“I know I put it in here somewhere,” she pouted. “I always lose these things. Perhaps, you would just let me through?”
The guard shook his head and gave his partner a sly grin. “This one’ll need a pat down, I reckon. Jandan spy, no doubt.”
Minni laughed. “Have you ever seen a Jandan woman? No? That’s because they are all house bound sipping tea and praying to their one Lord almighty. What are you going to search me for anyway? Do you want to see the rest of my smalls? Is that it? You dirty little perversion. Save your mitts for the whores you can afford on your fancy streets of gold.”
Her vitriol roused a crowd of onlookers. The traders and farmers waited for the guard’s response, a few even heckled from the back. The guard was lost for words. Being sliced to ribbons by the sharp tongue of a woman wasn’t how he imagined the opportunistic search to turn out.
His commanding officer strode over. “Just let her through Guffer. Does it look like a kid could hide away in those saddlebags?” He clipped the back of Guffer’s head. “Hurry it up, twit!”
The crowd laughed and jeered at the guards.
“Thanks. Guffer was it? I’ll remember your kindness.”
“Right, well bugger off then. Smartarse Reik.” Guffer stepped away from the horse and let Minni pass.
Minni galloped to the trading post, hoping she had not missed her target. Under the rising heat of the morning, a collector of Nathis staggered on the side of the road, leaning on a crook. A stain streaked down his robes. Another pissed prentice no doubt, off drinking with the dead.
The trading post was as big as most of the hamlets skirting Calimska, the great City of Gold. It grew like the weeds after dragon season had passed, a sprawling mass of traders, merchants, and schemers. Minni preferred the chaos of the trading post to the regulation the guilds enforced in Calimska. She guessed it was set up outside the city for that very reason. It kept the rabble outside and the best shine safely inside the gates.
Minni took a side track to bypass the hectic trade yards, riding via the ale tents and food stalls, wary of cutpurses mingling in the traffic. On the eastern side of the makeshift trading town were the loading yards. Wagons and carts lined up on both sides of the road; one side for loading and leaving, the other unloading for trade.
Minni dismounted and tied her horse to a hitching post outside the noisiest ale tent. It sprawled across an empty yard next to the waiting wagons. The sides of the tent were torn and there had been little effort to patch it up, given the patrons wandered through the holes like doors. The roof was intact at least, and the cool breeze that flowed through the ragged holes was a pleasant change in the rising heat.
Porters, roadies and sellswords passed the time with dice and drink. Barrels of cheap ale created a wall behind the bar at the back of the tent. Minni approached the counter, ignoring the whistles and common calls from the roughnecks she passed. She caught the attention of a skinny girl who was listing jobs wanted and vacancies on a chalkboard nailed to the wall of barrels.
“Got one, or you lookin’?” The girl wiped her nose with the back of her hand, rubbing a stripe of chalk on her face.
“Looking.” Minni tapped the countertop with a tab of gold. “You still taking the shine?”
“Till season’s come.” The girl stepped away from the board and walked to the bar. “What favour’s it for, or are ya givin’ it away?”
“What’s the latest? Have the Jandan rollers come up?”
The girl slipped the tab off the bar and tucked it into her apron pocket along with the stick of chalk. “Two unloaded the mornin’ past with slaves I’d say. This mornin’ has barrels goin’ on. Don’t know what’s in em’ though. No chalk on the boards for either, there never is. They’ve always got their own crew; same in, same out.”
“Have they left yet?”
“Doubt it. That’s some of ‘em over there. There was another fella too; all hands and swill.”
“No loss then,” Minni gave the girl another tab of gold. “Keep them from thirst. And keep it to yourself.”
Minni left the bar and found a stool near the Jandans. Their language clashed against the soft notes of the lyrical Calimskan tongue. Though it was harsh, Jandan was easier for Minni than the complex tones of Calimskan. Jandan speech cut with precision and thrust with guttural contempt. It was a language struggling with righteousness and sin.
She listened in to their conversation; their companion was quite late. Minni waited while the Jandan caravan guards plied themselves with her complimentary ale. During the first round they eyed off each of the patrons in the tent and argued over who their benefactor might be. The second round had them toasting all of the patrons in the tent with good cheer. By the third round the conversation increased in candour and volume. Between the odd bad joke and self-aggrandising they debated the whereabouts of their missing comrade, supposing he was their mysterious benefactor supplying the drinks. His failure to show up for duty justified their excuses to remain and drink.
“What if he returns and we’re gone?” said one.
“No honour in that!” said another.
“Never leave a man behind!”
They could not reach any sensible consensus on the adventures of their comrade after his last drink with them the afternoon gone. Had he eloped with the girl he spoke of meeting? Or had he fallen to the dice? Perhaps he won so much shine he could stay in Calimska till the season passed?
Minni was quite amused by all of their stories. She knew his fate to be far less glamorous than their elaborate imaginings. The chalk girl was on the mark; the man was all hands and swill. If he had any manners to go with his looks, he could have enjoyed a late night and a longer life. But, as Minni found out many times before, Jandans had great difficulty affording much respect to the finer sex.
It was just past midday when the sergeant strode into the ale tent searching for his men. His face beaded with perspiration and his moustache was slick. The Jandan was a man of distinguished girth and had difficulty allowing for it in the fit of his uniform. His neck and head thrust out like an angry bull, red from the tightness of his collar and the temper of the moment.
“What by the charity of our Lord gives you reason to hold the shipment this long? Tegit? Come on man! Where is your dim wit scout?” The sergeant noted the men were dulled with drink. “Have any of you the ability for your mission?”
“We’re not all that drunk, sir. Just a lil jolly is all.” Tegit stood and saluted to prove his capability. The salute succeeded well enough, defying his inebriation. Sitting down proved harder than standing and he stumbled backwards over his stool.
“You’ve had half the morning to find him. Where in all the hells has he got to?”
The men looked to each other for support. None was sure what they thought had happened to him.
“Answer me!”
“Deserted, sir.” The guard who spoke did not try to stand, knowing that such an action would lead him to the ground beside Tegit. “We thought to wait a pint longer. In case ...”
“In case what? He came back with a trifle for you all?”
“No, sir.”
“Are any of you fit?” The sergeant sat down on a bench, exasperated.
Minni stepped forward and addressed the sergeant before they answered. The men were relieved by her distraction.
“Might I offer my services, sir?”
“You’re Jandan? No. Your accent ... Reik is it? What do you have to offer? Tell our fortune? I can guess that, lass.”
“Outrider, sir,” said Minni, seeking to appease his authority.
“Woman though. I don’t think you cou—”
“Better than this lot, sir. I’ve had an opportunity to overhear some of their talk. It wasn’t all that quiet. If you’re headed for Rum Hill I can scout for you. I know the trail. I have my own kit and mount.”
“You ready to ride?”
“Just have to unhitch my mare from out front.”
“What’s your price
sellsword? Will you take gold?”
“Ash on that. I’m no man’s fool. You’re headed the wrong way for shine to be any use. Eighty in shell ... plus rations.”
“Cowries?” The sergeant raised his hands to the heavens. “Sinner be damned! That’s more than this lot twice over.”
“And who do you imagine will ride well enough to earn a quarter their keep? You best be sorting your men out should you face a challenge on the trail.”
The sergeant’s eyes narrowed in frustration as he appraised his inebriated crew. “Right then, I’ve no shell here. You’ll be paid on delivery in Rum Hill. Done?”
“Done.”
Minni left the tent, took her horse over to the wagons and introduced herself to the drivers. They were Jandan conscripts near the end of their service. She noticed a cloaked figure in the shadows.
This had better not be another change. Why can’t they keep to the damn plan? She kept the figure in her peripheral vision and maintained the conversation, wondering who was thick enough to contact her this late in the operation. The figure crept towards the rear wagon.
The other wagon drivers gathered around Minni, asking inane questions and openly leering. She felt for their poor wives, suffering the mistakes of marrying such base creatures. Her sympathy was short lived; there was work to be done, and these dolts had their uses.
“Damn hot today, don’t you think?” Minni opened a button on her blouse and fanned herself. “They got you pushing loads till first shadow like last season? Caught a lot of good men out last year.”
The men took in the view and shared their thin wisdom on the difficulties of the job. With the guards distracted, Minni chanced a direct look at the cowled figure skulking closer to the wagons. It was the collector from earlier. He must have lost or traded his crook and was staggering rather than sneaking to the rear wagon. If the contact was injured, Minni would need a bigger distraction than her cleavage.
Minni tested the tension on the ropes of the lead wagon.
“Is this rigging secure enough for the road through the pass? I heard a trader going on about a downpour up there this morning. Might be a touch bumpy.”
The drivers bustled around the rigging, checking it over and arguing their opinion on its condition. They were soon split on how it should be altered to accommodate any damage to the road. Some thought it was fine, but others were sure they would need more rope to keep the barrels from jostling out.
Minni stood back, letting them argue while the collector stowed away in the rear wagon. There must be a message for her. She went to the rear canvas and secured it, ensuring no one else noticed. The sergeant emerged from the tent, his men falling in awkward step behind him. Complications of walking straight dissolved the heady residues of their earlier cheer, as did the sergeant’s continual reprimands.
“Who’s manning the rear wagon? Lord’s mercy! Do I have to be all over your tails every bloody time?” The sergeant strode to the milling drivers at the lead wagon. “Get to your damn stations. We’re rolling out. I want these wagons through the pass and safe by the North Eye before dark.”
The drivers climbed to their seats, cracked their whips and the wagons were away, kicking up dust as they went.
“Reik! Get on your nag and scout no more than one mile ahead. Report anything unusual. You’ll camp alone. I’ll not let these imbeciles be tempted by another witch.”
Minni let him go on, imagining her blade sinking through the sergeant’s swollen throat. She would let his words drown in the venom that pulsed in his heart. Jando, the City of Bones, would have no redemption from her.
Flesh to ash.
CHAPTER FOUR
Outrider
Minni paced her scouting just as the sergeant ordered. Better to keep him happy for the moment. She surveyed the road ahead of the wagons searching for signs of covered tracks or careless prints. Orc raiders would claim unwary caravans travelling through the pass. She doubted a hunting party would take on a heavily guarded convoy though; orcs were not as stupid as men made out.
Humans, on the other hand—they were brazen enough. The real danger were highwaymen. A couple of wagons in a train might be irresistible; the more guards, the more it was worth. Like Minni, they would love to have what the wagons carried.
The Council of Jando rattled sabres and the Guilds of Calimska soured tariffs. Tensions between the two powerful cities were building. Yet something else lurked beneath. Things were going on in the shadows and Minni had not been able to figure it out. Shipments of black powder had increased travelling to Rum Hill since the last moon. They knew the shipments sailed on to Jando. The rebels had eyes and ears all up the coast and nobody could tell Minni what Jando and Calimska were up to.
The road cut around the foothills up into the mountains. The miles peeled away into late afternoon with only a trickle of late season merchants heading for Calimska. In places the surface was washed out and pot holed, making her lie about the rainy weather seem true enough. The drivers were thankful for her earlier advice and encouraged her to ride with the wagons for some conversation—and likely, the fair view.
“Keep your eyes on the road fools,” shouted the guard sergeant, riding up from behind. “And you ... do your job, woman. Quit your seductions, get up that range and find out what’s ahead.”
Minni wished to kill him now. She could do it if she wanted to. Most of the guards were still pickled. The sergeant might be a problem, but if she picked them off from a distance it would not be too difficult. No, that would be foolish. Minni would wait; patience was how they would win this campaign, she would see the plan through.
The collector hiding away in the rear wagon was a concern. If he were a messenger for her, why hadn’t he contacted her earlier in Calimska? She was there long enough. She hoped the stowaway was just another youth running from an unsavoury apprenticeship. Whatever the reason, he’d be run through if he was found out; Jandan officers had no compassion. She’d see to him when they made camp. Food and water and some pointed conversation. He might have some useful information and could make an ideal recruit in any case.
They made good time through the pass, only at the cost of their draft horses. The poor animals’ condition declined with the increasing grade and the relentless pace set by the guard sergeant. He allowed no breaks to feed or water them, none even to rest their legs and catch a breath. Chilled wind from the northern peaks blew down the old road, sapping the warmth from the sun, dimming her mood even more.
At the head of the pass the road thinned and the mountains rose on either side like a great rocky fence. The Calimskan outpost was wedged in between. It guarded Stoneheart’s Bridge, the only safe access from the coast to Calimska and the many lands of the West. The bridge spanned the frigid waters of the ancient River Hiron, which melted off the Ice Peak Mountains far to the north, carving a treacherous course from stone to sea. The outpost tower huddled close to the mountainside as though it were afraid to look up to the peaks or down into the rapids far below. The natural geography of the mountain pass and the river gorge gave the outpost a perfect defensive position.
Minni stopped at the checkpoint with the wagons. Two pillars barred the way to the bridge, each made of interlocking stone blocks. The foundations of both were encircled with magical sigils, carved out of the stone. Calimskan soldiers gathered beside a brazier, playing cards on a small table.
The air around the pillars hardened with the proximity of the wagons and dancing arcs of energy began to play across the sigils. High on the tower battlements, a thick-faced man in brown woollen robes watched them. It was Stoneheart, the guardian of the pass.
The Jandans were tense. The wagon guard near Minni moved his hand to the crossbow slung at his side. Stoneheart paid the Jandans no mind; he was interested only in the wagons and the toll. His eyes tunnelled down, hesitating at the last wagon for just a moment.
The sergeant rode forward holding out a large purse to one of the soldiers by the brazier. The soldier checked its
contents and placed the bag on a set of scales. The toll was of sufficient weight and he nodded up to Stoneheart.
Without a word, the earth mage plunged his arms into the stone battlements. The ground vibrated and the two pillars blocking their way transformed. Each stone block tumbled apart then reassembled into two golems, both larger than a wagon on end. They shifted their immense forms to the side allowing the wagons to pass. The bridge across the river was made of stone like that of the golems. Large and small blocks fused together flawlessly in a complex pattern.
Minni led the wagon train across the span without delay. She hated crossing this damn bridge. Stoneheart’s will bore them safely, but at any moment could pummel them with stones, set the giant golems on them or drop them to their deaths. What if the old bastard was having a bad day? Stoneheart’s bridge stole all control from her and that was not a feeling she appreciated.
Riding down the range might have improved the horses’ spirits had the sergeant not pushed the wagon train so hard. He swore and cursed at his drivers, goading the men to whip their horses bloody to outrun the closing fingers of night. The Great Dividing Range behind them cast an early dusk across the woodland below and long shadows swallowed the road. The silhouette of the mountain peaks cut against the orange and peach sunset like black blades.
After a long scout down into the forest without any sign of bandits, Minni returned to the wagons.
“The bridge across Dayglow Creek is down,” she told the sergeant. “Might be best to make camp here and try a different way at first light.”
“Hells to that. There must be another way past.”
“There’s an old track that splits off before it. That’ll take us across upstream, but it might be harder for the wagons at night. I think we should stop and camp by the stream. Rest the horses.”
“Quit wasting time and earn your keep, witch. Scout upstream.”
“You might not make it through,” Minni baited.
Dragon Choir Page 3
