Tal stood up. “Thank you, sir.”
The Duke waved the guards away and took Tal by the arm. Steering him toward the door, he said, “Go now and rest for the night. I have business here with Leso. Tomorrow we have some tasks to set you on.”
“I thank Your Grace for the opportunity to serve.”
With a laugh, Kaspar opened the door and said,
“Don’t be so quick to thank me, young Hawkins. You haven’t heard the tasks yet. You may not be so grateful when you see what plans I have for you.”
With that, he ushered Tal through the door and closed it behind him. Tal set off down the stairway, thinking that whatever might have been said, Leso Varen had reservations, expressed in his eyes, if not his words. He would have to tread carefully around the magician, Tal knew.
Still, he had endured the first trial and was still breathing, and as it was said, so far, so good.
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EIGHT
TASK
Tal slogged through the swamp.
A company of Olasko soldiers wearing knee-high boots and heavily padded jackets were trudging through calf-deep water. Kaspar had given Tal his first task the month before; by fast ship go to Inaska and dispose of a band of smugglers who are causing problems for the local merchants.
They were also pirates, Tal discovered after two days in Olasko’s southernmost city. He had spent hours in seedy taverns and seedier brothels, but after two weeks of spreading gold around he had got the information he needed.
He had presented himself to the garrison commander at Inaska, shown his warrants from the Duke, and handpicked the twenty men who now were working their way toward the smugglers’ camp. Leading the locals was a sergeant who seemed to be the toughest of them, a snake-
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eater named Vadeski. He had a forehead like an anvil and a jaw that jutted like the ram on a Quegan war galley, and his shoulders were as wide as the Duke’s, though he was a full head shorter. Tal had seen his type in many a tavern: a brawler, a bully, and, probably, a murderer, but he was exactly the type of man Tal needed for a thankless job like this.
The other men had all been either trappers or hunters at one time, for Tal knew he would need men familiar with the local area. For the first time in his life, Tal found himself feeling lost. He had hunted in the mountains and lowland forests and across grasslands, but never in the swamps.
They had taken a boat from Inaska to a village called Imrisk, where they had secured provisions and comman-deered a pair of large shallow-draught boats. Those had been paddled to the windward side of the island, opposite where the pirates had their camp.
Two small coast-sailers were reputedly anchored on the lee side, along with a dozen or more of the shallow-draught boats identical to the ones Tal’s men used. Tal expected no more than thirty smugglers to be in camp. A quick attack, take some prisoners for questioning, fire the boats and base—such were his plans.
He motioned for Vadeski to hold the men in place, telling him, “I’m going to scout ahead.”
“Yes, Captain,” answered the sergeant.
Tal moved through alien-looking trees with their un-derwater roots, having no idea what they were called. He kept his eyes busy, looking for danger, human or otherwise. The swamp held many predators—alligators, lizards, and especially a ferocious big cat—most of which would give the soldiers a wide berth, but there was also a particularly deadly water snake that had no fear of men.
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water, moving as silently as possible to a rise before him.
He smelled the faint tang of smoke. Glancing over the rise, he saw a long depression running for nearly a quarter of a mile to another ridge. From the other side he saw the smoke from campfires, a faint haze against the sky, being blown away by the wind.
He returned and motioned for his men to follow, and led them down the shallow gully. At the far end, they halted, and Tal signaled for them to wait. He peered over the rocks and saw the pirates’ camp. Then he sat down and swore silently. He beckoned for the sergeant to join him, and when the old veteran was at his side, they both took a look.
Tal counted close to ninety or a hundred men, three large sailing boats riding at anchor off the beach, and more than a dozen of the shallow smugglers’ boats.
“See those?” said Vadeski, whispering in his ear, pointing to the boats. “They come rippin’ out of the islands and swarm ya. If’n they can, they’ll offload all the goods, then fire the traders’ boat to the waterline. Those three big’uns are to haul plunder.”
“How often do they move to new camps?”
“All the time,” said Vadeski.
Tal sat down quickly. Then he led the men back to the other end of the gully. When they were safely away from the camp, Tal said, “Who is that lying bastard who told us there would be about thirty or so smugglers here, Sergeant?”
“Jacos of Saldoma; he’s a trader o’ sorts, Captain,” answered the sergeant.
“Remind me to have him flogged when we get back, assuming we get back. There are close to a hundred men in that camp.” He turned and did a quick inventory. He had twenty men, and only four crossbows.
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“Five to one ain’t all that bad, is it?” said the sergeant with a grin.
“Only if we have an advantage,” said Tal. “Let’s head back to the water’s edge in case one of those lads decides to come over that rise to take a piss, and we can ponder this.”
Tal knew that to return for more men would be a waste of time. The smugglers moved their camp on a regular basis, so he assumed they’d scout around every once in a while. There was no way any experienced scout would miss the signs of twenty-one men down in that gully and on this beach. He glanced down as they reached the water’s edge.
“What’s this?” Tal asked, kneeling. The shore was covered in a crushed white substance that didn’t look like sand or rock.
One of the others said, “Looks like broken shells, Captain.”
“Shells?”
“Swamp oysters,” said another. “They’re common enough around here. Not much for eating unless you’re starvin’, but some do.” He pointed. “Look over there.”
Tal looked where the man indicated and saw a large mound of shells. Something started nagging at him. He remembered something about oyster shells but couldn’t recall what.
They walked over to the pile, and he said, “Someone put these here.”
“Probably lookin’ for pearls,” said the first man who spoke. He picked one up. “Got a pearl ain’t worth much, not like those that come from the sea, but some’ll buy
’em. All kind of blokes range though these swamps, set up camp, abide a while, then move on.”
Tal was motionless as he held the shell. Then he asked, “What happens when you burn these?”
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“You get a white ash,” said another man. “Did it all the time in my village. I grew up in these islands, Captain.”
“White ash?” asked Tal, thinking. “What do you use the ash for?”
“Well, me mum made soap by mixing it with tallow.
Nasty stuff’ll take the skin right off you if you leave it on too long, but it’ll get your face and hands clean enough.
Good for clothes, too, if you get it all out. Otherwise, it’ll eat a hole in a shirt.”
Tal grinned. “Now I remember. Something I read a while ago!” He motioned to the sergeant. “Set two pickets at the near end of the ravine. If they see anything, tell them to come running.” Vadeski detailed two men to do as ordered. Tal then said, “Start a fire, there.” He pointed to a spot just above the water. “Start gathering shells,” he instructed the other men. “As many as you can
find. Then empty out your kits.”
The men did as ordered, dumping the contents of their backpacks on the ground. They gathered shells, then once the fire was going, Tal started dumping shells into the flames.
They let the fire burn throughout the afternoon, and Tal watched as a huge pile of ash formed. As the sun lowered in the west, Tal said, “We attack at sundown. The evening breeze should be at our backs, right, Sergeant?”
Vadeski said, “Right, Captain. Wind’s pretty constant across these islands. Still as the grave at sunrise, nice little zephyr every sundown.”
Tal said, “We’ve got dirty work ahead, Sergeant.”
With a grin that was positively evil, Vadeski said,
“That’s the kind I like, Captain!”
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Twenty-one men crouched below the top of the rise. Tal peered over and saw that the pirates were gathered around a large cookfire or lounging nearby. He signaled to his men, and they spread out along the low ridge, two crossbowmen in the center, one each at either end of the line.
He had given clear instructions to his men; now he had to wait for the wind to freshen. As the sun touched the horizon, he felt the breeze pick up. He nodded and spoke in a quiet tone. “Now.”
His men stood. They waited until one of the smugglers saw them, and shouted. The smugglers all grabbed up weapons and made ready for an attack. Tal had ordered his men to hold their ground.
The two groups stood motionless, facing each other, until Vadeski shouted, “Well, what are you waiting for, you ugly buggers?”
The pirates shouted and charged. The distance from the beach to the rise where Tal waited was less than a hundred yards, and most of it was slightly uphill. Tal waited until the first smuggler was only twenty yards away, then shouted, “Now!”
The men picked up their backpacks and started throwing handfuls of the white ash into the air. It was picked up by the wind and blew into the eyes of the attackers. Suddenly men were dropping their weapons and screaming in pain.
The four crossbowmen fired, and four of the pirates went down. A few of them kept their eyes covered, and managed to get to the line, where they were quickly cut down by Tal’s men. Of the ninety or more charging pirates attacking, only a dozen reached Tal’s line, all dying quickly.
“Now!” shouted Tal, and the soldiers dropped their packs and charged. There wasn’t much fight left in the pi-
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rates, as many of them were blind. Tal shouted, “Get me some prisoners!”
Tal leapt among the smugglers, many of them flailing about wildly with their swords, doing more damage to their companions than to any of Tal’s men.
In less than ten minutes, the slaughter ended. Tal had only two wounded men, both with superficial cuts, and four prisoners who were sitting down by the boats trying to wash out their eyes with wet rags.
Sergeant Vadeski approached. “Captain, there’s somethin’ you should see.”
Tal followed him to where his men were digging graves for the dead. “What is it?”
“Look at the feet,” said the Sergeant.
Tal did so and noticed that a full dozen of the corpses were wearing boots. “Those aren’t sailors.”
“No, sir,” said the sergeant. He bent over the closest man with boots on and pulled open his shirt. “Look at this, sir.”
Under the dead man’s shirt was a pendant. “Bet you’ll find the same as this on the others, sir.”
“What is it?”
Vadeski pulled it off the man and handed it to Tal. He looked closely and saw that the medallion was embossed with the head of a roaring lion. “It’s worn by the Black Lions, sir.”
Tal shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“The Black Lions are a special group, sir. Soldiers workin’ for the Prince of Salmater. These ain’t pirates, sir, but soldiers come across the border to do mischief.”
Tal looked at the four prisoners and saw that one of them was wearing boots. He went to stand over the man and nudged him with his foot. The man looked up and blinked. “I think I’m blind.”
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“Most likely,” said Tal. “Or at least for a while.”
“What is this?” asked the man, pointing to his swollen eyes.
“Lye,” answered Tal. “Ash containing lye. Now I’ll ask the questions. Who was your officer?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said the prisoner.
Tal nodded at Vadeski, who kicked the man as hard as he could in the side. The prisoner couldn’t see the kick coming and he doubled over, crying out in pain. He lay on the sand, unable to catch his breath for almost a full minute, finally inhaling with a great rasping noise.
“You’re not bloody pirates,” said Tal. “You’re soldiers of Salmater. You’re across the border in Olasko territory.
If I take you back to Opardum, it’ll mean war.”
“I’m a smuggler,” the man said weakly.
Tal looked around. “Right.” He motioned to Vadeski.
“We’ll stay the night, and tomorrow we’ll burn all the boats but one.” He pointed to the three large boats anchored off the shore. “Send four lads to see if there are any more of these cutthroats hiding aboard, and if not, what cargo they hold. If you can, move all the cargo to one of the boats, and we’ll sail it back to Inaska. Detail four men to fetch our boats on the other side of the island.
I want to get this news back to the Duke as quickly as I can.”
“What about him?” said the sergeant.
Tal looked at the man huddling in the sand, blind and hunched up in such a way Tal that suspected Vadeski had broken some of his ribs. Without pity, Tal said, “Make him talk.”
“Gladly, sir,” said the sergeant.
The old soldier started shouting orders while Tal went over to the cookfire. A large iron pot bubbled near the flames. He lifted a wooden spoon out of it and tasted the _______________
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contents of the pot; it was a simple but acceptable fish stew. He beckoned over one of the soldiers, and said,
“Pass the word; hot supper tonight. After burial, I want pickets posted, then the men can start eating.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Tal knelt and took a quick inventory. There was enough hard bread and dried fruit to last his men four or five days. More than enough to compensate for the provisions they had dumped to accommodate the ash in their packs. Tal sighed. This was the first of many bloody tasks Kaspar would set for him, he was certain.
If he was to realize his ambition, to destroy the Duke of Olasko utterly, he must be a good and faithful servant until such time as the Duke revealed his true nature and betrayed Tal. Then he would be free of his oath and could bring Kaspar down.
But that day was a long way off, for there was still much to know. And Tal was patient in many ways.
He got a wooden bowl from a nearby pile and used a ladle to pour out some hot stew. Then he tore off a chunk of bread and sat down, noticing some bottles of wine nearby. He decided to leave those for the men. As he put the bread into the stew and took a bite, he could hear the prisoner starting to scream.
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Tal stood quietly as Kaspar read the report. “You did well, Tal,” Kaspar said as he put down the parchment. “Your report is detailed. The goods recovered will pay for the cost of the trouble we went to, but what do we do about the Prince of Salmater?”
“Send him a message, sir?”
“Yes, my thoughts exactly.” He picked up one medal-
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lion from the pile Tal had deposited on the table before him. “I think returning these to him might get the point across.”
“Will it, Your Grac
e?”
Kaspar leaned back and regarded Tal. “You have something on your mind, Squire?”
“The smuggling was no more than a nuisance, Your Grace. It harmed some merchants and perhaps diverted some duty money from your treasury, but it was only a small-scale problem. Why detail crack troops to such an undertaking?”
“You have something for me?”
“Only a thought, Your Grace. The soldier we captured knew nothing, but his officer had orders not shared with the men. We got that from the soldier before he died. The other three prisoners were common riffraff, nothing more than thugs and dock rats working for the promise of easy booty.
“But we did find this.” He motioned to a servant, who deposited a bundle before the Duke. Inside was a case, which Kaspar opened, revealing fine writing instruments.
The parchments that were folded below the box revealed pages covered in cryptic notes, and other pages with line drawings.
Finally the Duke asked, “A mapping expedition?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“To what end?”
“A straight route from Micel’s Station to Olasko Gateway. I studied the maps of the area in your collection before leaving. Having just returned from the region, I know they are incomplete and inaccurate. What looks to be a large waterway turns out to be shallow and filled with debris, and there are islands marked where none exist, sandbars that build up and shift, all manner of hazards to _______________
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any deep-draught vessels.” He pointed to one of the line maps. “If I have understood their codes and these drawings, they were returning from a successful expedition—and not the first.” His finger pointed to another page.
“They were almost finished. I know from more reliable sources that there is only one viable route from the point where they stopped to the river itself. They would have found it on their next trip, I am certain.”
He rubbed his chin absently for a moment, then added, “If war were to come to the north, having a direct route that would allow seizing the Gateway without having to confront your forces at Inaska and here in Opardum would give an enemy a strategic advantage: he would hold a fortress city on your western flank and cut off any supplies from the heartlands of Olasko. Another attack on Inaska from inside the island group coupled with a sea assault could take the city in less than a week, in my estimation.”
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