Veil of the Deserters

by Jeff Salyards

  His lieutenants saluted and left. Perhaps more grudgingly than they had in Rivermost, and no doubt grumbling and grousing. That did seem to be the life of a soldier.

  Braylar was eyeing me, “Yes? You have something to offer as well? Out with it. Why should my trusted lieutenants be the only ones to question my every move or motive? With Lloi gone, you must pick up the slack, Arki. I see you wish to add something, so add it.”

  I did, though I intended to bring it up another time. Still, no time was likelier to result in an answer I wanted, so I said, “You mentioned the scrolls you scavenged.”

  He stared at me. “I do not recall using the word scavenged. Despite the sigil of our Tower, we are not jackals or crows. But what of them?”

  “And they are old, ancient even?”

  His gaze shifted into a glare so I hurried on. “I have a good working knowledge of a handful of languages, contemporary, as well as older iterations. And if you scav… discovered them mostly in Anjuria, I can make out Middle or even Old Anjurian well enough. I could decipher them for you. Or try at least.”

  He gave me an impenetrable look. Those worried me the most. “An interesting proposal. And do you make this offer out of your commitment to our cause now, or because you cannot resist a scholarly mystery?”

  Sensing an opening, and without thinking, I replied, “I still don’t know what your cause is, or whether the thing you do and purport to do are even the same. But I do like a good mystery. You wouldn’t need to involve someone else. And I already know the penalty for any treachery. You’ve made that abundantly clear.”

  Braylar didn’t answer immediately, a half-smile on his lips, no doubt weighing the benefits of involving me deeper against any mistrust he still harbored. I waited anxiously until he finally replied, “The Syldoon are the ultimate pragmatists and utilitarians, Arki. We recognize talent, use talent, and reward talent. That is one secret to our success and superiority to kingdoms where bloodlines are all, no matter how thin, diluted, or poisoned. So you see, I am encouraged you arrived at the proposal on your own. It saves me the trouble.”

  When he saw my expression, my slow recognition, he laughed, and for once it sounded not only genuine but free of mockery or bile or any other nasty thing. I said, “That was why you hired me, and the previous scribes as well, wasn’t it? After testing me, after I passed, you were going to open that chest and ask me to start sifting through the contents. Right?”

  He switched to Syldoonian. “Oh, I still have my misgivings. Have no doubt on that score. But yes, you shall have your crack at the mystery, bookmaster. Let us see what you see. But not tonight. Tonight you pack, and we leave early on the morrow.”

  Braylar waited to see if I comprehended or not. I’d never admitted that I studied and could understand Syldoonian well enough, though butchered it when I attempted to speak it. So I opted for sticking with Anjurian in responding. “Thank you, Captain Killcoin. I will prepare for the journey and look forward to unraveling the treasures you’ve gathered.”

  He laughed again, almost a bark, and shook his head. “I should have known. More fool me.” Then he turned and headed to his quarters. I stood there, stunned that I’d scored a victory, of sorts, and thrilled that I would have something to occupy my time and exercise my skills besides simply recording the murky doings of my patron and his retinue.

  After preparing my things to head out in the morning, I stared up into the rafters as I listened to the revelers in the beer garden below, my mind alert and jumpy, as I imagined what secrets or knowledge might be contained in the material the Syldoon had gathered. They wouldn’t go to such lengths to collect them if they were just lay subsidy rolls, or a catalogue of a larder, or anything trivial or mundane. They’d traveled far, and in secret, to gather them, so there had to be something fabulous on some of those pages. Surely some of them. Or at least the strong possibility. But what? What would I discover? Provided I hadn’t overpromised in my linguistic abilities. What secrets would I unravel?

  The possibilities were delicious enough to keep me up for hours. Soldiers might have been that excited on the eve of a battle, or courtiers before trying to conquer the chastity of a lady, or maybe sailors before departing on a voyage. I knew my ambitions were modest, even silly to most men. Especially those lacking in education. The idea of spending any time at all sifting through dusty tomes and arcane quill marks would seem the dullest enterprise known to man. But to me, that was what I missed about university the most—the opportunity to explore knowledge, recent or crumbling with age, that those who had come before saw fit to pen to the page in an effort to preserve and protect. There was a certain thrill about coming across even an old subsidy, working out the translation, exercising the mind. And nothing so keen or sharp an excitement as coming across something that had, for whatever reasons, gained a certain value or currency over the years, something lost or critically important or of such significance that men would pay handsomely, or even kill, to obtain it.

  I would never be a man of martial prowess, or wealth or power, or even an important one in most circles. But if I could uncover some treasure in the midst of all those pages, then, for the moment at least, I would be worthy, practically invaluable. Yes, Braylar could find another scholar, but he’d already gone through some, and I’d managed to secure a spot in the company, even as I broke into the crate. Maybe because of it. Maybe the captain had even been waiting for me to take initiative. But either way, whether I’d passed a test or he’d forgiven me my failure, he was giving me a grand opportunity. And no matter how few men would understand, or appreciate, it was one that kept my mind abuzz. It felt like I was finally realizing my purpose.

  Perhaps tethering myself to the Syldoon hadn’t been the most foolish decision I’d ever made after all.

  It seemed like I had only just drifted to sleep to that thought when I felt a hand roughly shaking my shoulder.

  I opened my eyes, blinded by lantern light. “What… is it… what’s happening?”

  Vendurro stood back, though I recognized the voice before the blurry silhouette came into focus. “Got to move, Arki. Cap says we got to move.”

  I looked out the window, and didn’t see the faintest hint of dawn, which didn’t stop me from asking, “It’s not dawn—is it? I thought… the captain said we were leaving sometime tomorrow. Later today, I mean. During daylight, that is. What’s changed?”

  Vendurro started for the door, looked over his shoulder, the lantern casting wild shadows on the wall as it swung in his hand. “Bloodsounder.” Said alone like that, it sounded like the ominous clap of a great leaden bell. “Cap says there’s a fight of some kind coming to us. Right quick, from the sounds of it. Cap ain’t like to rouse us and set us in motion unless he had real good cause. You know that as good as any. I can’t explain it, not a lick, guessing you can’t, nor nobody else for that matter, but we all seen that when he feels a thing, it’s got as much chance as coming true as not. Better, if he feels it strong enough. And if you saw his face just now, you’d know there weren’t nothing subtle or slight about it. So we’re heading out to meet it. All of us. Get dressed, grab your things.”

  He left the lantern on a hook, still swinging crazily, and pulled the door shut behind him. I heard voices on the other side, as no doubt the rest of the Syldoon were up and ready to move. To head out. To meet some unknown foe in the dark.

  All thoughts of scrolls and happy translations disappeared faster than spilled water in the sand. Precious, and gone in an instant, as if it never existed at all.

  I jumped out of bed, tripping on the blankets, nearly landing on my face. I hoped the captain was wrong. He’d been wrong at the Three Casks. Well, half wrong. Violence had come, it just hadn’t involved the Syldoon. And when they were ambushed in the temple ruins by Henlester’s soldiers, he hadn’t been able to discern or decipher whatever flickers he might have sensed. Braylar had misgivings, those borne of a naturally distrustful and calculating nature, and he’d certainly expected som
ething. But Blood-sounder hadn’t given any warning at all, or not enough to persuade him.

  However, the captain had been right out on the steppe. Eerily so. That was impossible to dismiss as coincidence. And he’d been far more certain before that violence occurred. So if he was equally convinced now…

  Dressing as quickly as I could, I still clung to the thin hope that maybe he was mistaken, but dreading the reality that he likely wasn’t. Fortunately, I’d already stowed my writing supplies and clothes in advance of our planned trip, so it didn’t take very long. When I had it all together, I took one last look around, and was about to head to the door when I saw I’d nearly left Lloi’s curved sword behind. It was in its scabbard, leaning against the wall at the foot of the bed.

  I knew I was likely to do more damage to myself than any opponent, but it would feel good to have some means of defending myself. Plus, I couldn’t simply leave it behind. Well, I could have—no one else would have known or cared. But it was hers, which made it mine by default now. So along it came. I set my writing case down long enough to buckle the scabbard belt around my waist, gathered everything again, and suddenly felt a sharp reluctance to leave.

  There shouldn’t have been any pull at all—it wasn’t that great a room, and I’d only been there for a few days. Part of it was the fear of whatever unknown threat was not far beyond the door, the bloodshed I’d see or be a part of. But it was more than that. Maybe it was the fact that I was only slightly less nomadic than the Grass Dogs, never inhabiting a place for long. It was foolish—I knew the Grieving Dog was a temporary abode, and we wouldn’t be in Alespell forever. But even accustomed to being on the move, I wasn’t prepared to quit the room yet.

  Vendurro’s voice startled me. “You about ready? Doesn’t matter, either way, time to go.” He poked his head in the door and saw that I had all my belongings and nodded. “Alright then. Let’s have at it.” And then he disappeared again.

  The common room was a flurry of activity. Syldoon I’d only seen once or twice were carrying supplies, and doing it in a hurry, shouldering past each other, armor jingling, boots scuffling, cursing in harsh whispers when there was an impasse at the main door leading to the hall. It was amazing the whole inn wasn’t awake. Maybe it was—I heard a door open down the hall and someone start to tell the Syldoon to keep it down before being shouted at and shutting it quickly. Clearly, Braylar wasn’t intending to slip off in the night like wraiths or overly worried about appearances now. He must have been certain indeed to put all his soldiers into action before dawn. That didn’t bode well at all.

  I held my writing case to my chest, a satchel slung over my shoulder, conscious that I was the only unarmored man in the room. And the only one standing still.

  Braylar marched out of his quarters, and I noticed immediately that he was more heavily armored than at any point I’d seen him. Where he’d worn his scale cuirass underneath a tunic both in the grass and during the battles around the ruined temple, he now had on a mail byrnie with a lamellar cuirass on top, and vambraces of an unusual splinted design on his forearms, and splinted greaves on his lower legs. Clearly, he was expecting a full-on fight, and in no hurry to disguise his intention to meet it head on. Captain Killcoin said something quickly to Hewspear, who nodded and headed out into the hall as well. The captain saw me and strode over, eyed me up and down, stopping only briefly on Lloi’s sword. I almost expected him to tell me to unbuckle it right then and there, but instead he said, “Ahh, so good to see a seasoned veteran in the command room. Always inspires the troops. Given that you are ready for the road, I take it Vendurro briefed you.”

  I looked around quickly, bearing in mind Hewspear’s point about revealing only what was necessary about Bloodsounder. “Vendurro told me violence was coming. And seemed certain. Or certain you were certain. Which amounts to the same thing, I suppose. Is it like… the Green Sea, then? You are certain?”

  He took a step closer—his breath wasn’t as fouled by ale as it had been of late, but wasn’t free from the vapors either. He managed a whisper and growl together, “Very little in this world is certain, but my temper is one of them if you don’t keep your voice down. As to what is coming, it is enough that I am unwilling to gamble on being wrong.”

  Two soldiers bumped into us, carrying the case of scrolls—my treasure!—and mumbled and apologized to the captain before colliding with the table.

  “I’ve seen newborn calves with better balance. Careful, you whoresons.”

  One said, “Sorry, Cap!” and they hustled out, letting another Syldoon in the room before tromping into the hall.

  I was about to ask Braylar what we were doing, but Mulldoos appeared next to us and I shut my mouth. “Boys are near to ready, Cap. Main battalion are heading out with you, the remainder are holding back with the wagons, like you ordered. Got ourselves a problem, though.”

  “I imagine we have several. Anytime you rouse the troops in the middle of the night to tell them plans have moved up, many things can go awry. What, specifically, are you referring to?”

  Mulldoos glanced over his shoulder, and seeing no other soldiers coming or going, replied, “Got to figure we’re up against Brune’s bunch, right? I mean, you didn’t say as much, but then you didn’t have to. Now, the gates are supposed to be open just after dawn, Fair hours. But if it’s that prick Gurdinn or any other Bruneboys come calling, even if we leave their corpses in the street without a casualty and break for a gate, real good chance we might find it shuttered tight. But even if we win free, the wagons and stragglers will be, well, straggling. Maybe we should have them trail close behind. If it’s a lock in, our best chance is to break free in force.”

  Braylar nodded. “Perhaps so. But while the good baron has no doubt attempted to gather some intelligence about how many Syldoon he has in his city, we’ve done an even better chance of disguising our number and keeping ourselves scattered. He will be expecting us to try to flee in a group. Those wagons are going to go slower. Even if we abandon some supplies, the bulk even, we’re not leaving the recent cargo. Too big for horse, so wagon it is. If most of our force litters the street with their bloodied soldiers and makes for a gate, locked or otherwise, they will not be looking for the rest to come in a smaller party.”

  “Fair point, but—”

  “I wasn’t finished, Lieutenant. Mobility is our greatest ally. Always was and will be. So we ambush the ambushers and take flight, but the wagons would only slow us down. Our one chance to really see them out as well is to take the risk of them leaving separately once the gates are clear, and reconnecting well outside Alespell. Once we’ve assured ourselves we have lost or beaten any pursuit.”

  Mulldoos nodded vigorously. “So they go separate. Fine. But we should at least provide some other kind of diversion. Beyond just us killing Bruneboys in the streets, I mean. If we do win free—”

  “When.”

  “When we win free, then, even if they ain’t looking real hard for more Syldoon, they won’t be half-asleep at the gates neither. Might be checking wagons real close. I would. And you’d check them twice as close.”

  Braylar nearly smiled. “Very well. What did you have in mind?”

  When Mulldoos didn’t reply right away, it was obvious he had been operating in extemporaneous mode. Once again, my words came out before I’d examined them carefully beforehand. “The ripper.”

  Both men looked at me in surprise, clearly having forgotten I was standing right there. I pushed on, “The other day, I saw a ripper caged near the main plaza. On display. About as terrible a creature as Lloi described, maybe more so. Tore a boy’s hand clean off like it was… a page from a book. If someone freed it…”

  I left the thought unfinished, because I hadn’t really considered the consequences of the suggestion, and when I did, it was impossible to say them out loud.

  Braylar seized on it immediately. “A ripper running free would cause chaos. The very kind to draw the attention of every city guard in the quarter.”r />
  Mulldoos nodded. “Like to kill a few folks, for certain. Anybody who wasn’t would be heading for the gates right quick. Brune couldn’t double his damage by impeding them neither.” He smiled, showing several shockingly white and uneven teeth. “That’s vicious, scribbler. Right vicious. Didn’t think you had it in you.” He turned back to Braylar. “Wish I’d thought of it myself, but it’s plaguing perfect.”

  Braylar agreed. “Near to it. See it done.”

  Mulldoos’s looked at me again, but something akin to grudging appre ciation instead of the ready disgust that so often sat there. He saluted his captain and headed to the door.

  When I blurted out the suggestion, I had an image in mind of the beast running loose, roaring, scaring everyone in the city, but foolishly, I hadn’t imagined that it would be killing as it went. But of course it would. It attacked a boy through the bars—if it had run of the city, even for a short time before the watch or soldiers cornered it and took it down, surely more bodies or pieces would be left in its wake.

  I felt my stomach twist and said, “Captain, about the ripper, I—”

  “Very clever, Arki. Exceedingly, truth be told. Mulldoos is right—a surprisingly cold and calculating design. You have been in our company too long already, I fear. You are becoming more Syldoonian than the Syldoon.”

  He clapped me on the shoulder and turned to head back to his quarters when he heard a voice that stopped him short. Soffjian’s. “Brother, I must say, I hadn’t expected such compliance. In fact, I was prepared for the likelihood that I was going to need to repeatedly remind you of the Emperor’s very limited leniency. And yet here I discover you and your men scrambling around as if in preparation for an invasion. Curious.”