“I can ride as well as anybody with little sleep. You need it more than I do, if anything.”
Mirth coughed. “We're not leaving in the morning. You must go on your own.”
“Wait, what?” I had been glancing at the chest again, but my eyes swiveled to meet his fully. He wasn't smiling anymore.
“It's about to be dangerous around here. I wouldn't want you—”
Mirth was cut off as the door banged open and a spray of rain let itself in. A large figure wearing a black hooded cloak stepped inside, their frame blocking out the weather somewhat. They lingered at the threshold, refusing to come in any further or to close the door.
“We have news we need to discuss, Mirth,” said a woman's voice from beneath the cowl. “Our scouts came across some of…oh.” She paused as her hood turned towards me. I couldn't get a good look at her in the darkness of the wagon interior, but I just made out a squared jaw underneath her hood. It worked back and forth, her teeth grinding.
“Who are you?” she said. She didn't sound happy to see me there.
“This is Micasa, the one we've been on the lookout for,” Mirth answered in my defense. The hooded woman nodded.
“I see. You should probably come along too, then.” She left the doorway, allowing the rain to come pouring in again.
Mirth clicked his tongue. He spared me a glance out of the corner of his eye. “You don't have to come if you don't want. I'll make them understand.”
“Who was that?” I asked.
“Someone from the family. I'm not sure why she's so angry all the time.”
“The family is here, too!?” My questions were piling up faster than I could get answers for them. “What are the gypsies and family both doing here!?”
Mirth sighed and rubbed his temple. “Was worth a try to keep you out of this, I suppose. Come on, I'll explain on the way.”
* * *
The cowled family member had been waiting outside for us, and proceeded to escort Mirth and me to where the family had set up camp. The stranger remained silent, a specter behind us, but Mirth explained that both sides were here under the behest of Uraj.
“He made the request a few weeks ago,” he said. “I didn't know what to make of it. He wanted us to help him overthrow Val'Hala.”
Uraj made no mention of anything like that when we saw him in Liturgy. I couldn't imagine he had been planning to call on them this whole time.
“I wouldn't think you would go to help Uraj, just because he asked,” I said.
“You would be right,” he said, “but it was hard to deny the request when it came directly from young Winter.”
I stopped. “Winter was heading to Damkarei. How did she talk to you?”
The family member prodded me in the back to get me moving. I scowled at her, but she was already wearing a scowl of her own in response. There was no point in fighting, and I didn't want to spend any longer in the downpour than I had to. My cloak was already soaked through, and the water quickly made its way through my clothing. Mirth waited while I trotted to catch up to him.
“Chestnut sent me word that she was taking young Winter and her husband to the capital. We wanted to accompany her along the way. That was when she asked, on the Forge's behalf.”
“But I don't get why you accepted,” I said.
Mirth suddenly looked angry. Mirth never looked angry. “I heard about that thing that attacked Liturgy,” he said, his words snapping like brittle steel. “Those people were not accepting of us, but they were more like the gypsies than they would have cared to think. More than that, they were a haven for young Winter. The Forge told me that thing worked for the Lord of Val'Hala.” He gave me a significant look. “The gypsies are a gentle people, but we do not forgive those who threaten our kind. If Hawke and the Forge choose to put an end to his madness, we will aid in any way possible.”
It frightened me a bit to see Mirth so livid, but having the support of the gypsies made me feel much better. Aside from having friendly faces around, nearly all of them had powers. We would need such an edge against the full might of the Val'Halan military.
A great pavilion tent waited ahead of us, standing firm against the wind and rain of the storm. It had been erected right next to the Astral Road, and I tried to look down the road, hoping in vain that I would catch sight of the Damkarein army marching to join us for the mess that was sure to come. Of course, the rain made it impossible to see more than a stone's throw.
“Hurry, they're already waiting for us,” barked our escort from the family. Even against the sound of the raindrops, I could hear her jaw grinding.
“What about you?” I asked her. “Why is the family here?”
She looked me over, and I got the feeling she was sizing up whether she could safely hit me or not. It might not have been the best idea to antagonize her, but I was as close to being a part of the family as possible without going the distance. The other members would back me up if things got too rough. I hoped.
“Our Mother told us to. We don't need any better reason,” she said.
So, the Goodmother was in on this, too. Considering the overbearing pressure she had demonstrated in the Madness, she would be a considerable boon in our efforts as well.
“Is she waiting for us in the tent, then?” I asked. The cloaked woman let out a hacking sound that could have been mistaken for a laugh.
“Mother doesn't handle business like this personally. That's what us children are for. We are her eyes, her ears, and when needed, her arms.” She held up an arm and flexed, the sleeve falling back. Her bicep was as big as my head, her fist only slightly less so, and faded gray scars ran along the entire length of the limb. Provoking her had definitely been a bad idea.
She tucked her arm away just as we reached the entrance to the tent. The sounds of heated discussion were already wafting out to be drowned in the night. Mirth stepped in, just to hold the flap open while our escort and I made our way through the entrance.
Small braziers had been tucked into the corner to light the tent, washing the inside with enough light to make the interior bright as day. Whatever the tent was made of, it was thick enough to keep that brightness from leaking out and the rain from leaking in. A pair of tables were the only concession to furnishment, and a large piece of parchment lay sprawled across the surfaces of both.
Around the table was a group of family members decked in black, an array of brightly garbed gypsies, and a few people in worn and dirty clothes that look scavenged. A few of those shoddily dressed people stood a distance off, brandishing weapons and flanking a pair of soldiers wearing the armor of Val'Hala. The soldiers had dark purple bruises covering most of their exposed skin, and were only semi-conscious of what was going on.
The discussion petered out as we made our entrance. One of the speakers looked at us, their tattered cloak unable to hide the bandages covering their face. I gasped when I saw their dreadlocks.
“Micasa!” said Blake. “Thank the Almighty, you're alright!”
Abandoning whatever they were talking about, ze rushed forward and wrapped their arms around me. I returned the embrace, and then some, my relief only matched by my confusion.
“Blake, what in the world are you doing here?” I asked. “I thought it was just the family and gypsies here.”
Ze leaned in close and muttered in my ear. “The family told us they were coming this way and wanted a little company, make sure they got here safe. When we heard it was to help Hawke, we decided to stick it out. Damn it, but I nearly lost it when I heard you might have gotten captured!”
I took a quick look at the Mad Riders in attendance. They kept their distance from the other groups, lingering closer to the family than the gypsies. The only one who stood at the table was Jo, who offered me a relieved smile and nod in greeting. I returned the gesture before turning back to Blake.
“I'm fine,” I assured them. Truth be told, ze was squeezing a little harder than my bruises liked, but I didn't care. “What about you, t
hough? You were at death's door when I saw you before.” I tapped the bandages on their face. “Still looks like you're thinking of knocking.”
Blake let go of me and shot me a cocked eyebrow. Impressive, considering their brow was hidden under a layer of linen.
“Nothing keeps me down long. Especially not when I have you to look after.” Blake reached behind their back and produced a wicked double-headed axe. Blake's favorite weapon, what ze called the Twins. “And right now, there are a lot of jerks who have to answer to me for what they did to you.”
Someone cleared their throat, pulling me out of my reunion with Blake. A bit embarrassed, I turned to address the rest of those meeting.
“Micasa, was it?” said a family member standing near the middle of the group, his hood hiding their features. “The Scholar had said you might be a captive, but I honestly wasn't expecting to find you. It's good to see you unharmed.”
He removed his hood, revealing a man I hadn't met before. He looked in his middling years, maybe mid-thirties, with sharp cheekbones and a pointed chin. His brown hair was cropped close on the sides and back, but grew long on the top and arched towards his brow, giving him the appearance of a gaunt quail. The tattooed line of the family stood bright against his pale skin, and his eyes were heavy with dark bags. They regarded me with suspicion.
“A pleasure to meet you, Mister…” I said, guarding my tone as best as I could.
“My apologies. I am Liore, of the family.” He swept his left hand to indicate the two other family members standing beside him. “These are my brothers-in-blood, Genzo and Vance.”
“I have the pleasure of their acquaintance. I've worked with both of them,” I told him. It was a stretch to say I'd worked with Vance, but it was close enough.
I enjoyed watching Liore's shocked reaction. “I'm sorry, you say you've worked with the family before?”
“Yeah. At least forty-six times…or maybe forty-seven,” said Genzo. His eyes hadn't lifted from the parchment since we walked in, and even as he spoke he was alternating between scribbling notes on the map and scratching his hair furiously.
“I can attest to her claim as well,” said Vance. His usual passivity from when we met had returned, and if he carried any of the strange enmity he had shown in the Goodmother's hideaway with him, he hid it well.
“My apologies, then, for my ignorance,” said Liore. He gave me a small bow, punctuated with an angry look at his comrades that clearly screamed why didn't you say anything before? Neither of them saw it.
“Young Micasa has been through quite an ordeal tonight,” interrupted Mirth. “What's this urgent news you dragged us here for?”
“Dragged you here? Rosie, you didn't mistreat them, did you?” Liore actually looked afraid. His eyes kept darting towards Mirth, never lingering too long.
Our escort puffed up indignantly. “I've been nothing if not a charming lady to the both.” She looked at me. “Right? Tell them.”
She, too, kept stealing glances at Mirth. Then it hit me: they were afraid of the gypsy curse. An old wives' tale, for the most part, but so much of their culture was already shrouded in mystery. I wasn't about to explain to them that they were perfectly safe around the wizened old gypsy leader.
“Yeah, charming,” I added. Liore breathed a sigh of relief, and Rosie seemed to relax a bit. I caught her eye, and she gave me a single nod. She knew she owed me.
“I'm curious what this news is too, Mr. Liore,” I said, trying to steer the conversation back on track. “Does it have something to do with the Val'Halan soldiers you have there?”
The Mad Riders that had been lurking in the back stepped forward, dragging their prisoners along with them. Neither of the soldiers had recovered from whatever they had been put through and were capable of little more than trying to lift their head and stare glassy-eyed at their surroundings.
“Ah, those losers,” Blake said. “We found them scouting around earlier. Managed to get the jump on them and hauled 'em in. We were arguing what to do with them.”
“Whatever we do with them, we need information first,” said Vance. “I have some excellent brothers and sisters who could make a stone tell its life story. Give us a few hours with them, and we'll know how many soldiers Othenidus has, how many horse, what weapons they have, and any other sordid details you wish.” I didn't like way his tiny smile curled upwards while he spoke. He enjoyed the thought of questioning them a bit too much.
“You would resort to torture for information that will do us little good,” said one of the gypsies in attendance. Behind him, a gypsy I recognized as Triumph, from Mirth's troupe, nodded in agreement. Beside Triumph stood Edge, his face passive, but his hands fidgeted constantly towards the belt full of knives he wore at his waist. They made up all of the gypsies in the tent, not counting Mirth, who had just arrived. They were outnumbered by the family and Mad Riders three-to-one; it was obvious why they seemed so tense.
“All information in wartime is crucial, my friend,” said Vance.
“We already know they have more of everything than we do. Ask all you want, but that's all they'll tell you, too,” barked Edge. Vance spread his hands out as a placating gesture and shrugged.
“They're right. Our numbers are woefully inadequate for this task,” said Genzo. He still refused to meet anyone's eye, but he looked equally uncomfortable staring at the calculations he was busy scratching out. “We have five hundred twenty-seven possible fighters between the gypsies, family, and Mad Riders. Five hundred twenty-eight, counting Micasa.” His eyes might have flickered to me for the space of a blink. “Even assuming our forces outmatch theirs by threefold, even if Val'Hala only has active combatants equal to the number given from their census two years ago, we're hopelessly outnumbered.”
Just over 500 fighters. In any other situation, I would have considered it a massive army. Against the strongest military coalition in all of Astra, I had to agree with Genzo - it certainly sounded hopeless.
“That may not be the worst of it,” I said.
Everyone turned to regard me. I knew that morale was probably waning already, and what I had to tell them wouldn't help things in the least, but there was no way I could allow them to lay their lives on the line without knowing what might be in store.
I told them everything I saw in the dungeon and everything that Othenidus said to me. Thankfully, nobody interrupted my tale, but I could see the fear writ across their faces. When I mentioned the number of grinel I saw, Genzo's pencil snapped in half, the tip sent spinning across the floor.
When I was done, the room stayed quiet for a long time. The rain continued to pound into the tent overhead. It sounded like the footfalls of thousands of soldiers, all of them bearing down directly on us.
“Are you certain of this, Micasa? Without a doubt?” said Triumph finally. When I nodded, he pressed his hand to his face and started pacing. He looked ready to scream at the drop of a pin.
“Where would Othenidus even find such an outlandish number of demons?” he muttered.
“I'm not certain, but I think it might have been from slaving ships,” I said.
The gypsies and several of the Riders looked at me like they thought I was making it up. That stopped quickly when Genzo pounded his fist on the table.
“Those damn shipping manifests!” he blurted out. “It was all there! We didn't dig deep enough!”
Vance's eyes grew wide, his mouth pressing into a tight line. It would seem the Goodmother had shown at least those two the same documents she had shown me. Their reactions added enough weight to my claim to convince everyone else, by the looks of it.
“Those demons that ambushed us,” Jo cut in. She held a hand to her mouth in disbelief. “Those fake soldiers Hawke an' Micasa stopped said they were lookin' fer demons. They attacked when we said we'd run them off. You think…?” She looked up, afraid.
“…they were tryin' to pick up some lost cargo,” Blake finished the thought for her.
“The Old Kings have s
ent us on a fool's errand,” said Liore in a hushed voice. “We have no chance for victory against the strength of Val'Hala and a mob of crazed demons. We need to pick up and leave immediately.”
It wasn't a terrible suggestion. This wasn't a fight we could win. We could still go to Grankul with just five nullstones. It didn't sound like Othenidus had any desire to return there, so running across him wouldn't be an issue. We could put the entire ocean between him and us.
If only it were that simple.
“We can't leave,” I said.
Everyone looked at me again, this time in disbelief. Even Genzo pulled himself away from his numbers to gawk at me openly.
“You must be mad,” said Liore, “especially if what you said is true. What good would it do to throw our lives away here?”
“I'm afraid I agree with the family,” said Mirth. “At the least, we should retreat and rally with the Old Kings. They actually have an army to fight with. The power of Hawke and the Forge alone would hugely tip the scales. There's no need to push this fight prematurely.”
“That would be true, if Othenidus was just going to use the grinel to strengthen his army. I don't think that's what he's planning with them, though.” The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. Everything Hawke had told me about him, and everything he showed me when we talked, pointed to one likely scenario. One we had to avoid at all costs.
“What else could he do with them?” asked Blake.
The thought horrified me. No rational person would ever consider it, but Othenidus did not come across as a rational person. “He's going to let them loose in Astra.”
The room exchanged nervous glances. They seemed at a loss for words at that possibility.
“What good would it do for him to capture all those demons just to release them?” said Vance.
“You didn't see what I saw. They were starved half to death, nearly blinded by rage at their captivity.” The memories of that dungeon were still too fresh, and I couldn't fight back the shudder that coursed through me. “They would never work under his command - he's the one who put them there in the first place. At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if the sight of any human drove them mad.”
Savants of Humanity (The Scholar's Legacy Book 2) Page 29
