The nearest picket outpost had four men sitting and kneeling, bunched closely together. Alec felt a twinge of pity for them, trying to pass another uneventful night out here on the hostile front. Then he threw two knives and pulled out two more that also flew through the air and landed with thuds and gasps. Alec moved north one hundred yards, and killed a second outpost, recovered his knives, then returned to the pile of uniforms, picked them up and ran back to the Dominion side of the lines.
“Men in yellow, women in red,” Alec told each one quietly as he spread the clothes out on the ground. “We have to move quickly. I’m not sure how long it will be until they change shifts, so we want to be away from the scene before they have a clue something is happening.”
All the soldiers in the squad obediently complied, rustling their clothes as they prepared. “Why the difference in colors?” Lewis asked as they began slipping through the empty field that made up the no-man’s-land.
“The soldiers in this area are from the Canare clan, who wear yellow. All their soldiers are men. The red outfits are from the Scarle clan. My hope is that people will assume you two have been providing, um, entertainment, to some soldiers,” Alec explained. “Ouch!” he hissed a moment later. “I’m just trying to make us look plausible,” he said in a wounded voice.
“I’ll make you plausible someday when you’re not looking,” Lewis hissed.
“Stop here,” Alec instructed the group at a clump of trees.
“Where are we?” Givens asked.
“We’re about ten yards away from a dead Michian outpost. I want five of you to bury those bodies, or at least cover them so the yellow isn’t so visible tonight. Stay here when you’re finished. The rest of you follow me and we’ll do the same to the outpost to the north. We’ll be back in ten minutes; be ready,” he ordered, then tapped three men on the shoulders and took them with him.
Minutes later the squad was reunited and began moving towards the supply depot Alec had visited earlier, past it, and on to the farm lane that had become a military supply route. Together, they traveled for nearly an hour, until they were in the eastern neighborhoods of the city. There was little traffic on the route, and no encounters with others. They left the road to walk up an alley, and into an empty carriage house, where they threw down their packs and weapons and collapsed. “I’ll take first watch,” Alec volunteered, holding his warrior powers at a low level of readiness. Their adventure had begun with disarming simplicity, and he wondered how long their luck could hold up.
He sat by the doorway as the others stretched out and quickly fell asleep. Alec could see little in the dark alley of the nearly moonless night sky, and he measured their safety mostly by the sounds he heard, vermin boldly seeking food, and occasional predators seeking them out. There were many cats, he could tell, with occasional coyotes chasing the cats. How could there be coyotes in the city, he wondered. The city must have been heavily depopulated by the Michian occupiers if coyotes were able to take up residence.
Alec thought about the life he had lived before in the city: his first stretch, when he had been an apprentice ingenaire, now seemed like an idyllic time. Later, when he had returned and served as the crown protector, he had enjoyed the city less, while he looked upon his duties as a chore. He had never lived the life he wished that he had, living in the palace with Bethany, enjoying life with her and the responsibilities of governing.
The sounds in the alley diminished, and sounds out in the streets began to rise, as people rose to start their early morning chores and duties. Indistinguishable shapes in the alleyway began to assume profiles, and shadows formed as the day began to break. Alec heard people walking, and carts moving through the roads, then a company of horses, presumably a military unit, passed the entrance to the alley. It was time to go, Alec concluded.
Gently, he walked among the soldiers, tapping them and nudging them awake, then as he saw them all sitting up or rising, he walked out to the alleyway to look around. In the increasing light, the narrow canyon between brick walls looked just as squalid as it had sounded the night before. Carefully, he picked his way through the debris, and stepped out into the street where a light flow of traffic was moving. To his left he observed the buildings, many of them open and abandoned, with several others boarded shut, and every third or fourth store front still showing evidence of business.
“Are you lost, son?” a voice asked and a meaty hand landed on his shoulder with a solid grip. Startled, Alec engaged his warrior abilities and whirled, to face a large sergeant from the Indige clan, backed by a patrol of a half dozen more soldiers. “Isn’t your clan supposed to be on the front lines this week?” the sergeant asked. “We can help send you back in the right direction, if you need some guidance.”
“That’s not necessary just yet, is it captain?” a sultry female voice asked, and Stracha came out of the alley, her robe disheveled. “He paid for service until noon, and it seems a shame to rob a good soldier of his just rewards,” she said as she boldly came to stand beside Alec and put her arm through his.
The sergeant and his companions laughed knowingly, and he removed his hand from Alec, who disengaged his powers. “No, we want to be fair with our fighting men. You just make sure he gets his money’s worth, and come see me sometime. We’re stationed in the houses north of the old palace,” he said as he gave her bottom an opportunistic pat and led his patrol away.
Stracha placed her arms around Alec’s neck and hugged him familiarly as the purple-clad soldiers moved on. “Thank you,” Alec whispered in her ear as he returned the embrace. “That was fast thinking. Risky, but effective.”
“It was Danel’s idea,” Stracha responded. “He said a soldier wouldn’t deny another soldier a little adventure time.” They walked into the alley way, and dropped their arms from each other as they returned to a roomful of alert and armed Dominion forces. Stracha straightened out her robe with exaggerated dignity, drawing a quiet round of laughter and applause.
“Well, that was a reminder. We need to be careful out there,” Alec said. “But we’re not going to do any good if we just stay inside here and hide.
“I’d like to travel by the palace to see what is happening there, then we can work through the back streets to get to the cathedral, and after that we’ll try to pass by Ingenairii Hill. On the way back we can go down by the river front and check on activity at the docks to see if they are bringing more forces in or shipping them out, or something else. I don’t know if we’ll make it all the way around in one day; we may spend another night in the city before returning home.
“Does anyone have any questions?” Alec asked.
“How much did you pay for the girl?” a wit in the back of the room asked, to a generous round of laughter.
“Givens, you and Lewis take the rear. I’ll lead,” Alec commanded, and his squad left the empty store room to begin scouting behind enemy lines.
The yellow and red contingent walked through the streets. Their colors seemed out of place in a quarter of the city where purple and green and blue were the predominant colors, but Alec walked confidently as though he was on an assignment, and they advanced without interference.
None of the others in his group had ever seen Oyster Bay before, and Alec was saddened that they would see it for the first time in such a condition. Though the main boulevards were better populated than the side roads, the city remained a sad, bedraggled place, whose occupation had provided no maintenance or care. The traffic was heavily military, and the number of civilians visible declined as they reached the palace.
The palace gates were manned by guards wearing the golden-trimmed uniforms of the imperial guard Alec had seen around the emperor and his palace in Michian. There were a variety of colored uniforms in the plaza outside the gates, and Alec led his force at a slow pace so that they could inconspicuously blend in as he examined the scene.
“That’s the palace, where the king used to live?” Danel asked. “Who lives there now?”
“That was the palace of the king,” Alec confirmed. “I don’t know who lives there now, but those guards are wearing the imperial colors; it may mean there is a representative of the emperor here.” The security seemed tight, as those entering the gates were questioned and searched in an attentive manner, and Alec watched one woman get turned away, while another appeared to be taken into custody.
He led the group along the great boulevard, passing the formerly expensive businesses that had lined the road that led from the palace to the cathedral to Ingenairii Hill.
“Why is the traffic stopped up ahead?” Danel asked as Alec grew pre-occupied with memories of the former days.
Near the cathedral plaza a large mass stood in the road, slowly moving into the plaza as a similar trickle emerged from it heading towards them. As they drew nearer, Alec saw that the plaza had been largely cordoned off, and traffic was constricted in a narrow frontage. The new perimeter around the cathedral was a massive defensive one, with walls and guards extended out of sight on all sides of the cathedral area. The guards wore a uniform Alec failed to recognize, a garish red and black combination that hinted at fear and suffering.
“Let’s move down towards the river,” Alec urged the rest of the Dominion group, and they jostled across traffic towards a series of neighborhoods that had formerly been shops and warehouses and homes for residents involved in the shipping trade. That neighborhood was nearly as desolate as the one they had spent the night in, except for the bars and taverns, that were already open and doing a bustling mid-day business.
“Does anyone have any money?” Alec asked, as he considered entering one of the taverns for food and information.
“None that they’d accept here, but I can make a lot in a hurry,” one of the guards unknown to Alec said.
“How?” Alec asked.
“With you,” the soldier, an apparent schemer named Pryce, replied. “These are sailors in these places. They’ll gamble and spend their money away as fast as they get it. We’ll walk in and challenge anyone to arm wrestle with you, and place bets on the outcome,” he explained. “You look kind of spindly, begging your pardon, sir, so we’ll have lots of takers, especially after you beat the first one or two. I’ve been in the army for ten years, and I know these sailors just aren’t all that bright; they won’t be able to resist the challenge!”
“It’ll work,” Givens agreed.
“It would even work with soldiers, for that matter,” Stracha added.
Danel gave a mock threatening scowl.
“We’ll give it a try,” Alec agreed. “But if anyone pulls weapons on us, we need to just walk away. We don’t want to get in trouble and attract any attention to ourselves.”
Pryce led the group down the road towards the riverside, inspecting each tavern they passed, then finally stopped in front of one he seemed to judge was seedy enough to suffice. He looked back at his followers, then entered the door and drew all eyes. “I’ll gamble an hour of pleasure with my sister against your money that my boy here can beat any one of you in arm wrestling!” he said as he surprised Stracha by pulling her up to the front of the group with him.
Stracha shot a malevolent stare at Pryce, but kept her mouth shut.
“Judging by the way she looked at you, how are we supposed to believe she can give a man an hour of pleasure?” a voice in the back of the dark tavern room asked, resulting in a round of raucous laughter.
“We’ll give you the first match with no money on the line, just to show you how weak you all are. We can talk about the girl for the stake in the second match, if you like,” Pryce subtly shifted the attention of the room from Stracha to Alec. He took the cue and walked to an empty table, where he sat down at the corner and placed his elbow on the table.
Within seconds, an average-sized man, one who had already drank a pint or two of ale, rose and then sat down across from Alec. “Let’s see what you’ve got, youngster,” the erstwhile opponent said as he raised his hand and placed it against Alec’s.
Pryce placed his hands over the two clasped antagonists. “You’ll start when I lift my hands and say ‘go,’ and the winner has to force the back of the other’s hand onto the table.
“Are you ready?” he asked and looked at each seated figure, who nodded. “Go!” he shouted and raised his hands abruptly.
As soon as he did, Alec slammed the other man’s hand against the table.
“I wasn’t ready! I must not have been ready!” the man exclaimed, after three seconds of stunned amazement. “Trammer, check to see if the boy was holding onto something under the table or getting leverage!” he irritably directed his drinking companion.
“We’ll do it again, and everyone can watch closely,” Pryce announced. “This is a second, and final, free try,” he announced, as several men rose from their seats and came closer to watch.
Pryce positioned the two battlers and made them lock their non-working, left, hands together so they could be seen by all, then released their hands and shouted “Go!” once again. Just as quickly, Alec engaged his powers and pressed his overmatched opponent’s hand to the table.
“There you have it; proof positive that no man alive can defeat our young soldier, er, Gordon, a natural phenomena of strength!”Pryce began a well-delivered patter that made Alec wonder what he had done before entering the army, and what scams he pulled on his fellow soldiers.
“Not so fast,” a deep voice called from the ring of observers, and a huge barrel of a man pressed forward from the crowd. He placed a hand on the shoulder of Alec’s still seated victim, and casually pushed him down the bench, then heavily landed there himself.
“The little lady in red will hold your wagers,” Pryce continued in his patter, that suddenly reminded Alec of the carnival barkers he had known when he had worked with Richard’s carnival. Alec flashed back to the scenes he had watched with the carnival.
“Go!” Pryce shouted, and Alec came out of his revere as he felt his hand flying towards the table. He frantically engaged his powers and stopped his hand just an inch above the table. Regaining his composure, Alec looked up from the table to look in the confident eyes of his opponent, then steadily raised his hand and watched the face across the table change from a confident grin to a chagrined scowl as Alec won the match.
“I wasn’t ready!” Alec said through clenched teeth to Pryce.
“You did great. Way to build the drama!” Pryce replied.
“Who wants to go next?” he shouted.
Up stepped another large man with powerful arms, who Alec beat, and then a wiry man, who Alec beat.
“Here’s the problem, he’s got an advantage,” another man shouted.
“He needs to have a drink of ale. You put a pint of the stout in him and I’ll wrestle him two-out-of-three,” the man in the crowd spoke loudly, holding up a sheaf of bills.
“What do you say, Gordon? Want to wet your whistle? You’d do more business!” Pryce urged.
“I remember the last time I drank in a tavern,” Alec said. “I was sick for three days and told a girl I loved her, and I’d never met her before!
“And I don’t even like ale,” he added.
A round of laughter went up in the tavern.
“I haven’t had anything to eat yet. I’m hungry,” Alec tried a new complaint.
“Here lad, have a plate of hearty meat on the house,” a serving man miraculously delivered a lunch plate and a tankard of ale to Alec. He was clearly pleased with the spectacle and the crowd that was gathering, and boisterously drinking even though it was only mid-afternoon.
Alec inhaled deeply, took a bite of food, then drank from the tankard, to cheers from the surrounding crowd, as he closed his eyes and swallowed the bitter brew. The other members of his squad were also eating, he noticed, and some were drinking ale as well. For several minutes he methodically ate and drank, then pushed the empty containers away.
His erstwhile opponent sat down across from him, and Alec used his powers to summarily defeat the man
.
“Make him drink another pint and I’ll take him on,” a new member of the crowd shouted.
“I really don’t think it’s a good idea,” Alec told Pryce.
“You’re on a roll! Just do one more,” the confident promoter urged.
Alec saw the serving man already approaching with another mug, and he dutifully accepted it, then took a large swig. It tasted less bad that the first pint had, so he took a breath and drank again.
“Can we just do it now?” Alec asked. “This will be my last bout of the day.”
Although he hadn’t finished his pint, the man across the table seemed satisfied that Alec was catching up, and he placed his elbow on the table and gripped Alec’s hand. Alec watched with unfocused eyes as Pryce placed his hands on top of the two at the table, then released them and shouted “Go!” again.
Alec felt his arm bending backwards, and tried to ignite his powers to stop it, but found that he couldn’t find the path to tap into the energy realm. He clenched his arm and stopped the backward momentum, but could make no progress forward as he held his hand inches above the table top.
The other man had his face wrenched in determination. Alec renewed his effort to find his powers, but the beer and the increased cheering and noise around him were too distracting; his hand began to drop lower in increments of fractions of inches, and he strained to prevent it from falling further. But momentum and gravity had set in, and he felt the end of the match as his knuckles banged against the table.
Preserving the Ingenairii Page 20
