Keep on the Borderlands

by Ru Emerson - (ebook by Flandrel; Undead)

  If Jerdren had been excited earlier in the day, he was almost vibrating with energy now. But he merely glanced up and smiled a welcome before returning to his map. It was upside down from her viewpoint, but Eddis recognized the Keep and lands to the east, north, and south of it. The map properly flattened out, Jerdren jumped to his feet and began pouring a dark red wine into cups and handing them around.

  “To our new company,” he announced, “to Fortune’s Five—and to fame, wealth, and glory!”

  Eddis eyed Blorys sidelong. He cast up his eyes. “It’s all he’s told me since he got here.”

  “Said I’d wait until everyone was here, didn’t I?” Jerdren demanded. He was grinning broadly. “Ask the lady—we’re equals in this. Anyway, I went off to the barracks to find Mebros, but he’s normally on the inner gatehouse, they told me. None of us would normally be let inside those gates, of course, but I thought, why not see if he’ll come out? One of the guards sent word in for me, and while I waited, he and I talked—he’d heard about our ambush this morning, and he told me a tally sheet went up in the mess hall late today. Said it asked for volunteers—trackers and hunters, men who know the woods east of the Keep.

  “Mebros wasn’t to be found, but another guardsman came out with word that some parchment pusher wanted to talk to me if I was the Jerdren who came in this morning with hide merchant Lhodis.”

  Jerdren’s eyebrows went up. “You wouldn’t believe the size of that end of the Keep. Stone training grounds for two full companies to drill at the same time—not that there’s so many men, these days. Terraced crop beds on all sides, up against the walls so’s a company can still drill there, and they can eat once they’re through drilling. Seems to me there’s a clever man in charge here. Practical.

  “Left alone, I’d’ve got lost at once inside the north towers, but my guide led me up a flight of stairs and inside a plain stone chamber, talking to a tall, pale fellow named Hollis. ‘Undersecretary to Castellan Ferec,’ he said. He knew about our set-to out on the road and said Ferec wanted to thank us himself. There’s a banquet tomorrow night, Blor, and we’re invited—us and our men.”

  “Hmmm. That might mean the castellan wants to look us over, Brother. Talk to us, see if we might be useful to him. They say it’s how he does things.”

  “Could be. Thing is,” Jerdren leaned forward to plant his elbows on the map, “I ran across Odis—that’s one of the men I hired for this journey, Eddis—on my way to the barracks, early on. He and his mates already have a return job, and they’re heading out tomorrow. Wanted to know if I’d give ’em good recommendation to this ore merchant who’s eager to get back north with his pouch of gold. Well, I did that, and I also told Odis about this raid. He just laughed! Said the main reason they signed on with us was hopes of a chance like the ore merchant. ‘Why give over an easy job with a filled purse at the end,’ he said, ‘in exchange for real danger and crawling through the woods?’

  “Anyway, when this Hollis said we were all invited, I thought, say those bandits had set their ambush late, rather than early, then Eddis would’ve taken ’em out just like we did, right Eddis? And we’re equals in this, right?”

  Eddis stared at him. “Jerdren, tell me you didn’t try to wangle us an invitation to a formal banquet!”

  He smiled cheerfully. “I didn’t just try—I got it! All five of us, tomorrow at second bell after sunset.”

  Eddis broke the silence. “Jerdren, I can’t eat at a lord’s table. I’m village!”

  “So?” he asked. “We’re village, and we left that for the army. But this castellan’s no lord! He was a soldier left in charge here when the old lord went north with most of his army. When none of ’em came back, he stayed on to keep things together, that’s all. Man like that won’t care how you eat your soup. Besides, you wanted to know how much truth there is to Meb’s rumor, and who’d answer that better for you than the man in charge?”

  Eddis shook her head in disbelief. Behind her, the room was filling up, and the babble of voices was growing louder by the moment. M’Baddah said something quietly to M’Whan, who went off through the crowd and came back some moments later followed by one of the taverner’s daughters—a dark-haired, slender lass in bright blue, who smiled at everyone and joshed with most, expertly balancing a tray piled high with bowls of stew and chunks of bread.

  Eddis sniffed the fragrant steam cautiously. Stew with no onion—they remembered. She tore her bread into thick strips and dipped it into the rich broth.

  “Eddis? You can do this, right?” Jerdren looked rather anxious.

  She chewed bread, swallowed. Finally shrugged.

  “The banquet, you mean? I can—” She fell forward as someone slammed into her left shoulder.

  A long-fingered hand dragged her back upright, and a reedy voice mumbled apologetically. Eddis was turning toward the voice when her belt shifted. My purse! She spun around the other way and snatched at the dark-haired, skinny fellow backing away from her. He evaded the grasp but went sprawling as M’Baddah stuck out a leg. Eddis was off her stool and had him by two handfuls of roughspun shirt before he could scramble up. He twisted in her grip but subsided when she transferred one hand to his hair.

  “All right,” she snapped, “where is it?”

  “Where’s what?” The face was a boy’s, despite a thin smear of moustache on his upper lip and a skinny tad of beard. His eyes were very wide.

  “The purse you just cut from my belt,” Eddis hissed.

  “Purse? Cut? I lost my balance, woman, and fell into you. I said I was sorry, didn’t I?”

  “Fine,” she said. “Apology accepted, once you hand over that purse!” He twisted suddenly, freed himself from her grasp, and dove under the nearest trestle. Merchants and their women scattered. Eddis swore under her breath and went after him.

  She flailed out and caught hold of a boot. The boy yelled as she edged forward, ready to wrap her arms around his leg, but he kicked hard, hitting her shoulder, and the boot came off in her hand. It was thin and old and smelled awful. Eddis tossed it aside and dragged herself grimly into the open and partway up.

  The boy was two trestles away now, dodging through startled patrons, forcing his way past serving girls toward the door. A tray of bread went flying. Eddis scrambled onto the nearest trestle, jumped from it to the next one, scattering people and cups in all directions. Another jump. The thief was about to dive under one last trestle and gain the way out when she threw herself at him, slamming him to the floor.

  He was yelling now, crying out for help as she wrapped one hand in his hair and yanked.

  “Where is it?” She had to yell just to be heard. “I won’t ask again, boy!”

  The room went quiet around them, all at once, and the boy’s eyes moved rapidly, taking in his surroundings. Suddenly he yelled, “You’re hurting me, owwww! Let go!” Startled, Eddis nearly loosed her grip, but M’Baddah had come up and caught his arm. “What’re you doing, woman, are you mad? I was just—I was just trying to get past your table, minding my own business and you—owwww! My hair, you’ll pulling it out!”

  “Not like I will if you don’t give me back my purse,” Eddis snarled. She was aware of staring patrons all around them.

  M’Whan pushed his way through the crowd. “Eddis, I can see two guardsmen coming this way!”

  “Good,” she said.

  “Yeah, good!” the youth said virtuously. “And when they search me and don’t find anything, you’ll be sorry you hurt me!”

  “I found it,” Blorys said as he and Jerdren came up. “I saw him toss something under our table when M’Baddah tripped him.” He held up a small, thin-bladed knife and a plain leather pouch.

  “That’s a lie,” the youth said. “You can’t prove those things are mine.”

  “You’re right. That purse isn’t yours,” Eddis glanced at the two solid men in guard’s colors who stood quietly next to her and the youth.

  At a gesture from one, M’Baddah released his hold an
d stepped back.

  “Sir,” she told the guard, her eyes still on the boy, “the purse is mine. I can tell you exactly what’s in it, to the last coin. Also, there’s a red fletch I saved from an arrow—the one I used to kill my first deer.” She waited while one of the guards took the bag, fingered its cut strings and poured the contents into one hand. His companion took the knife, peered at it closely. Eddis kept her two-handed grip on the thief. His muscles were taut, ready to spring if she relaxed her attention.

  A low buzz of conversation broke out around them once more. People were standing and staring. The guard slowly pushed the coins around on his hand, then fished out a small strip of red feathers—frayed and faded from so many years in the pouch. He snugged down what was left of the cut strings then handed it to Eddis, who freed a hand to stuff the little bundle down the front of her shirt. She stepped aside as the soldiers took charge.

  “What’s this about, boy?” the guard asked, mildly enough.

  The youth shook his head. “How should I know? I was just going to get a fresh mug of ale, and she jumped me for no reason. Maybe you should search her, see if she’s got anything of mine.” He patted a cloth bag hanging from his belt and suddenly looked worried. “Maybe you should just hold onto her while I make sure my coins aren’t missing. I had four silver pence when I came in, and I’m not feeling anything there!”

  “Oh, is that so, Kadymus?” The taverner came out of the crowd. “Seems to me a lot of us have wondered how a mere ’prentice always has coin for beer and ale—and how it seems folk find themselves short at times you’ve been about.” He looked at the larger of the two guards. “Sergeant Evoe,” he said formally, “this lady here’s named Eddis. She guards caravans, comes to the Keep often, and always visits my tavern. I’ve never had a spot of trouble from her. And that little knife belongs to Kadymus, I’ve seen him use it.”

  Kadymus glared at the taverner, but before he could say anything, Evoe grabbed his near arm, the second guard grabbed the other, and they hustled the skinny cutpurse away. The taverner watched them go, and as the crowd began to break up, he took Eddis’ hand in both his.

  “My thanks for catching him. I’ve had my suspicions for a time, but I’m a busy man, and he’s that quick.” .

  “I noticed,” Eddis said dryly. “More fool I for wearing my purse openly on my belt like that.”

  “This is a lawful place,” the taverner replied sternly. “None of my customers should have to worry for where a purse hangs in here. Your meal and your drink’s on me tonight, Eddis,” he added, and strode off to his counter.

  “Nice going,” Jerdren said admiringly. “I didn’t realize you were that fast!”

  Eddis shook her head. “I was angry. Still, if I’d been wrong about him…”

  “Well, you weren’t,” he replied, “so why worry about it?” He led the way back to their table.

  It took time, and Eddis was red faced by the time she resumed her stool. It seemed everyone in the tavern wanted to grip her hand and thank her. Jerdren grinned as he settled over the map once more.

  “Funny, though,” said Jerdren, “you starting the brawl, and here in the Keep of all places!”

  Eddis cast up her eyes.

  “Well, I laughed, didn’t I, Blor? But you didn’t answer me. You can deal with this dinner tomorrow night—right?”

  She groaned as she resumed her seat. “If they don’t have me in the cell next to that nasty little thief for starting a brawl. Yeah, Jerdren. I can do this.”

  Sundown the next evening found the party being escorted by half a dozen polite guards in dress tunics past the inner gates and across the inner bailey. Eddis eyed the stone bastion with trepidation. The place was intimidating with its narrow windows and high walls, and armed guards seemed to be everywhere. Two flanked the doors. What if they believed that gangly young cutpurse after all—and I’m about to be arrested for brawling in public? She tried to assure herself that she’d have been led away from the tavern at once. M’Baddah touched her arm and gave her a reassuring smile. She drew a deep breath, smiled back, and tried to relax.

  She’d never before taken a meal with people of rank. So we all don our breeches a leg at a time, she thought. Still, some of us pull on roughspun, and others are helped into silk.

  They waited outside the great doors while the leader of their escort spoke quietly to one of the guards. The man nodded gravely and turned to pull the door open. It was thick as Eddis’ fist and appeared to be solid iron, but it was so well balanced that it took only one man to move it, and it swung silently and easily. They entered a vast, cool chamber, and the door closed after them.

  “Wager those two men’ll know each of us again,” Jerdren muttered.

  The sound echoed. Blorys tapped his brothers arm and minutely shook his head.

  Eddis looked around curiously. The room was large and empty, and shadow hid the far walls. A few candles in tall sconces lit the way between the outer doors and another heavy door straight ahead. Their boot heels clicked on polished slate, and the sound echoed. It was cavernlike, she thought. Impersonal.

  But the next door opened into a brightly lit hallway, its floor a warm, polished oak, the walls hung here and there with blue and yellow banners. Their guide passed two closed doors along the passage and stopped to indicate an open room dominated by a table covered in books and scrolls. Other than a grate in one wall and a door on the far side of the chamber, there seemed to be no other furnishings. A short, elderly man in green robes came from behind the table and smiled at them, dismissing the guards with a gesture.

  “I am Ogric, Castellan Ferec’s master of table, at your service,” he said. “In a moment, I will bring you to the banquet hall. We maintain little protocol here. When the castellan enters, he asks that no one stand or bow, and you may eat and drink as soon as he gives you greeting.” He beckoned them to follow and led them across the chamber into the room beyond.

  This room was enormous, clearly meant for feasting. A wide trestle ran the length of the room, with three shorter, narrower tables butted against it. Whitewashed walls were hung with pale blue or yellow banners, and a length of cloth in the same colors dipped from the ceiling. Several men already sat at the main table, though the central three chairs at the head were still unoccupied. At the other tables, Eddis saw everything from graybeards in soldiers tunics to men and women she recognized from the market and the shops. Ogric led them to places at the middle table, closest to the long trestle and opposite the empty chairs. Eddis let M’Baddah hand her into the first of those before settling next to her, his son at his left elbow. Jerdren was across from her, Blor next to him. The rest of this table was mostly taken up by military-looking men, most of whom were curiously eyeing the newcomers. She glanced at Jerdren, who grinned back.

  Servants came in to distribute bowls of bread. Men in dark tunics followed, ladling wine into cups. Other servants followed, pouring soup and setting out small pots of dried herbs for seasoning the steaming broth. It smelled wonderful, Eddis thought.

  A sharp, echoing rap brought attention to the long trestle. Ogric tapped his staff on the floor a second time. “Castellan Ferec,” he announced, and inclined his head as a tall, black-haired and black-bearded man in plain blue tunic and breeches strode into the room followed by two older men who also wore unfigured blue.

  Eddis glanced across the table as Jerdren gasped.

  “By my grandsire’s beard,” he whispered. “That’s the man who called himself Hollis!”

  Blorys tugged at his brother’s sleeve. “The castellan? He’s the man you talked to yesterday, the clerk?”

  “I thought he was a clerk,” Jerdren replied. “I’m just trying to recall what I said to him.” He fell silent as the three men stood at the center of the trestle.

  Ferec waited for the low murmur of conversation to die away. “Guests, friends, protectors, and companions,” he said warmly, “eat and drink with me.” He smiled at the outsiders as he and his men took their seats.
“We dine first here in the Keep and turn to business later.”

  Once the meal began, a low murmur of conversation filled the chamber. The castellan’s attention had been claimed by the man on his right. Eddis was talking to M’Baddah. Blorys got Jerdren’s attention again.

  “You remember what you said to him?” he asked in a noncarrying voice.

  The older man shrugged. “Nothing rude,” he replied in kind. “I was hoping to learn about the sortie against the bandits and put in a good word for us, remember? Odd, though. I’ve heard of men in power doing that kind of thing—checking men and stories for themselves, rather than waiting for a clerk’s report. Never expected to be taken in that way myself.”

  “He’s said to be a good judge of character, Jers.”

  Jerdren picked up his soup and drank. “Good stuff. I hope so, Blor. I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

  Across from him, Eddis was nibbling bread she’d dipped in her broth.

  “Gods,” he murmured. “Doesn’t that woman ever eat? All I’ve seen her do is pick at food!”

  Blorys nudged him in the ribs with a hard elbow. “Be quiet, Brother, she’ll hear you!”

  I heard that, Eddis thought, but decided to ignore him.

  Soup cups were taken away, and platters of sliced meat and bowls of dripping juices followed. Feric spoke quietly with the men on either side of him and let his guests alone to eat and drink.

  Halfway through the final course—baked, sweetened apples filled with cream—the man nearest M’Whan began talking to him, too quietly for Jerdren to make out what was going on. Then the fellow beyond Blor engaged his brother in conversation. Some moments later, both Keep men rose and went around to the head table, where they spoke at length with Ferec, who set aside his cup to listen gravely. Jerdren forced himself to continue eating and drinking.