The Betrayed

by Matthew Dickerson

  “Pick a target you consider a fair test,” Thimeon said, nocking the arrow to the string. “And if your supply of arrows is small, a target we can easily retrieve the arrow from.”

  The man looked around. Thimeon also looked for a target. A tree was no good as an arrow would likely break or embed too deeply to be removed. The man must have been thinking the same thing. He pointed at a large rotten stump about thirty yards off the trail.

  Thimeon was a good archer. Probably the best in Aeti. His father had taught him from childhood not to boast, but if there was ever a time to prove himself, it was now. “The whole stump?” he asked with a laugh. “I asked for a test, not a gift. How about the mushroom on the smaller stump fifteen yards behind that?” Before Lluanthro could answer, Thimeon had drawn the bow in one smooth motion and let fly the arrow. It struck the mushroom with a thud. Not quite in the center but close enough, especially for a bow he had never drawn. Maybe one in seven men from Aeti could have matched the shot. He turned toward the men in the wagon. They had big smiles and nodded their heads with approval.

  A minute later, Thimeon had retrieved the arrow and was back beside the wagon, and the one called Lluanthro introduced his companions. “You have met my brother Augnoustico. He goes by Augs, which is good to know if you are with us for a while. This is my younger son, Athropas, who drove the wagon behind us.” Thimeon extended his hand. A lad of about sixteen years shook it warmly. “And this is his friend Rammas, one of our hired lads.” Rammas, who looked a year or two older, was tall and lanky with stringy black hair and downy fuzz of an unsuccessful attempt at a beard. But he had a friendly smile and the strong grip of somebody who knows how to work hard. All four of them were dressed in trousers and woolen jackets of red or brown, well made and also well worn.

  “Shall we depart?” Lluanthro asked. “My older son is no longer at my side, I’m afraid.” Thimeon noted a hint of sadness in his voice as he said this. But Lluanthro went on almost at once. “For you, however, that is good news today. There is room in my wagon if you will travel with us. Seeing you shoot, I’m happy to have your bow with us. If your sword is half as good, we’ll welcome that as well. We go to Citadel, and you can ride with us as far as you’d like.”

  “An unfriendly city, these days,” Thimeon said. “Yet it is my destination too.” A minute later he was aboard the wagon. “And now for a plan,” he said, before they could even start moving.

  “A plan?”

  “A plan for dealing with the robbers,” Thimeon said. “For, though my appearance may seem to you like that of a beggar—and though I am desperate for a ride to Citadel—I spoke the truth about those men.”

  “And you think they were robbers?”

  “My father taught me to always assume the best of people,” Thimeon replied. “And I try. It may be they were innocent men traveling peacefully. I would like to hope so.” But then he shook his head. “But I would wager my last bite of meat they lie in wait not far ahead.” He turned and looked in the wagon. Huge clay jars filled the back, and in one corner sat a small heavy box with metal bands and a lock. “Whatever your merchandise, I’m sure they’d like to get a hold of it.”

  “Whale oil,” Lluanthro replied. “Not much use for robbers in the wild and not easy to carry, but it will fetch a good price in the city.”

  “Money is what they want,” Augs said, spitting over the side of the wagon.

  Thimeon looked at Augs, then again at the other three. When his eyes settled again on Athropas, he finally realized who the father and son reminded him of. The lad looked very much like a younger version of Lluach, and the father like an older version. Lluanthro’s earlier comments and the sadness of his eyes took on new light. “My older son is no longer at my side, I’m afraid.” Was this too much of a coincidence to hope for?

  Thimeon turned back to Lluanthro. He decided to take a gamble. “Chance meetings may be more than the chance that they seem. Years ago my father told me there were no such thing as coincidences in the All-Maker’s plan. It is an old adage among my people, though like many old adages one no longer spoken.”

  The merchant looked at Thimeon. Thimeon met the gaze and took a deep breath. “As surely as I’d wager that those other riders were thieves, I would also wager that your elder son of whom you spoke goes by the name Lluach, and that the reason he is not with you is that he left home to serve in the army at Citadel.”

  At the mention of Lluach, the merchant’s jaw dropped in stunned surprise, and Thimeon knew at once that his guess had hit home. He didn’t give Lluanthro time to ask any questions. “I have news of him that will interest you. I promise I will give it to you. Indeed, we will have many hours together in the wagon. But the danger ahead of us is real, and it cannot wait. For now I will tell you that when I last saw your son he was healthy. I will not lie and tell you he is safe. Indeed, none of us is free of danger in these days. But he no longer serves Citadel.”

  Tears rolled down Lluanthro’s cheek, and the others in the wagons looked equally surprised to hear this news from a stranger. But Thimeon knew the rest of the story would have to wait. “As I promised, I will tell a fuller tale before this day is done. But now let us concern ourselves with the safety of the son who is with you. Not many robbers dwell in the mountains near my home, and the thieves who do live there are poorly armed and not overly bold. Six of them together would not attack even two well-armed men. But the seven men who rode past here were well armed, and they looked confident. If they guess your merchandise is of enough value, they might risk attacking even five of us. Still, if possible, I would guess they will attempt to get it without the risk of injury to themselves, through some threats and intimidation or trickery.”

  Lluanthro wiped the tears from his face. At first his voice shook, but it grew steadier as he spoke. “I have made this journey often. Before this day, I’ve never faced trouble with robbers that I couldn’t handle. Yet I admit that the way grows more dangerous each year. What the king does with all his soldiers, I don’t know.” He looked down at the locked box. “I’m afraid my frequent travels on the road might be a blow against me. My face is well enough known in these parts, and those who know me know that, in addition to the oils, I am also a pearl merchant. If the thieves got their hands on that box, then they would all be rich.”

  “Or one of them would be,” Rammas said. “Likely as not, with that much money they’d end up stabbing one another in the backs.”

  “Should we turn around?” Augs asked. “We can go home and come back in a few days with more men.”

  “I’m not afraid to continue,” Athropas said.

  Lluanthro shook his head. “I am, and you would do well to learn a little fear yourself. I’m inclined to follow my brother’s advice and turn back. Still, it would be four or more days lost, and I would either have to hire guards or use my own men, in which case I lose their labor at home for many days.”

  Thimeon was silent, his thoughts turned inward. Already he had grown to like the merchant and his family. After a moment he spoke. “Though I have great need to get to Citadel, I would understand if you turned around. Yet if you’ll listen a moment, I have a plan that might get us both through.”

  A short time later a single wagon headed down the hill toward Citadel with a lone rider at the reins. A broad tarp covered the back of the wagon. It traveled less than a mile and was just coming into a thicker patch of woods, when a stranger stepped out into the road. He looked up at the wagon, and seeing only one man in it, he gave a little smile. Then his face turned grave.

  “Stop,” he cried. “I beg you. My wife is hurt and wounded. She lies a short distance into the woods. We need your help.”

  “Hurt?” asked Lluanthro, who sat alone in the wagon. “How did it happen?”

  The man paused. “She was bitten by a viper.”

  “Bring her to the wagon,” Lluanthro said in a concerned voice. “I’ll carry you
to help.”

  “I can’t lift her alone. I’ll need your help.”

  Lluanthro nodded. He reached behind him and picked up a long object wrapped in fabric, then stepped down from the wagon. No sooner was he on the ground, away from the reins to his horses, when six more men stepped out of the trees, three on each side of the road, all holding swords. “Your merchandise,” demanded the first stranger, who had suddenly drawn a knife from the folds of his cloak. “Where is it?”

  “It’s only whale oil,” Lluanthro replied in a frightened voice as he stared wild-eyed at the six armed men who had emerged. “In jars in the back.”

  The robber raised his knife to Lluanthro’s neck. “Don’t lie. Where are the pearls?”

  A look of surprise crossed the merchant’s face. “Pearls? I don’t—”

  “Pearls,” the man interrupted through a snarl. “Deny it again and I kill you now.”

  “But how did you know?” the merchant stammered.

  The man smiled and turned toward his fellows. “Open the wagon. The jars are nothing. Start dumping them out one at a time until you find the pearls. Or,” he said, turning back to Lluanthro, “tell us where the pearls are hidden, and you can keep your oil. At least you won’t go to Citadel empty-handed.”

  Lluanthro shook his head. “The pearls aren’t with me. A stranger told me he had seen robbers ahead, so I sent the pearls back to Aënport in the other wagon.”

  Once more the knife came several inches closer to Lluanthro’s throat. But then one of the other robbers stepped forward. “He might be speaking the truth. I thought I saw two wagons, and they stopped on the hill for a long time. And we did pass that vagabond.”

  “Curse the vagabond,” the leader spat, still holding his knife to the merchant’s throat. “We should have slit his throat. We had better get those pearls, or you’re dead.” He turned to four of his men. “Get on your horses at once and ride fast. If that wagon has turned around, you can catch up to it quick enough. Kill whomever you find. Then drag the wagons into the woods before somebody else comes along. We can search for the pearls later. Or hold their owner as ransom until they’re delivered.”

  Four of the robbers nodded. They sheathed their blades and disappeared into the trees. A moment later they reappeared with their horses and galloped westward along the road. They soon passed out of sight, riding back over the hill. The leader turned to the remaining two members of his band. “Just in case he’s lying, open the wagon and search. If we find the pearls here, we don’t need to say anything to the others, and we’ll have four fewer men to share them with.”

  The two men smirked and obeyed. They stepped to the back of the wagon while their leader moved Lluanthro in that direction with the tip of his knife. He pulled the tarp off the wagon, and in that instant, the two robbers gasped. Thimeon was seated inside, Augs beside him. Both had bows in their hands, drawn, with arrows aimed at the robbers’ throats. They turned to their leader for help, but he was already flat on the ground. Lluanthro had a knee on his wrist and his own knife pointed at thief’s neck.

  By the time the other four men returned, more than an hour later, their three comrades had been tied and dragged into the woods. Thimeon stood behind the wagon as they rode up. His back was to the road, and he ignored the approaching riders as he pretended to search the contents of the wagon. He was, however, no longer dressed in his Plains attire; he wore the jacket and hat of the outlaw leader, who was about the same height.

  “We found the wagon,” one of the returning men yelled as they all dismounted and approached from behind. “But it was empty, and there was no sign of the hor—”

  His voice was cut short as Thimeon swung around with a sword. None of them had their weapons drawn, and before they could even put their hands to the hilts, Lluanthro and Augs had stepped from behind the wagons with bows drawn. “Your three comrades are already tied up,” Thimeon said, as the men moved their hands toward their swords. “You can choose to fight. But if you do, two of you will fall dead at once. That will leave the other two of you to take your chances against three of us. Or you can toss your swords aside and lie face down on the ground.”

  7

  MOTHERS AND BROTHERS

  Whatever the explanation, the news that their pursuers had not given up was enough to hurry Elynna into action, especially after Marti raised the possibility that the war band might turn northwest and cut them off before they reached the mountains. They ate a quick meal of hot grain porridge and smoked fish, then gathered their belongings to depart.

  As they stepped out through the doorway, they were met by Beth, Anchara, Hruach, and Hrevia. Beth’s warm greeting was cut short when she heard the news. They listened intently as Nahoon explained what he had heard. Beth nodded, but she did not appear dismayed. She put her hand on Elynna’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. This is what we expected. We will be long gone before our enemy arrives. And they will have no way of following us except a long passage around the lake. We will soon be days ahead of them again.”

  Elynna nodded. She did not say aloud that she worried as much about Tanengog as about their own company. How much more guilt would she have to bear?

  Beth and Marti led them off at once through the village toward the lake. The walk was hurried though not unpleasant despite the recent news. The morning was warm. The sky was bright blue, and the village was peaceful. It reminded her of Lienford—especially the low square houses built of stone and mortar. Good wood was even less plentiful on the Plains than on the Westwash. Yet the village was also different. There was more activity here. More children playing in the paths. More people walking about, talking.

  Then Elynna came over the hill and saw the lake for the first time in daylight, spread out before her. She took a deep breath. It was beautiful. She had never imagined anything more beautiful than the sea, but this was a rival. The water was an even deeper green, with wave tips that rippled silver in the breeze. She wondered how deep the lake was, and how far across, and what kind of fish lived in it. Out of habit, she looked for her friend Tienna to ask, then remembered that Tienna was gone. And Thimeon too. She was surprised to find herself wishing Thimeon could see the lake. He would have appreciated it. Even during the most grueling parts of their travels together, he had always found a time and a way to admire the beauty of their surroundings, whether it was sweeping vistas of snow-covered peaks or the delicate splendor of a small wildflower or even the loveliness of some little songbird hidden in the trees. And where was he now? How much of their hopes rested in his return to Citadel? She did not even know. She did know that he would be all alone. And the evil he headed toward in Citadel was as great as the evil the company pursued across the Plains and into the Undeani mountains. But she could not worry about him. The company had enough fears of their own.

  Urged on by Nahoon, they strode down the small slope and soon arrived at a harbor where Marti already waited for them, engaged in an intense conversation with a small gathering of villagers. Elynna, who had spent her life around boats and water, felt at home almost at once. She would have loved a morning to wander around the shore. She noticed the absence of piers and ramps that a seacoast town with tides would have had, but other parts of the scene seemed familiar: the cries of gulls, the mist in the air, the old nets and buoys and piles of ropes stacked about here and there. A handful of larger boats were anchored a few dozen yards off shore. A half dozen more were moored to one long floating wooden dock. Several more docks, hauled out of the water for the winter, were stacked farther up the shore along with dozens of smaller boats that lay upside down and covered by tarps.

  They stopped at the edge of the dock, where two large boats were moored close to shore and a third was drawn up on the beach with two people working on it. As Elynna and the others approached, Marti turned and greeted them. He was sipping a hot drink out of a tall mug shaped like a duck with its wings tucked beneath. With a gesture behind him, he exp
lained that he had arranged these boats for the companions’ travel. His people were eager to help and had offered several more. However, many of the boats had already been taken out of the water and stored for the winter, and would take half a day to prepare for travel. He reminded the company again that winter was coming soon, and with it would come storms too fierce for even the largest of their boats. Most of the coves and smaller bays in the lake would freeze over within a few weeks, or sooner. Though the morning was mild, Elynna thought back on the preternatural winter that had engulfed the Ceadani highlands and nearly frozen her company. She did not feel ready for another winter. And though she had spent a lifetime on boats and did not fear water, she also knew what a fierce storm could do.

  She glanced around at the boats still afloat in the small harbor. Judging from the sizes, a few of them were meant only for travel around the sheltered bay by the village and were not safe enough for the large swells she expected in the open lake. Most of the others she concluded would ply too slowly, or were simply not large enough to hold many passengers.

  Marti seemed to be reading her mind. “I thought it would be best if we divided up into as few boats as possible. Keep us together. These are the three that can cross with reasonable speed and together carry all of the company.”

  Elynna nodded. “Thank you,” she said. “You’ve done well. And your people are generous. I hope you weren’t up all night arranging this.”

  “Not all night. But much of it, yes,” Marti admitted. “Do not worry. All the time I was out looking for boats was time spent with family and friends. This is my home, remember? I have not been here in many weeks, and I don’t know when—or if—I will ever return. I would have spent much of the night awake visiting even if I hadn’t been arranging for the boats.” He smiled and held up his mug. “In any case, a good drink of this does wonders. I’d forgotten how much I liked it. I should have brought some for the trip.”