‘For the wounded,’ said Hal. ‘A man gets a gut wound and you give him water, he dies almost certainly. You give him wine, he has a chance to live.’
‘You know your battle medicine,’ said the teamster.
‘What’s your name?’ asked Hal.
‘I’m Jeremiah,’ said the wagoner. His anger had lessened, and he put out his hand.
Hal took it and said, ‘How many drivers do you have?’
‘A full thirty-five. We had eighteen wagons of wine-casks, all full loads of casks, four hundred and fifty of them! We bring them in and what do I get? A piece of parchment with a fancy seal on it!’ He waved his finger under Hal’s nose. ‘They took my wagons and parked them by the barracks, told me to settle my men in best I can. Most of them were sleeping in the stables behind the miserable inn I found, and now they’re turning us into bloody militia!’
‘May I see that parchment?’ asked Hal.
Jeremiah reached into his tunic and pulled it out. Hal read it: it was written in a florid style, in a hurry, and almost illegible, but at the bottom was a wax seal of Salador and a big signature with a flourish. ‘We need a forger,’ said Hal.
Ty grinned. ‘I think I can find one. See you back at the inn.’
‘Hey!’ said Jeremiah as Ty ran off with his parchment. ‘I need that to get paid!’
Hal put a restraining hand on the wagoner’s massive chest and spoke in quiet tones. ‘Easy. You’ll never get your money from Duke Arthur. Most of your men will end up dead and when this war is over Arthur will either be hanging for treason or he’ll be taxing the hell out of everyone in the duchy to help Prince Oliver pay off his war debts to the Eastern Kingdom moneylenders.’ Hal glanced around to see if anyone overheard his remarks, then continued, ‘If my plan works, you’ll get out of here and be headed back home, with gold – not as much as you’re due, maybe – and your men alive and safe and able to return to their families.’ He looked up at the big man. ‘If a man has to fight, it should be for his own home, not for another man’s ambition.’
‘You’re not just an ordinary mercenary, are you?’
Hal smiled. ‘I’m ordinary enough that I don’t wish to be wall fodder for Arthur when he sacks Silden.’
Jeremiah nodded. ‘I’ve seen generals feed militia to the wall, saving their regulars until there’s a breach.’
‘Gather your men and meet us in an hour at the Sign of the Dancing Pony. Have they unloaded your wagons?’
‘They were still there last night. The soldiers here are so this way and that, up, then down, no one’s doing anything. I had to go and put nosebags on my thirty-six horses and carry water for an hour because the baggage boys in the army were too busy getting ready for battle. For all I know they’re still sitting there.’
‘Go see if they are. If they haven’t unloaded the wagons, that would be a good thing.’ He slapped Jeremiah on the shoulder and the large man moved off.
Glancing around, Hal didn’t detect anyone paying attention to him, so he hurried off to return to the Dancing Pony.
In a shadow in a deep doorway, across the road from the entrance to the gatehouse over the Farmer’s Gate, a figure in a hooded robe watched Hal depart. ‘What is Henry conDoin doing in Salador?’ she muttered. She cursed the gods of fickle opportunity and wished she had departed last night instead of waiting for this morning. Lady Franciezka Sorboz, leader of the King of Roldem’s intelligence network, ducked behind a moving wagon that masked her from the view of the soldiers over by the gate, and vanished into the city.
Hal returned to the Dancing Pony to find Ty in the corner with a strange-looking little man with hunched shoulders and a scraggly beard, wearing the oddest flop hat Hal had seen. It was a lumpy thing of dark-red velvet, ancient, stained, and discoloured.
‘This is Sheridan,’ said Ty. Lowering his voice he said, ‘He’s our forger.’
The man had a very curious pair of spectacles on his nose: square lenses of thick, transparent quartz or glass through which he peered at the promissory note taken from Jeremiah. ‘Ah, you don’t need me to forge a document and seal, my friend,’ he said, putting it down. ‘This will do nicely for what you want.’
‘Really?’ asked Ty.
‘See, this document has been used a few times. That’s why it’s so smudged. We just cover up the signature and seal so they don’t get damaged, then we strip away most of the old ink, and write in what we want.’ He took off his spectacles and smiled. ‘Ten gold and I’ll have it done in an hour.’
Ty said, ‘Done.’ Looking at Hal, he said, ‘What do you want it to say?’
‘The bearer of this document is acting under my personal orders and every effort is to be made to help him in any way he requires.’
Ty grinned. ‘That’s vague enough.’
‘Ah, that’ll take … I can write that right here,’ said Sheridan. ‘I’ll need a glass of strong spirits; brandy or whisky would be better.’
‘I’ll see what they have,’ said Hal.
He went to the bar and said what he wanted and the innkeeper reached under the bar and pulled out a large porcelain jug. He pulled out the cork and poured the amber liquid into a glass, and from two feet away Hal could smell the bitter, volatile aroma of distilled grain. ‘Don’t get much call for this,’ the man said.
‘I can see why,’ said Hal. ‘It’s making my eyes water from here.’
Hal returned to the table as Jeremiah entered with two of his drivers with him. ‘Wagons are still sitting where we left them. Horses are hock-deep in their own manure and no one has fed or watered them.’
‘That’s good news, really,’ said Hal. ‘Have a drink and wait a bit, and with luck we’ll be out of the city in a few hours.’
Hal handed the glass of whisky to Sheridan, who arranged the parchment, placing a cloth carefully over the seal and signature, then took off his hat and from inside pulled out a case. He opened the case and withdrew a flat-sided blade. Then from a tiny pouch he sprinkled a white powder over the writing. He started to trickle the whisky down the blade and then scraped gently. As he did so, the letters began to fade.
‘Aren’t you afraid that stuff will burn holes in the parchment?’
That brought a barking laugh from Sheridan. ‘I’ll need another, please.’
Hal got up and fetched back another small cup of the drink. ‘This smells like the oil used in lamps.’
Sheridan took the glass, but instead of pouring it, he drank it in one gulp. ‘Takes some getting used to,’ he said in hoarse tones, ‘but it has its uses.’
Before their eyes they could see the lettering continue to blur and fade. ‘The nice thing about this,’ said Sheridan, ‘is the soldiers here have seen enough of these used-again documents that they probably won’t think twice of it.’
Hal said, ‘How much longer?’
‘Take a few minutes for this to dry,’ said Sheridan. ‘Then five to write what you want.’
Hal nodded to Ty and pointed to his saddle-bag, which was slung over his shoulder. ‘If you please.’
Ty removed the coin purse and counted out the ten gold pieces, sliding them across the table. Sheridan scooped them up and Hal said, ‘Now comes the hard part.’
‘What?’ asked Ty.
‘We need two uniforms.’
Ty let out a slow sigh. ‘I don’t expect you have us running over to the barracks’ quartermaster and asking nicely for a pair?’
‘No.’ Hal stood up. Picking up the pouch of gold, he handed it to Jeremiah. ‘Hold on to this. It’s the gold I promised you, but I might need to buy a thing or two before it’s over.’
‘Understood,’ said Jeremiah, hefting the small sack and liking the weight of it.
The two young swordsmen left the inn and Ty said, ‘Where are we going to get uniforms?’
‘From soldiers,’ said Hal brightly.
Ty rolled his eyes but said nothing. Hal looked around. ‘Have you been in this city before?’
‘A couple of times,’
said Ty. ‘That’s how I knew where the Thieves’ Quarter – not officially its name – was and where to ask for someone like Sheridan.’
Hal thought for a moment, then said, ‘Lead the way.’
Ty shrugged. ‘What’s your thinking?’
‘Two guardsmen vanishing in the middle of the day is difficult. Impossible anywhere near the musters. But two vanishing in the Thieves’ Quarter?’
‘It’s happened before and no one who sees us is likely to say anything unless a reward is offered, and that wouldn’t be for at least two or three days, if at all, given this madness.’ Ty’s mood brightened. ‘I like this idea better than before.’
They moved out of the crowded eastern market area, through streets of small businesses and homes. The so-called Thieves’ Quarter proved to be everything Ty hoped it would be – dark with high buildings over narrow streets, once well-to-do neighbourhoods run down and turned into tenements. Ty pointed. ‘We call these “rental barracks” in Olasko. Four or five little rooms in what used to be a house, each now with a family in it. You’d better like your neighbours.’
The stench that swept over Hal from the streets was overpowering. Ty noticed his reaction and said, ‘Duke Arthur hasn’t seen fit to repair the sewers around here for a number of years, so what gets dumped into the street stays in the street.’ He pointed up to the windows overhanging the street. ‘Best to wear a very broad hat if you spend any time around here.’
Hal nodded. ‘Soldiers?’
‘Could be anywhere.’ Ty looked around then said, ‘That way.’ He pointed down a wider street.
‘Why this way?’ asked Hal, following.
‘Bit of a local market down there. It’s where I found the lad who led me to Sheridan.’
‘Not your everyday market,’ said Hal.
‘It is for this sort of neighbourhood.’
As soon as they reached the little market, Hal realized they stood out. They might not be dressed in a rich fashion, but they were clean and their boots and weapons were well cared for. As they moved through the crowd, Hal felt watched every step of the way.
Some of the local vendors pulled aside their wares, not eager for strange eyes on them, while others ignored their passing or even viewed them as potential customers. Hal saw packets of paper folded and sealed with wax, which he assumed contained drugs. Every manner of trinket and goods was on display, most likely all stolen or smuggled. Gambling was underway in two stalls, one with cards, the other game involving knucklebones.
Finally Ty saw what he was looking for. He motioned for Hal to follow and the young duke found a clutch of urchins gathered at the end of a small cul-de-sac. They eyed the approaching swordsmen and it was unclear if they viewed them as prey or predators.
Finally one of the bolder boys shouted, ‘What’s it about, then?’
‘Squeaky?’
A small boy from the back of the pack emerged, and smiled when he saw Ty. He was half the size of the others, wearing a tunic that was properly for a boy twice his size, had a rough-cut mat of dirty black hair, and a round face. ‘He’s all right,’ he said and the other boys drifted off. When the three of them were alone, he asked, ‘Sheridan did alright for ya, then?’
‘Fine,’ said Ty. ‘How would you like to make a little more?’
‘Always,’ said Squeaky.
‘Is there a place close by where my friend and I might have a quiet word with two of the city’s garrison?’
Squeaky looked around to make sure no one was listening. ‘I don’t think that’s such a good idea,’ he said. ‘Even the dodgy guards are acting all proper like, given the fuss stirred up by the muster. They’re more worried about having to deal with a riot than making a little gold for looking the other way. Fact is, they’re distracted enough already and you can plunder and pillage as you like, I reckon.’
‘Well,’ said Ty, ‘it’s not bribing them we need, but rather to borrow some things from them.’
‘I don’t want to know more,’ said Squeaky. ‘How many do you need?’
‘Two is all we need,’ said Hal.
‘About our size if you can arrange it.’
Squeaky fixed the two swordsmen with a narrow gaze. ‘If it’s a bit of murder or assault you want, I’m your boy. But I need money now, two gold.’
Two gold was two days’ wages for a master craftsman. Squeaky had been content with a single silver piece to introduce Ty to Sheridan. ‘That’s quite a bit,’ said Ty.
‘I got to show a coin to the crushers to get them to come, and they’ll almost certainly take it from me. If you don’t do whatever it is you want, they’ll keep it and be looking for me.’
‘Fair enough, given the risk,’ agreed Hal. He reached into his own belt-purse and fished out two pieces of gold.
Squeaky said, ‘Here’s as good as anywhere. The crushers will expect no good and anyone who sees what happens isn’t going to be wanting to talk to anyone about this.’ He dashed off.
‘Now?’ asked Ty.
‘When the soldiers show up, we remove their uniforms and try not to get too much blood on them.’
‘The soldiers or the uniforms?’
‘The uniforms,’ said Hal dryly. He quickly outlined what he had in mind.
In less than a quarter of an hour, people in the small market began diving for cover, opening a tunnel that revealed a small boy being chased by two soldiers. Squeaky ran to where Hal and Ty stood and ducked behind the two swordsmen.
As planned, Hal and Ty stood with arms crossed, as the two soldiers came to a halt. ‘Give up that boy!’ shouted a red-faced sergeant, out of breath from the chase.
His companion was less patient and put his hand on Hal’s chest as if to push him out of the way.
‘I ain’t going with no pederast!’ shouted Squeaky.
The sergeant’s eyes widened and he began to say something, but at that moment Ty’s sword came out of his scabbard and the pommel slammed into the point of the sergeant’s jaw behind his ear.
Hal leaned away from the man who had his hand on his chest, and struck him with a balled fist three times in the face. In seconds both men were unconscious.
With a grin Ty said, ‘See, no blood.’
‘Greed and caution,’ said Hal. ‘Greed wins just about every time.’
Squeaky said, ‘My other coin?’
‘What did you say?’ asked Ty.
‘I told them a fat merchant had died and this was all I could get out of his purse.’ He took the gold coin Hal had removed from the sergeant’s belt-pouch. ‘I told them if they’d help me move his fat carcass, I’d split the gold with them. When the sergeant grabbed my coin, I shouted I’d find someone else and ran.’
‘Bright lad,’ said Hal.
They quickly stripped the bodies and donned the uniform: tunics, tabards, and helms. They assumed no one would notice their own dark trousers were of better weave than those the soldiers were wearing.
Squeaky, the other boys, and a couple of unsavoury-looking thugs had gathered to watch. When Hal was satisfied they looked enough like members of the city garrison, he turned to Squeaky. ‘We’re off now.’
‘What do you want us to do with these two?’ asked the boy.
‘Know any Durban slavers?’ asked Hal, joking.
‘Not from Durban, but there’s a gang runs up here once every so often from Jonril.’ Hal was momentarily taken aback, then he realized the boy was talking about the original city in Kesh, not the fortress in Crydee named for that city.
‘Care to make them an offer?’ asked Ty, not joking.
‘Well, normally that would be just the thing, but with this city bottled up as it were, no slaver is going to be seen here for a few weeks. If we keep them hidden, we got to feed them and then there’s the risk we get caught out, and that means the hangman for all of us.’
At the mention of the hangman, the two thugs and most of the boys decided it was time to be somewhere else.
Squeaky grinned. ‘You don’t really want me to
keep these boys cool until some slavers show up?’
‘No,’ said Hal, returning the boy’s infectious smile. ‘Just keep them confined for a while.’ He fished out his purse and tossed it to the boy. ‘There should be enough in that for you to buy some help. Keep these two until the day after tomorrow. Put something into their drink and before dawn dump them somewhere they’ll be found – in their smallclothes, reeking of cheap ale. Let them explain to their commander why they’re in that condition.’
Squeaky laughed. ‘I like that!’ He turned to the remaining lads, and said, ‘Up we go, boys. Let’s get them to Granny’s and see to their keeping!’
Four boys picked up each of the unconscious soldiers and hauled them scuffing and bumping across the cobbles as they were taken from the thieves’ market.
Hal said, ‘Let’s go move some wagons.’
Two hours later, a company of teamsters escorted by two soldiers appeared outside the barracks. In orderly fashion, Jeremiah and his boys began inspecting the wagons, horses, and lashings on the load.
A corporal from the barracks came over and said, ‘What’s this, then?’
‘Orders,’ said Hal, wearing the sergeant’s uniform.
‘No one told me about any orders to move this wine,’ said the corporal, being careful to stay just shy of sounding belligerent with a superior.
‘And I expect the chancellor runs down here every time he decides to issue orders to see how you feel about it, right, Corporal?’ Hal let his voice rise until he was shouting the man’s rank in his face.
The corporal took a step back, but then his brow furrowed. ‘Can’t say I know you, Sergeant, and I know every sergeant in this city.’
He appeared to be verging on calling for others inside the barracks to come out, but Hal cut him off. He reached inside his tabard and pulled the false orders from his belt and said, ‘That’s because I’m new to the city. I used to be a corporal in Bantree.’ Hal thanked the gods he had been forced to study Kingdom geography when he was younger and knew the position of every kingdom and ducal garrison. ‘Got promoted. With all this militia, the duke needs more sergeants.’ He thrust the orders into the corporal’s hands. ‘You haven’t got your promotion yet?’
Magician's End Page 20