abi was absolutely certain that Stev really was an extraordinary Mindspeaker. And that his Companion really did have two broken forelegs. And that everything he’d said about the reason for being on this expedition was true.
But at that moment she was also as certain that he was one of Mags’ rare agents among the Heralds as she would have been if her father had told her as much. But, of course, Mags would have expected her to figure that out for herself.
Stev looked right at her and winked.
Jicks backed up, then held out a hand to Abi, who took it and hauled herself to her feet. “You’re good, girl,” the mercenary said, with a nod of appreciation. “Go run some drills with Bret. Now I want to see what this Herald is good for.”
Stev made a flourish with his sword, spinning it once and coming to rest in a guard position. “When you’re ready, Chief.”
Jicks grinned.
12
Once they all became accustomed to riding all day, the journey proceeded at a purposeful pace. Every day was fundamentally the same. Jicks and her lads, Stev, and Abi got up first, had a practice session, then got some sort of wash-up, either a full bath or just the basics with a rag and a pail, depending on whether they had stopped by a body of water or not. Abi got used to these ad-hoc baths in uncomfortably cold water, though admittedly she didn’t like them and hurried through them as fast as she could. Then everyone would eat. The other Masters would make whatever sort of bath they could manage while Jicks and the boys cleaned up the campsite and harnessed up all the animals. Stev and Abi helped with the hinnies. Then they’d be on the road, and if provisions were running low, they’d stop at the first village that had any sort of marketplace to replenish them. If there was a baker in the town selling pocket pies, Abi would always use some of her own money to get some for everyone, to vary their supper that night. She learned that every village had its own sort of traveler’s biscuit, every baker claimed his was tasty, and every one of them lied.
Twice on the way Jicks allowed a full day at a village, to get laundry done and allow everyone to have a proper hot bath. Which was just as well, because otherwise Stev would have started to look like a Trainee in Grays, rather than a full Herald in Whites.
The farther south they got, the more rugged the landscape became. Gently rolling hills became steeper and taller, the road got rougher, and there were fewer farms with tilled land and more with herds of sheep and goats and, occasionally, odd, shaggy red cattle. The craggy, towering hills were covered in brush and grass; trees grew only along watercourses and down in the valleys.
And the farms got fewer and farther apart. Not only were there flocks of sheep, goats, and the odd herds of cattle roaming the hills, there were also occasional herds of red deer or single stags. Despite being farther south, the air was cooler and damper, and the prevailing scents on it were bracken and gorse. It rained as often as it was sunny, and when it did, she, Jicks, and the Masters rode in the caravan. Mostly they listened to Jicks’ tall tales when they were confined to the caravan.
Abi was used to having a lot of people around her, used to Haven, and all that empty land and silence broken only by the sounds of far-off sheep, birds, and wild animals was . . . unnerving.
As the days grew longer and longer, they stopped later and later and covered more ground. By now, though, their camps were models of efficiency, and the hinnies practically put themselves and the wagons in place without needing to be guided, so they spent a lot less time getting set up. Which was a good thing, as in these hills, once the sun set it got dark very quickly.
“Where are all the people?” she asked Jicks, finally, after a full day of seeing nothing and nobody. They were all sitting around the fire, wearily waiting for the stew to finally finish cooking. Stev had taken Abi out to forage to add to their plain meal; the peppery, fresh taste of watercress added a much needed touch of flavor, and Stev seemed to know exactly what mushrooms were safe to eat and which weren’t. He’d taken his bow with him as he always did, but luck hadn’t been with them that night. No hares had been startled up out of the bracken to add to the pot.
Jicks chuckled. “Where you can’t see them,” she said. “Those cattle, sheep, and goats you’ve been seeing all need watching. The cattle are pastured in the valleys but away from the road. Each herd has a woman watching; they live in summer huts and guard and milk the cattle and make cheese all summer long. Then they are joined by some of their family to drive the cattle back to the family farm for the winter. The sheep and goats are in their summer pastures too, and every flock and herd in the hills has a shepherd or two that stays with them all spring and summer and into fall, when they’re brought back down to the homestead to be cared for over winter. And the homesteads are hidden in the valleys away from the road to prevent casual thieves from spotting them.”
Bret got up, peered in the pot, gave it a stir, and sat back down again. “Lots of cattle thieves in the hills,” he said laconically.
“But Valdemar doesn’t have casual looters,” Abi protested. “We have the Guard to keep people safe.”
“This wasn’t always part of Valdemar,” Jicks reminded her. “Outside of the villages, people are wary of strangers. Some of these homesteads have been here for centuries. Some of these clans have a tradition of cattle and sheep theft from each other going back that far. Plus, there’s bandits, the closer you get to the Border. The kind of bastards people hire the Harriers to get rid of, over on the other side where your Guard won’t go. So you don’t make your buildings obvious, you make them blend into the countryside or even hide them if you can, and hope they aren’t spotted.” Jicks poked at the fire with a stick. “And speaking of the Border, we’ll be there in a day, two at the most.”
“And then our real work can begin!” Master Vance said, rubbing his hands.
“And then we’ll be staying in villages until our work is done in each one,” added Byrne, forlornly. “I’d like a proper bath more than once a fortnight.”
The three mercenaries exchanged
amused looks, but they kept any comments to themselves. There was a pause in conversation, though, and the fire crackled and threw sparks up into the night.
“First stop is just about a day past the Border station,” Jicks said. “Especially at the rate we’ve been traveling. Not sure if they’ll have anything you can do for them, but that’s the first sizable village, and we need provisions, so we’ll be stopping overnight at the very least.” She poked the fire again, thoughtfully, releasing the scent of resinous wood they’d gathered from beneath the trees. It was trees that they looked for now for their nightly stops, rather than water sources. There were plenty of the latter. These hills were alive with tiny springs, little threads of creeks, rills, and brooks, which did, indeed, to Abi’s delight, ‘babble’ as books said they did. “I’m going to assume that since we brought up an entire group, they are all still speaking to one another and not feuding, and I can ask whoever is in charge if he knows what most needs mending thereabouts.”
“Or replacing altogether,” Padrick reminded her. “If they have the labor, we have the ability to help them completely replace anything that’s tumbled down.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
This time it was Bart who checked the pot and sat back down, disappointed. Abi passed him a fistful of cress. He made a face over it, but munched it stolidly anyway. Jicks put another log of their limited wood on the fire, carefully, so as not to bring the temperature of the stew down. Bret gestured to Abi to pass the cress, and he stuffed two handfuls into his mouth. The silence was broken only by the sound of two sets of jaws munching leaves as assiduously as a couple of cattle, the snapping of the fire, and a great many crickets.
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