Yet … if the man was a drunkard, if he could not do the work for which he’d been hired, if he continued to show disrespect for Selfer as his commander and Burek as a fellow officer, they would be better off without him. He wondered what kind of contract Harnik had signed. His own had been provisional, as he’d expected, but Arcolin had confirmed him as a permanent hire, with an initial two-year contract, at summer’s end.
It was light enough now to see the steady fall of the snow, the smoke from the kitchens disappearing into it, the shapes of the buildings and the piles of snow covering roofs and ground. Burek loved the silence of snow and the smell, so clean and pure; he stood a moment in the middle of the north wall parapet and let the snowflakes land on his face until they caught in his eyebrows and chilled his eyelids. Then, laughing at himself, he turned his back to the slight breeze, blinked the snow away, and looked down into the courtyard. One of Selfer’s corporals for the first round of daytime sentries, out of the mess, looked up, spotted him, and called, “Relief ready, Captain!”
“Relieve the posts, Corporal,” Burek called back. He retraced his steps to the first post and waited until the corporal and his little troop were up on the parapet, then walked along with them as each post changed shifts, and led those relieved down the steps by the front gate.
He expected to find Harnik and Selfer at breakfast in the mess hall, but only Selfer was there; he waved Burek over. “Guard changed, Captain Selfer,” Burek said. “Nothing to report on my last round, either.”
A cook’s helper came over with bowls of porridge and a basket of hot bread. The captains’ table already had a pitcher of honey and box of salt. “Here, Captains. Ham next.”
Burek poured a stream of honey into his porridge and sprinkled salt on it. “I thought Golden Company’s mess was good, but this is better.”
“Wait until you rotate up to the north,” Selfer said. “There’s a pastry cook at the stronghold as good as any you’d find in a Valdaire inn.”
“I’ve never seen the north at all,” Burek said. He ate rapidly, glancing now and then at the door, expecting to see Harnik.
“He’s still snoring,” Selfer said. “I banged on his door, and he grunted; I thought he was awake. But then, when I got my boots on and walked past his room on the way out, he was snoring again.”
Burek grinned. “We could give him a snow bath.”
Selfer thought about it, then shook his head. “Bad for discipline for the troops to see a captain dumped in the snow. But we could take a bucket in if he’s not up by the end of breakfast.”
“I can take care of the morning chore details,” Burek said. “The jacks detail is all out of my cohort anyway.” A server arrived with a platter of ham steaks; Burek stabbed one and pulled it onto his plate.
“You’ve been up all night,” Selfer said, cutting his own. “He should do it.”
“Yes, but if you need time to settle things with him, I can be out of the way and ensure the others are.” Burek wondered what was holding Selfer back. They really did not need a third captain, and if Harnik was going to cause trouble, better to let him go now.
“I wish I’d at least seen Arcolin before coming down here,” Selfer said. He ate two bites of ham steak before saying more; Burek finished his own and took another, raising his brows in question. “It’s complicated,” Selfer said. “This is the first time I’ve been on detached duty like this. I know I had Arcolin’s permission to hire someone temporarily, but I’ve never—I don’t know how to dismiss an officer. What if Harnik considers I do not have authority?”
“You hired him,” Burek said through a mouthful of bread. “Surely that proves your authority.”
“It should, but … Harnik has hinted that he thinks he should be senior—you’ve seen that, I’m sure.”
“Yes,” Burek said, thinking of what Harnik had said when he came in. “Insubordination?”
“Well, it may be. But if it comes to a court—down here—”
“It will not come to a court,” Burek said. “Have you talked to Count Arcolin’s banker or man of business?”
“Not about this, no. I didn’t think of it.”
“He accepted Count Arcolin’s letter, giving you authority to draw funds, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but—”
“Here, Guild League laws prevail … What you must show is the authority to make a contract, the contract itself, and nonfulfillment of a contract. You did have Harnik sign a contract, didn’t you?”
“Yes, of course. But he didn’t swear an oath.” Selfer sliced open a small loaf and pushed a slab of ham in it, then tucked it into his tunic. “Without that oath, the contract isn’t valid if Harnik challenges me.”
“That’s not Guild League law,” Burek said again. “If the banker has accepted Count Arcolin’s letter, then your right to make a contract is clear.”
“Is that really—? I thought, because the Company was oath-bound—”
“That matters to Count Arcolin and to you. But not to the merchants and courts of Valdaire. What do they care of the laws of another kingdom except when trading there?”
Burek remembered something Andressat had said in one of their long talks before he left. “If it worries you, why not talk to Count Arcolin’s banker? He will be discreet; bankers do not gossip. He can advise you on the law.”
Selfer nodded. “That is well, Burek; that is very well.”
They started out of the mess hall only to meet Harnik coming in. “Sorry I’m late, lads,” he said. “Something wrong with the ale last night, I think. Burek, can you take the work details this morning? I’ve got to get ready for the main exercise.” Without waiting for an answer, he went in to breakfast.
“Take a patrol into the city; I can stay up longer,” Burek said.
Selfer gripped his arm. “I will.”
Burek walked the rounds for a glass, checking each work detail, but as usual the sergeants had all in order. He could not help yawning now and then and wondered when Harnik would come out and relieve him. He assembled the troops in the courtyard, ready to march. Finally, he went to Harnik’s quarters and knocked. “They’re ready, Captain Harnik.”
The door opened; Harnik’s face was even more flushed, and Burek could smell the drink. “Is my horse ready?”
“Your horse?”
“Of course. I’m not going to slog through the snow like a—” He stopped and peered past Burek. “It’s snowing too hard. We can’t go out in this.” He shut the door in Burek’s face.
Burek stared at the wooden planks for a moment, trying to think how to handle this. He did not want to leave Harnik alone in the compound, not after what Selfer had told him. He turned to face the troops.
“Change of plan,” he said to Devlin. “Captain Harnik thinks it’s snowing too hard to go out on a march. So: weapons practice, here in the courtyard. Hauks instead of swords, though, in this wet snow.”
Between hauk drills in formation and close-order drill, Burek kept them busy until Selfer returned. Harnik did not reappear. Selfer arrived near midday with four other riders. Burek stared: Aesil M’dierra of Golden Company, Nasimir Clart of Clart Company, a Gird’s Marshal, and the hard-faced one-armed man he remembered as head of the mercenaries’ hiring hall. Selfer, when he dismounted, had an expression Burek recognized with relief: the senior captain had come to a firm decision.
“Captain Burek,” Selfer said. “Would you dismiss the troops to lunch, please. And then come to the Company offices.”
“Yes, Captain,” Burek said. By the time he turned around, the sergeants had their troops back in formation, and the dismissal took only a moment. Then he followed Selfer and the others into the large room where the Company records and maps were kept. The others stood in a row; Burek wondered why they were there and what Selfer planned. Selfer introduced the visitors—Marshal Steralt was the only one Burek had not met. They nodded at him but said nothing.
“Captain Burek, where is Captain Harnik?” Selfer asked.
“In his quarters,” Burek said. “He said it was snowing too hard to take the troops out.”
“And yet he had the duty to supervise today’s exercises, did he not?”
“Yes, sir.” Selfer knew that; it must be for the benefit of these witnesses.
“Was he drunk?”
Burek hesitated. “He—he looked flushed and smelled of drink when I knocked on his door to tell him the troops were assembled.”
“What did he do after he said it was too snowy?”
“Shut the door in my face,” Burek said.
“You mentioned something to me earlier today about insubordination,” Selfer said. “Please tell us about it.”
“I don’t remember his exact words,” Burek said. “It was when he came in last night—he said he’d thought of staying the night in the inn but felt we were too young to be left in charge without an older man—him—here.”
“I see.” Selfer went to the door and spoke to the soldier posted there. “Go tell Captain Harnik to come to the office at once.” Then, to Burek, “I’m sorry—you’ve been up all night and done his duty this morning as well, but what I learned in the city was too serious—it took time.”
Burek was far too curious now to feel sleepy. “I’m fine, Captain,” he said. He looked at the others while they waited for Harnik to appear. M’dierra, his former commander, gave him a brief approving nod. Nasimir Clart he knew by sight but had never spoken to; the wiry dark-haired man with a neat pointed beard looked him up and down and then transferred his gaze to Selfer. Gaster Teraloga from the hiring hall gave him a brief smile then looked away. The Marshal stared at the wall. Why had Selfer brought them?
They heard the soldier knock—once, then again, and again—and then a furious blurred voice yelling. Selfer took a step toward the door.
“Best not,” M’dierra said. “One of your sergeants, maybe?”
“I’ll just see,” Burek said. Selfer’s senior sergeant, Pedar Mattisson, attracted by the noise, was already coming; Burek signaled him and explained. Mattisson nodded.
Moments later he returned. “Captain, if I could have a word.”
“It’s not a secret, Sergeant. What’s his condition?”
“Drunk and incapable, Captain,” Mattisson said. “Roused enough to yell at the sentry, but when I went in, he was sprawled on his bed and there was an empty jug on the floor beside him. We can carry him in here if you want.”
“No,” Selfer said. “These witnesses must see him in his present condition.”
They all went to Harnik’s room; Harnik lay sprawled on his bed, a jug on the floor beside it, and did not respond to voice or shaking.
“Did you see a jug with him last night?” Selfer asked Burek.
“No, Captain,” Burek said. “He could have hidden it under his cloak, though. It was cold and snowing; we exchanged only a few words, and then he went into this room. I went back out as I had the watch.”
“Drunk, incapable, and insubordinate,” Nasimir Clart said. “And no surprise. And he told you he’d retired, Captain Selfer?”
“Yes. Said he’d left Clart Company to join his brother on a farm or something like that, and then the brother died …”
“And I was away, so you could not check what he said with me,” Clart said. “I say here, before witnesses, that this man was discharged from Clart Company for drunkenness and suspicion of theft.”
“Why did you not bring him to court?” asked Marshal Steralt.
“He had fought well enough in Siniava’s War,” Clart said. “He promised to go home to his family, and I saw no need to shame him.” At the Marshal’s sharp look, Clart shook his head. “I’m not Girdish, Marshal, as you know, nor yet a gnome to worship the law. That war changed many men.” He turned to Selfer. “But if I had known, Captain Selfer, that he presented himself as he did, I would have told you even if you had not come to me. I hope you believe that.”
“Certainly,” Selfer said. “I know Duke Phelan and Lord Arcolin always considered Clart Company honorable. I wish Lord Arcolin were here—”
“No need,” Marshal Steralt said. “There’s no doubt you have his authority to act in his place, and there’s no doubt this man lied when you hired him, exceeded his authority in purchasing fodder without permission, showed lack of respect for you and Captain Burek, and is now drunk when he should be on duty. His former commander speaks against him. It only remains to wake him up and finish this.”
Burek had never considered what it might take to discharge an officer from command, but one of the books in the Company offices laid out the specifications and procedures. Harnik, finally roused with a bucket of snow dumped on his face, had been half carried to the office where Marshal Steralt sat as judicar; Harnik paled when he saw Nasimir Clart. Burek and Selfer each gave his evidence again, as did Guildmaster Teraloga from the hiring hall and Clart.
Harnik first blustered, attacking Selfer for his youth and inexperience and suggesting—as Selfer had said he feared—that Selfer had no right to command. Then, confronted with his own lies and his obvious drunkenness, he wept, pleading for mercy.
“It is mercy Captain Selfer does not have you whipped in front of the troops,” M’dierra said.
When it was done and Harnik back in civilian clothes, out the gate into the swirling snow, banned from the mercenaries’ hiring hall, Clart said, “You have offered no blame, Captain Selfer, but I feel some responsibility. I have a young officer I could lend you until you find someone qualified—no cost to you but his board. He won’t give you trouble, I’ll stand for that.”
“And I have a nephew who came this past autumn,” Aesil M’dierra said. “It would be good for him to be under another’s command for a time. He’s eager to show himself capable.”
“I thank you,” Selfer said. “That would be a help.” When the others had left, he turned to Burek. “You’re just what I needed, Burek. One last thing: we should both tell the sergeants before the rumors get any wilder and make it clear we stand together. Then you’re to bed, if you’ll take my order.”
“Willingly,” Burek said, yawning.
Arvid had not planned to stay in the same lodging too long, but the snows that now came to Valdaire every day or so made the comfort of his inn too appealing. He knew everyone’s name from Jostin Psedann, the innkeeper, all the way down to Pidi, the boot-boy. Jostin greeted him cheerfully each day—it was all due to Arvid’s continued signs of prosperity, he knew, but still welcome. When a ground-floor room became available where Dattur could put his feet on stone, Jostin offered it to him first.
Dattur continued to act as Arvid’s servant, keeping their room spotless, mending and polishing anything he could find to mend and polish. In addition, he went out on his own, finding a rockfolk tailor for whom he could do contract work.
Arvid himself had a keen eye for value and soon learned which of the city’s markets and shops offered the best possibilities for small-scale trading … and the most gossip that he hoped would eventually lead to the necklace. His story—that he was a northern merchant who had not realized how early the pass over the mountains closed—brought nods and chuckles. Stranded northern merchants were nothing new. He and Dattur together made almost enough to cover their expenses, so he was sure the gold he’d taken from their abductors would last until spring.
They were still careful not to be seen much together; Dattur usually ate in their room or in one of the cookshops near the tailor’s where he worked. Gnomes were uncommon in Valdaire but not rare enough to excite comment, and a gnome working in a dwarf’s shop would likely be taken for a young dwarf, not a gnome at all. Arvid ate in the inn’s common room at least once a day, sitting alone. They left the inn and returned to it separately and never walked together in the streets.
At some point, Arvid knew, the Thieves’ Guild would find out that their journeymen had disappeared, but the amount of gold sent with them suggested that a long absence would not trigger suspicion. The longer they weren’t recognize
d, the more likely they would not be. A slightly thickset merchant in a green-and-brown-plaid hooded cloak stumping about on foot should not call up memories of the lean, black-clad, black-hatted man on horseback with pointed beard and mustache and a gnome companion at his side.
He still could not think of any way to take his revenge on the local Thieves’ Guild, secure the Marshal-General’s letter, find and obtain the necklace, and make his way back to Vérella.
On this snowy afternoon, Arvid came back to the inn before his usual time and, after taking a meal to Dattur in their room, settled into what was now his favorite table—against the wall, small, perfect for one person—with a pot of sib and a mug of soup to warm him while he waited for his supper.
The tables filled quickly; he was congratulating himself on his decision to come in early when the door opened again and a red-faced man he knew he’d seen before stumbled in. For a moment, he could not place him … but then remembered the man had been in Fox Company uniform with a captain’s knot on his shoulder. Now he was wearing civilian clothes and had a pack slung on one shoulder. Interesting.
The man demanded a room in the blurred voice of someone a little drunk or very upset. Arvid carefully did not stare but managed to notice every detail of the man’s appearance. He was not surprised that the innkeeper demanded prepayment for a room, or at the man’s attempt to bluster and use his position with “Fox Company up the hill there” to avoid payment, or that it didn’t work. The innkeeper was firm: he wasn’t in uniform and thus could not use his position as surety.
“But you saw me in here yesterday.”
“So I did, and you were in uniform. And you still owe me for that jug.”
“Damn you!” The man fumbled a coin out of his pouch and slapped it on the counter. “There’s your jug and deposit on a room, too.”
Echoes of Betrayal Page 17
