Fared looked uphill at the abandoned farmhouse, all but tumbling down. It must have been empty for at least a quarter of a century. Nobody would return for this; at least, not tonight.
He held one of the coins up, but the markings meant nothing to him.
"Not from the Empire," said Samrita, appearing beside him.
Some of the men looked around; they had not heard or seen her approach.
"They will be worth something," continued the gwerin, inspecting one of the silver coins.
"Should buy us some supplies, Captain?" Leyen grinned up at his commander.
"All donations gratefully received," said Fared.
The men laughed.
***
As the dark deepened, Deren took his turn at Knife In. He exchanged a quick look with his wife, Kwenby, before hefting the knife. His first throw took the piece of wood cleanly in the middle, to applause.
Crin and Gorst took their turns, but Crin missed. Down to him and Gorst. Again the piece of wood sailed upward and again Gorst's knife skewered it.
"Getting too dark to see," said Deren.
"If you can't see, you can always resign. Coming second ain't bad." Gorst showed his teeth in a mirthless grin.
Deren looked at the thrower. "Send it up," he said. He held his knife, ready to throw.
The wood was dutifully sent into the sky once again and Deren threw his knife and cursed as it missed. Another knife sailed through the darkness and skewered the wood.
"Who the...?" The men turned.
Kwenby, dark eyes concerned, stared into the darkness.
Deren recognized the knife that now stuck out of the wood. Grinning, he stared into the darkness.
"Peytor," he called. "You may as well show yourself. I know it's you."
Dressed no different than before, the young man strolled arrogantly towards the men. He grinned at Gorst humorlessly. "Looks like you got new competition," he said.
Deren interrupted. "How did you get so close without the scouts seeing you?"
Peytor grinned and his brown eyes showed genuine amusement. "They were busy with that box you dug out the ground. Just picked my moment and strolled in."
Deren sucked at his teeth as he pulled the boy's knife free. "You and me had better go and see the boss," he said.
Peytor's smile widened. "Sure. Just let me and your friend finish this game first."
***
Chapter 6
Prisoner
Belaika stared from between the wooden uprights of his cage.
It took Karlon – the camp's carpenter – two days to make the cage and when complete, they no longer tethered Belaika like a dumb animal at night. That was the only advantage.
The cage enabled soldiers to watch him continuously, afforded him no privacy whatsoever and offered no protection from the elements.
For those previous days, Belaika traveled strapped like a sack to a horse. Despite the discomfort of having his insides bounced about, it did give his injured leg time to recover. Not that he tried to show off the improvement; he might manage to wrangle some privilege if his enemy believed him to be hurt.
But he could not fool everybody. On his first night of captivity, the army's physician, Velsen, inspected his leg. On the second night, he was demoted in importance to the farrier's attentions. The third night, both men came.
Hedron the farrier inspected him first. Belaika obediently bent his leg this way and that, sometimes resisting as he tried to make his injury look worse.
Hedron sniffed. "I know when you're holding back, boy," he said. "Just by watching your muscles work. Now do it again."
Belaika warily eyed the man's wide shoulders. Hedron could be surprisingly light and quick on his feet for his bulk, experienced at dodging warhorses who wanted to kick.
Hedron pushed his fingers into the scout's muscled thigh until the sylph squeaked in pain.
"A good inca further than two nights ago," said the farrier. "Stop whinging, boy."
Hedron turned to Velsen. "Up to you, sir, but this is only badly bruised. Exercise is what's needed now."
Velsen made his own inspection, which was at least painless. Belaika hoped for another day's riding.
The physician finally sat back. "I concur. He is fit to walk." Velsen looked directly at the sylph and the man's gray eyes held a hint of laughter. "Looks like you're getting some exercise tomorrow."
After eating a quick breakfast, a cavalry sergeant tied Belaika's hands with one end of a tether, while soldiers hoisted the sylph's new cage onto a wagon bed. The speed at which Mirrin's soldiers could rig up a wooden crane and disassemble it again impressed the captive.
The cavalry sergeant's blue eyes were cold as he looked at the prisoner. "I'm Sergeant Somersen," he introduced himself. "Any trouble and I'll tie this around your neck instead of your wrists. Understand?"
Belaika gave the man a level look, although his earpoints betrayed his fear by lying back in his hair.
Somersen lifted the free end of the tether as if to lash the sylph with it. "When I question, you answer, boy."
"I understand," said Belaika, quickly.
Somersen nodded and turned away to secure the other end of Belaika's tether to his saddle. He paused at his stirrup. "You fall, you get dragged," he said. Once mounted, he didn't look back at the sylph once.
The scout wondered if Sergeant Somersen had something against all sylphs, or whether he just disliked Belaika. Certain Somersen meant what he said about dragging, he determined not to fall.
Belaika limped along as the army began to move. No matter how painful at first, he resisted crying out, determined to give Somersen and his ilk no pleasure from his discomfort. However, the pain in his leg soon settled to a dull throb and the sylph reluctantly agreed that Hedron had a point about the exercise.
And he quickly realized something else. Walking would help keep him fit, for when the time came to escape. His leg must first get better, else he would not get very far.
He walked on, determined to show no weakness. As he walked, some of the men came within earshot.
"I'm surprised we caught one," said one of Mirrin's lieutenants, Captain Jediyah.
The man riding alongside him shrugged. "Pure luck, sir," he said. "These sylphs know the work well, I'd say."
Belaika could not help but stiffen with pride.
"Speak with him when we rest again," continued Jediyah. "Our lads could try that camouflage and see how they go."
"Will do," said the second man.
Belaika smiled to himself. It seemed he had some respect among these men. But that did not necessarily mean they liked him, for much of what he overheard was far less pleasant.
"They'll send him to Eldova and put him on display," said a footsoldier, whose group strayed close to the captive.
"No chance, Jaegar," retorted Camanda, the man who had captured Belaika. "He's ransom. Half to the coffers, rest split 'tween me and the Boss. He's Marcus Vintner's sylph."
"Nah, I reckon once the witch has got her answers, they'll slit his throat and bury him in the latrines," said a third man.
"No Burred," continued Jaegar, "they'll give him to Hingast to hunt down before they waste him like that."
Belaika turned his head to stare at the three men. "Do you not know Hingast is dead?" he demanded.
The men stared in surprise before all three burst out laughing.
"Whatever," said Burred, before the three men moved away.
Somersen looked over his shoulder at the sylph. "Button it," he snapped. "You talk like that again and you'll be in for it."
Belaika buttoned it and walked – limped – on in silence.
At the next rest stop, the Sergeant of Scouts crouched beside him.
"I'm Nalred," he said.
"Belaika," replied the sylph.
"I know."
This man had been speaking about him earlier with Captain Jediyah and Belaika remained wary. He wanted to give nothing away to these people.
"I'm interested in your paint," continued Nalred.
Belaika shrugged and looked away. He wished he could clean his camouflage off, so he would at least look like an ordinary sylph. And perhaps curious humans would then leave him alone.
"I can see how the colors help you to blend in," said the human, "but why black? Are all sylphs painted the same, or does the color scheme vary?"
Belaika said nothing.
"Look, I know not everyone treats you as well as they should, but I am not your enemy."
Belaika arched an eyebrow and his earpoints went upright. "Everybody here is my enemy," he replied.
Nalred laughed. "Our commanders are enemies," he corrected, "and of course we fight on opposite sides, but we are not personal enemies." He forced his voice lower. "Not like Somersen, who would love to leave you somewhere with your throat cut."
"I do not respond well to threats." Belaika's voice was calm. "Ask Nicolfer." He drew his knees under his chin and wrapped his arms around them. He stared vacantly and waited for Nalred to leave.
Belaika did not care one way or the other what the soldiers thought of him, but the sylphs were a different matter. Most of them regarded him with a mix of loathing and fear. Earpoints wilted whenever sylph eyes turned in his direction and most of them avoided him. Their tacit rejection cut deep.
There were three exceptions. Those he named Choca, Insult and Interrogation.
***
Choca watched him every night, but she came nowhere near until after they put him in the cage for the first time. But then...
"Have a care, small one," said the guard. "I want no trouble with your owner."
Belaika sat up.
"It is all right, Girran. Enya knows I am here."
Girran turned his back. "Suit yourself."
Belaika sat crosslegged on the ground and rested his hands on his knees. He looked into the faintly glowing eyes of Shashi-y-Mirrin.
"How is your leg?" asked Shashi.
Belaika gave her a slow blink. Not the expected question. "Sore," he replied.
"I am pleased it is not broken."
Belaika shrugged. Tempting to lie and tell her that his leg had not yet recovered, but this conflicted with his decision to say nothing to the enemy.
"Take this, before it melts."
Another slow blink as Shashi pushed a scrap of something dark through the bars. Principle was forgotten as he leaned forward, all but snatched the choca from her and swallowed it, before she could change her mind.
If Belaika's silence bothered Shashi, nothing showed. "You should know that enya thinks Nicolfer-ya is wrong in the way she treats you."
Belaika shrugged. He held the other sylph's gaze before hers flickered away. Nothing to read into that: few infertiles could hold a breeder's gaze for long.
"You should not be here," she continued. "It is wrong."
"Then let me go."
Shashi – Choca – blinked at his words. "I cannot." She pushed a hand through the cage and patted his shoulder awkwardly. "Sorry."
Then she was gone.
***
Insult was another infertile and a lot less friendly than Choca.
She also watched Belaika from a distance until the night he was caged. Insult could – and did – hold his gaze. She kept her distance while Choca spoke with him, but he felt her angry gaze even from the shadows.
When Choca left, Insult replaced her, staring at him through the bars of his cage in silent anger. Her stare never flickered aside, never dropped. As if she felt she held the moral high ground. As if she might be the senior sylph.
Girran grumbled something about visitors not being allowed, but both sylphs ignored him and he eventually turned his back again, pretending he was alone with the captive.
Insult stared silently at Belaika.
Irritated, he stared back.
They locked gazes for a few moments.
"Why do you look at me like that?" he finally asked.
"I am Gajaran-y-Delwin," she replied.
"I am Belaika." Were all Eldovan sylphs strange?
"Enya was killed last year. By the men you work for."
"Men die in wars, but I am –"
"If not for you scouts, he may still be alive," she snarled. A tear leaked from one eye. "You do what no sylph should. You direct men to death. Your enemies, your friends. Maybe even sylphs. You are an aberration, a devil. Evil."
Belaika's mouth dropped open. "We did not kill him."
"You may as well have! Scouts betrayed his position and men killed him."
"He would have killed other men," protested Belaika. "Soldiers are there to kill the enemy."
Gajaran fought for control. "Sylphs are not soldiers," she continued. "You are unfit to be a sylph. You have blood on your hands. All of you! Dsacul!" Her voice began to rise. "Murderer! Killer!"
"Whoa, that's enough!" Unnoticed by both sylphs, Girran had come around and now intervened, half dragging Gajaran – Insult – away. "You'll wake the camp with this carry on. Get to your bed, or I'll speak with Quartermaster Jurabim."
Belaika watched her leave, shock painting his face.
***
The third regular sylph visitor was Interrogation.
She came every night after his capture, except the first night Belaika slept in his cage. As she had missed one, she came the very next night, carrying her sheets of music paper. Of the three sylph visitors, only she came to him against her will.
And she did not come alone. Nicolfer always accompanied her and, though Haema did not interrogate him, her appearance always heralded intense questioning.
Nicolfer terrified him.
Insult's behavior saddened him, but he understood it. At least it was emotion. The soldiers' sometimes embarrassed him when they elevated him to something he neither was nor deserved to be. Other times they frightened him, like when he overheard those who wanted to see him dead. But at least it was emotion.
Nicolfer showed nothing. She was usually cold toward him, though if she scored a painful point she took great pleasure from his anguish, despite claiming to hate seeing sylphs in pain.
But the sylph he'd nicknamed Interrogation confused him. From the first whistle Nicolfer had read from the music paper, Belaika knew Haema confused him. That whistle had been jumbled beyond recognition. The sylph knew enough about musical notation for Nicolfer to read it, yet she managed to mangle the whistles into something different.
Despite his resistance, Nicolfer never gave up.
The second night in his cage, Belaika sat on his heels and waited. Any of the three sylphs could appear at any time. Would it be Interrogation, Choca or Insult? His spirits fell when he spotted Nicolfer with Haema trailing behind with her sheets of music paper. Interrogation.
Myrad was the guard on duty tonight. He opened the cage to let Nicolfer and Haema inside, the only ones ever allowed in, and left the gate open. Myrad gave Nicolfer a neutral look and a large hand gripped Haema's shoulder for a reassuring squeeze. Belaika assumed it was reassuring.
The divisions and petty dislikes in any camp never ceased to amaze him. Different people working towards the same end, and yet detesting each other.
Nobody at all liked Nicolfer.
She slipped a choke chain around his neck and gripped the other end. She used the chain to pull him forward until satisfied she had made him compliant. She nodded.
Belaika did not wait for the nod, but sat on the ground the moment Nicolfer stopped pulling on the chain. His earpoints slanted backwards in his short hair and he had no doubt that wariness showed in his wide silver-gray eyes. This woman had threatened to harm his family.
Haema gave what he thought might be a sympathetic look.
He wondered which tactic his interrogator would employ tonight. Was it possible that, because she had not come last night, she had used her power to harm his family instead? He had not suffered any violence yet, but what if she had harmed his loved ones?
Surely Nicolfer would gloat if she had.
"Before we begin, I warn you that, if you fail to cooperate, your water ration will be withheld tomorrow and the day after. If you are a good boy, you will be rewarded." Nicolfer smiled, but that smile did not reach her jet eyes. Her smiles never did. Coldness, her only emotion. "Thirst may help you decide."
Belaika almost told her that if he was a good boy, he would not betray his owner and colleagues. He said nothing; taunting her might be dangerous and the way she might react terrified him.
"Well?"
Belaika stared at her and remained silent.
"As you wish."
A small victory, but the scout let nothing show on his face.
Nicolfer turned to Haema. "Give me that sheet," she commanded.
Haema nodded and passed one of the music sheets across.
Nicolfer turned back to Belaika. "Tell me what this means." She puckered her lips and began to whistle.
***
He had expected to see plenty of Sandev, but she seemed the least anxious to associate with him. Once he had got over the initial feelings of rejection from the one person he felt ought to be his friend, Belaika realized Sandev's way might be for the best. If Nicolfer even suspected they were collaborating, the Father alone knew what she might do.
Then again, Sandev would have her own plans and her own goals. Helping him might not feature in those plans at all.
It was unpleasant to feel so insignificant.
***
Sandev hoped nobody noticed what she was up to. Out of the way with Belaika, Nicolfer had no time for her at the moment. The orphaned sylphs were busy with evening tasks. Soldiers and camp followers stayed away from her. The other camp sylphs rarely tried to overcome their fear of her power. They never came near her if they could find something else to do.
She felt carefully around her block and hoped to sense a surge of power at any moment. A surge that would prove the Gift flowed freely again. But things made with sorcery were crafted differently from those made from the Gift. Hard to believe sometimes that the Gifted and sorcerers used the same power.
She kept well away from everybody else; she wanted to be sure her sylph friends wouldn't sense what she was doing. They might be frightened or insulted that she used her power around them. No sylph ever understood, not even her own.
She felt guilty leaving Belaika to his fate, but the boy held up well against Nicolfer. Few humans could stand up to her, never mind sylphs. She admired his courage, but he must be terrified underneath that calm exterior.
But sylphs were always more courageous than most people allowed. Everybody believed the creatures frightened easily, so whenever a sylph displayed bravery, humans were always surprised. She wouldn't put it past the blue-skinned creatures to deliberately hide such virtues from general inspection.
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