“Inlanders? You’re probably right.” Haft repeated what Spinner said in Zobran but got no response.
“What’s this?” Spinner yanked on the belt of the one-armed bandit. His hand came away with a Skragland army badge. “Are you a Skraglander?” he asked in that language. “Or did you steal this from someone you murdered?”
The bandit’s only reply was another scowl, but a flicker in his eyes made it clear he understood the question.
Neither Marine spoke more than a few words of Skraglandish. Haft looked around for someone who spoke it. The nearest person was Doli, who hovered nearby.
“Doli,” Haft called. “Can you help us, please?”
“What?” Doli asked as she joined them.
“We need a translator,” Spinner said. He wanted to glower at Haft, but couldn’t with Doli right there looking lovingly into his face. He wished his friend had called someone else to translate for them.
Doli gave the prisoners a sweet smile. “Tell me what you want to know. I’ll get Zweepee and Alyline. We’ll question them the way we did that Jokapcul soldier. They’ll tell us everything we want to know.”
Haft leaned away from her; he didn’t want to subject another prisoner to that kind of questioning. Not until they’d tried gentler methods.
Spinner swallowed; he didn’t either. “Ah, I don’t think that will be necessary, Doli. These two look like reasonable men, I’m sure they’re willing to talk without that kind of, ah, ‘feminine persuasion.’ ”
Doli gave him an exaggerated look of disappointment. “But, Spinner, you know how much information we can get from a man.” She smiled sweetly.
“We want them alive and whole afterward,” Haft snarled.
They spoke in Frangerian, the language they had most in common, so they were surprised when the head-swaddled bandit spoke.
“What you want know?” His bad Frangerian was intelligible even through his fear. The one-armed bandit swore at him in Skraglandish, and he swore back. The other quieted, but looked furious.
Haft was convinced that if he could see the bandit’s face he’d see a terrified expression. Spinner wondered how the fellow knew what happened to prisoners when they were turned over to the women. Had he seen a soldier after an enemy’s women had their way with him? Did the bandits give prisoners to their women after a battle? None of that mattered, they wanted information from him: Why had the bandits attacked? How many of them were there? Where was their base? What did they know about Jokapcul positions and movements on the Princedon Peninsula? Doli’s Skraglandish helped with the questions and answers the two Marines’ Skraglandish couldn’t manage. They suspected that in her translations she embellished what they said so they carried greater threat.
As it turned out, their surmise had been right, the bandits didn’t allow anyone to get away with hurting them; they’d come to kill all the people who had broken up their ambush. Since the company beat off the first attack, they would gather more bandits and come back again as soon as they gathered a large enough force. The prisoners weren’t sure, but they thought that altogether there were three or four hundred bandits in that part of the Princedons. Most of them could be assembled for a joint action. They didn’t have just one base, there were six or eight bands, each with its own base. They couldn’t tell where the other bases were, just their own. They could find their way to a couple of others, but only from their own base, not from here. The directions they gave to their base sounded incomplete and possibly led along well-guarded roads and trails, but the Marines didn’t press the issue. If the bandits were gathering force to attack again, they needed to prepare defenses, not send out a retaliatory force. As for the Jokapcul, all the bandits could say for sure, or perhaps all they would say, was they recently took a small part of the southern coast of the peninsula. Perhaps the invaders had taken more than that—rumors of their strength and location abounded, with each rumor more fantastic than the previous one.
When the questioning was done—they didn’t think the bandits had held back much except for the location of their base—they had soldiers take them into the hospital pavilion for treatment. By then the healers were through with the most essential care of their own casualties and were able to tend to the wounded bandits. “Gently,” Spinner admonished when the soldiers started by picking up the prisoners roughly. They gathered Fletcher and Xundoe to begin planning a defense against the anticipated attack. The mayor showed up with the Commander of the Eikby Guard, who had just arrived with more guardsmen. Doli hovered nearby, as usual. Alyline joined the group without invitation.
“Where’s Silent?” Fletcher wanted to know.
No one knew where he and Wolf were. Nor did anyone notice the cloud of bees that formed, headed south, and coalesced into a birdlike formation and speeded up as it vanished over the tops of the forest trees.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
Captain Stonearm, commander of the Eikby Guard, and a squad of guardsmen had been investigating a reported disturbance in the forest on the far side of the town when the company arrived. Even though he and his troops came back as soon as a runner brought word of the strangers, they hadn’t gotten back to the east edge of the cleared area until the fight was ending. The plume of tail feathers from a bird of paradise arching high on the crest of his helmet and a silver sash embroidered with gold thread crossing his chest served as the commander’s insignia of rank. A collection of badges and ribbons, none from any of the city states of the Princedons, on the chest of his red and white striped tunic testified to his experience and valor under arms. But under his finery, his grizzled beard, scarred scowl, rock hard forearms, roughened hands, and spear-for-a-spine posture said unmistakably what he had been before taking command of the Eikby Guard—a sergeant.
Stonearm ran his scowl up one side of Spinner and Haft and down the other, a looking over that never failed to make an ordinary soldier pale and go weak in the knees.
The two just looked back at him.
“Frangerian sea soldiers, eh?” Stonearm said in passable Frangerian. “You used to be pretty good.”
“Most people think we’re better than ever, Captain,” Spinner said levelly.
Leaning suddenly toward the Eikby Guard commander, Haft said with a growl, “We prefer to be called ‘Marines.’ ”
Stonearm looked pointedly at the single chevron-over-paired-crossbows on their sleeves. He’d seen that insignia before, and knew it indicated some sort of junior enlisted man a couple of ranks below sergeant. “You are in command of that ragtag band?” he asked sarcastically.
A sergeant of another military, even if he was a captain, could only be allowed to get away with so much. Spinner planted his fists on his hips and stuck his face inches from Stonearm’s.
“That ‘ragtag band’ beat off a larger force of bandits that had your guardsmen so frightened they stood back and watched rather than join in the fight.”
“Your band only won because you and that giant crashed through the bandits. And they didn’t run until my horsemen got there.”
“The way I saw it,” Haft snarled, “they were already running when your horsemen finally showed up.”
They glared at each other for a tense moment, then Captain Stonearm burst into laughter and clapped a powerful hand on each of their shoulders. “Now that you’re called Marines, you Frangerians are even more arrogant than before! Calm down, I was just testing you. Anybody can put on a uniform. If you didn’t react like you did, I would have suspected you weren’t what you say you are.” He grinned and held out a hand to shake. “I was a sergeant in the Easterlies Household Guard myself, before I decided to retire someplace where it was warm all the time.
“Now, tell us about your meeting with the bandits,” Stonearm changed the subject.
They told the story without embellishment and briefly answered all questions the captain and the mayor asked.
When they were through, Stonearm said, “Those are the Rockhold Band, our local bandits, all right. B
ut what happened to that Blood Swords captain after he left you?”
“We don’t know. I wanted to ask you if he was here,” Spinner replied.
“No, I haven’t seen or heard of him. Lord Mayor, have you?”
The mayor shook his head, he’d neither seen nor heard of the Skragland officer before this.
“Now, do you have a copy of that famous Lord Gunny Says with you, and does it say anything about what to do in a situation like this?” Stonearm changed the subject again.
Captain Stonearm and the mayor had no doubts, they were certain the bandits would come back—and in larger numbers. When they came back, both said, the bandits would not only attack the outlander party that had fought and beaten them twice already, they would attack the town itself. Beyond that they were in complete disagreement. Stonearm wanted to prepare to defend the town; the mayor insisted that if the outlanders left right away, the bandits would leave the town alone when they came.
“That is a bad idea,” Stonearm growled. “The way they’ll see it, we harbored these people. If they aren’t here for the bandits to fight, they’ll attack us instead. More, I think it’s about time we put paid to them.”
“Captain!” the mayor snapped. “I am Lord Mayor here. I have lived in this area all my life. I have dealt with these bandits the entire time I have been Lord Mayor. You are a newcomer. I know how the bandits think and what they will do. You know nothing. You,” he turned to Spinner and Haft, “must leave immediately.”
“Marines never run from a fight,” Haft said harshly.
“With all due respect to your position and experience, Lord Mayor,” Spinner said more calmly, “I suspect Captain Stonearm is right. We’ve done the bandits severe hurt—not just once, but twice. They’ll want vengeance. And I think Captain Stonearm is right when he says if we aren’t here when they show up they’ll take their revenge on you. Besides,” he glanced toward the pavilion where the wounded were being treated, “we have wounded who can’t be safely moved yet.”
“I tell you the bandits won’t attack us if you aren’t here!” the mayor shouted, wide-eyed. “They wouldn’t harm themselves so. I am Lord Mayor, I give the orders. Captain Stonearm, you will escort these people out of town and send them on their way.” A wicked grin slashed across his face. “Send them to the south.”
Haft started to draw his axe, but Spinner stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“Are you ready to fight us before you’re attacked by the bandits?” Spinner asked coldly.
Stonearm turned his back on the mayor and looked over the landscape. “We better start preparing defenses,” he said.
“Captain, you are dismissed!” the mayor shrilled. He spun toward a nearby squad of swordsmen. “Arrest him!” The swordsmen looked uncertainly at one another and their commander.
Stonearm studied the mayor for a long moment, then said, “Lord Mayor, when I contracted to command the Eikby Guard, it was not with the expectation that I would run away the first time danger threatened. Nor did I expect to be in league with bandits.” He turned to the squad of swordsmen, who still had not made a move toward him and calmly addressed their sergeant. “Assemble the guard in company formation. We need to start getting ready.”
The sergeant looked from Stonearm to the mayor and back, thought matters over, and concluded that he liked his commander and his commander’s ideas better than he did the mayor and his. He looked at his men; they looked like they were ready to do anything he told them to. Eikby had been too poor for too long because of the bandits.
“Immediately, Captain,” the sergeant said, and sent all but two of his men running to the other squads to assemble them. He looked pointedly at the mayor, ready to arrest him if ordered to do so.
The mayor paled. “This is insubordination,” he croaked. “Worse, it is mutiny. I will see you hanged for it. All of you!” He twisted about and stalked rigidly to his waiting carriage.
“What is that all about?” Spinner asked when the mayor was gone.
“Later. We have to start on the defenses.”
According to The Manual for Sea Soldiers, the only totally untenable defensive position was one the defenders refused to defend. Eikby’s defenders seemed willing—at least their commander and some of the guardsmen were—but it certainly seemed that the mayor didn’t want the town to be defended. What the townspeople thought was anybody’s guess at first.
The land created problems for defenders. To begin with, it was nearly perfectly flat—the only high ground was garden compost piles, and all the low ground was underwater in ponds, streams, and a few irrigation ditches. There wasn’t a single guardhouse unless they counted the barracks on the town square, neither was there a watch tower other than the bell tower on the town hall. The outermost houses were too widely scattered to join together as defensive works, and too flimsy to use even if they’d been closer together. There weren’t any fences.
“We need fences that will break up charges,” Spinner said.
“And channel the attackers into killing zones,” Haft added.
Captain Stonearm pulled a map of Eikby from a pouch on his belt and, kneeling, spread it on the ground. “Here, here, and here are good places for fences,” he said as he drew lines with a blunt finger. “Not only will fences there be good at channeling attackers, they won’t be disruptive to farming because they follow the borders of different fields.” While he talked he indicated more places to build fences. “I need a stylus,” he muttered. Then to the leader of the horse squad, “Fetch Plotniko and Stupnikow to me.”
The horse sergeant saluted and said, “Immediately, Captain.” He mounted up and cantered toward the town.
“Here are a stylus and ink, Captain.” Doli moved into the circle next to Spinner, close enough that their arms brushed. She offered the writing implements to Stonearm. In a few strokes, he marked where he wanted fences.
While they waited for Plotniko and Stupnikow, Eikby’s master carpenter and master builder, Spinner and Haft introduced Fletcher to Stonearm. Then they set their men in the best defensive positions they could in the open ground. They also sent out several strong security patrols to the west and north. By the time they were done, Plotniko and Stupnikow arrived. There was still no sign of Silent and Wolf.
Plotniko and Stupnikow examined the map carefully.
“This is a lot of fencing, it will take ten days or more for the carpenters to construct these fences,” Plotniko said.
“I don’t think we have ten days,” Captain Stonearm said somberly. “We need more than just the carpenters and wood cutters building the fences. The farmers will have to help, and the husbandmen, too.”
“We can do it if we put everybody on the fences,” Stupnikow agreed. “But if we do, who will weed the fields and tend the flocks?”
Stonearm snorted. “If we don’t build the fences in time, we won’t need to worry about weeding the fields or tending the flocks.”
Stupnikow looked at the guard captain somberly. “You’re right. I will line up work crews now.”
“Will they come when you tell them why?” Stonearm asked.
“They will come,” Plotniko said. “This is rich land, the people are tired of being poor. Now, I’ll assemble the carpenters and woodsmen to get started on the stakes.” He followed Stupnikow back into the town.
“Now tell us about the mayor,” Spinner said when the masters were gone. “And why does the town seem so poor in such a rich land?”
Stonearm sighed. “He’s afraid, and with good reason. The mayor and my predecessor had an arrangement with the Rockhold Band. They paid the bandits a ‘tax’—a tribute—of food and supplies, including the entire production of two arrowsmiths. That’s why the town is poor, its wealth goes to the bandits. In return the bandits promised not to raid Eikby—so long as the town didn’t build any defenses.”
“Then why did he think we might be a bandit raiding party when we showed up?” Spinner asked.
Stonearm spat to the side. “The woo
dsmen who first saw you didn’t recognize you so they thought maybe you were a different band. We heard this morning that the Rockhold Band lost a fight yesterday. So he thought maybe a new bandit band was moving in to take over.”
“You’ve got soldiers,” Haft said. “Why didn’t you go after the bandits instead of paying tribute?”
Stonearm barked out a short laugh. “You saw my soldiers. Have you ever seen a sorrier excuse for an army? All they’re good for is parades.” He sighed again. “I have to take blame for that, but I’m only accepting part of the blame.” He looked around to make sure nobody could overhear. “I’ve only been here for a few months. I’m the only full-time soldier in the guard. Except for their ceremonial duties, the mayor has only let me have the guardsmen one day a month for training. ‘They have their occupations and families to look after,’ he says when I tell him I need time to train them. ‘We don’t need a real army,’ he says.” He spat again. “I’ve tried and tried to get him to see the fallacy in his thinking. All I’ve accomplished is, I was close to losing this nice, cushy job of mine even before now.” He shook his head. “Some retirement I picked for myself.” He looked around.
“Your soldiers, on the other hand, I recognize some of their uniforms. You’ve got Zobran Border Wardens and Lancers, Skraglander Guards and Blood Swords, and sea soldiers of at least two or three different nations. Those Bloody Axes are impressive. Your men know how to fight, I know that. Even most of your men who aren’t wearing uniforms carry themselves like veterans—like Fletcher here. Plus, you’ve got a war magician, and I heard you’ve got that steppe giant, though I haven’t seen him myself. Still, there aren’t enough of you to defeat the Rockhold Band.” He sadly shook his head.
“How many sol—guardsmen do you have?” Spinner asked.
“Four dozen. If I’d been allowed to train them properly, between my four dozen and your—how many do you have, four score?—we could beat these bandits. But mine are about worthless without help.”
Demontech: Rally Point: 2 (Demontech Book 2) Page 13
