by RW Krpoun
“Not to mention giving us time for a bit of sight-seeing,” Bridget tidily wiped her mouth. “A walk-through of the Inner Keep will serve us good stead when the dance begins.”
“Fine; we’ll go tomorrow night, Ludio or no Ludio,” the Captain decided. “That’ll give us time for preparation and planning.”
“A great deal rests upon how soon Era Ludio contacts us,” Elonia observed. “Both for himself, and for us. His involvement would be very useful.”
“This is true,” the Dwarf nodded. “Useful, but not essential. One way or another, we’ll call the tune and choose the dance.”
“That’s the way to do it,” Arian grinned, selecting another chop. “And we’re just the band to make the music memorable.”
Kustar Pravas glowered at the papers before her; that her career had come to this was intolerable, she could bear it no more. Just over four months had passed since she had escaped from her station in the ruins of Beydar's Way, but it seemed a lifetime. She hadn't expected to be greeted like a long-lost heir when she had reached Alantarn, but the harshness of her master's response was worse than she would have expected. The loss of her staff and the station had counted for little to them, but for allowing her ordinary files to fall intact into enemy hands had cost her a one grade reduction in rank and a month's punishment duty posing as one of the slave concubines provided to visiting merchants.
The memory of her humiliation, barely four weeks ended, still rankled; she had always been a free-born Nepas, academy trained and ambitious. To have been forced to simper about in scanty clothing as a plaything for any merchant or merchant’s guard who found her attractive was absolutely intolerable. To add professional insult to personal injury, she hadn’t even been able to learn anything useful for her masters.
Now she was assigned to the security offices for Alantarn itself, based in the Inner Keep, charged with monitoring the security arrangements for outsiders entering and departing the Keep, a thankless, repetitive task that would provide plenty of opportunities for taking blame, and very few for glory or advancement.
In the four weeks she had held her position she had catalogued over seventy violations, large and small, of what amounted to very workable and effective security measures. She had brought them before her supervisor, pointing out that these were tallied during her short tenure while the traffic with the outside was fading with the shortening days and cooler weather; when he had ignored them she had gone over his head and reported the matter to the officer in charge of security who informed her that should she cause too many problems her next assignment would be leading a Remur troop in the Inner Line. She was beginning to believe that that assignment wouldn't be as bad as shuffling paper and waiting to take the blame for an inevitable failure of the security precautions.
This report in front of her was the final straw, she felt. Every person or group that passed through the Road-forts and Gates was listed in both a ledger at the point of passage and in a report that was forwarded at the close of the day to the security offices, who then reviewed them the next day. The reviewing of these reports was one of her assignments. No small addition to her anger was the fact that she had four slave-clerks to aid her with this task when not one could be spared for the vital duties of her old field station.
But the report in front of her concerned a group of Golden Serpent traders who had been allowed access to the Inner Keep on the strength of a letter issued by Era Ludio. Allowed straight through without the letter being approved by the security office despite the fact that this was an unknown Den who had never received any clearance whatsoever, and despite the regulations that clearly stated that no trader would allowed into the Inner Keep until they had been vetted by Pargaie and had completed at least one trade mission with the fortress. They would be letting wandering minstrels in next! What was the point in security if anyone could write a letter granting access to one and all? They took her out of the field, broke her in rank and forced humiliations upon her for something not her own fault, ignored her when she did her duty and reported dangerous weaknesses in the security system, and now this. It was too much.
She sat and stared at the smooth, freshly waxed surface of her desk. She was a trained, experienced intelligence officer, and a good one; if they wouldn't let her serve in that capacity, she would serve in the army, or even desert and find someone who would let her use her talents as they should be used. Other Nepas had done so, although not from the Pargaie. From the army it would be possible, though.
The dissatisfaction hardened into decision, and the decision into action. Drawing forth a sheet of vellum she uncapped her inkwell and chose a new quill. A report of the problems and dangers sent directly to the Hold-Mistress would either get her recognition or assignment to the army, and either would be better than rotting here awaiting blame for other's violations.
She composed her thoughts and planned her phrases; nodding, she dipped the quill into the ink and began.
For the ‘Den’ it had been a busy and fruitful day. Maxmillian had bartered away their cargo with various Nepas traders, acquiring goods and materials for sale elsewhere, mostly quality weapons forged by Black Dwarves. It was profitable-their wagons were fully loaded with trade goods and fresh grain for a return trip the oxen would not be making, and they were paid sixty Imperial Marks as well; the gold was distributed amongst the Badgers so it would not be left behind.
The andern trading was handled by a Direthrell who drove a hard bargain, but two pounds of black, one of crimson, and two each of gray, brown, puce, and ocher commanded a stiff price no matter how accomplished a haggler the Dark Threll proved to be. The Badgers received twenty Storms of Disruption, a brass torc that afforded a wearer the same protection of a full-face helm, a pound of enchanted wax that, when applied to gloves and boots, allowed the wearer to climb sheer surfaces like a spider, and a quantity of gems worth around a thousand gold Marks.
The torc was awarded to Janna by right of seniority, and the gems distributed amongst the Badgers for ease of transport and to ensure that no matter what their losses some stones would get to the Company’s treasury. During the day the Badgers ventured out in twos and threes to see the placement of the target building and the likely paths they would be taking, while Henri looked over the points where he would place the egran and Durek studied the walls and plotted their escape. Elonia went over their saddles, tack, wagons, and ox-harnesses with the Rod of Obstruction whose effect was to prevent any Seer from examining the items and obtaining a reading. Later she would go over their quarters and any gear left behind.
Era Ludio was as eager to contact them as they were to leave: a messenger brought a note arranging an initial contact two hours before midnight in a warehouse near the one holding their wagons.
After the reply had been sent to Era Ludio, Elonia secretly sent off a message of her own.
Midnight was two and one-half hours away; Elonia had burned out the Rod of Obstruction clearing away the last detectable auras in their quarters and the Badgers were looking to their arms and armor. Starr had switched her quiver around to left-handed use again, and all were blackening weapons with ink while burnt cork was on hand for faces once the action began. A few dry jokes got more laughter than they were worth, and loads were shifted, repacked, and adjusted again.
Durek went over the adjusted plan in whispers to each Badger in turn. Vault group, consisting of himself, Dmitri, Janna, Roger, Arian, and Henri would meet with Ludio and deal with him, set up the egran, and hit the Vault-building that they believed contained the Torc. Throne group consisting of Bridget, Kroh, Starr, Rolf, Elonia, and Maxmillian would hit the Stalharn, or Great Hall where there were stored the bones of high-ranking Lanthrell captives and similar trophies. Rescuing these items, Elonia advised them, would confuse the issue as to who ordered the raid.
Both groups would then fall back to a point under the walls, far from the Site and the main fighting, and use their egran to exit back to the old Hobrec granary where their mo
unts and stored gear waited for them.
Four Orbs of Destruction were carried by Henri, and two by Bridget; Durek, Henri, Bridget, and Elonia each carried five Storms. Each member of Vault group carried a backpack, and each of Throne group carried a leather harness and silk cord for carrying the skeletons. Henri carried their escape egran, and Janna, Roger, and Dmitri carried those for the Felher. Every Badger carried a few Felher darts, and most had a knife, adze, or other piece of Felher war-gear; each group also had a closed lantern containing a time-candle marked by quarter-hours to keep them on the same time schedule. They were as ready as they could be.
Vault group slipped out first, heading for the meeting point, moving carefully and alert for patrols. There was a quarter moon and virtually no clouds; the crisp, near-freezing air seemed translucent, bathed in a pearly glow, making the shadowed fortress seem even more unreal. The Badgers would have wished for more darkness but set about their business with a will.
Durek picked the lock on the warehouse door while Janna, Arian, and Roger took up positions around the building. Once inside, Henri swung himself into the rafters while Durek and Dmitri checked the cavernous single-room building, empty now but for a large pile of straw and some broken packing crates.
The big serjeant finished probing the straw with the long shaft of his serpent-decorated axe and stood back, drumming his fingers on his blackened breastplate. "This could be useful," he jerked his head at the straw.
The Captain nodded. "I believe so; helps tie up loose ends."
"Selling the andern still rides poorly with me," Dmitri commented, hanging a lit lantern on a handy hook to illuminate the proceedings. "At least now we can begin to even the score for it."
"It was a dark deed," Durek agreed. "Still, it was needful, as having the stuff to sell made getting us into the Inner Keep less remarkable for Era Ludio, though I don't doubt he would have done it anyway. And it got us a quantity of enchanted loot that will see good service before the night is over. We'll try to offset the harm with the damage we and the Felher do. I think they'll find that they got a poor bargain for it."
"And speaking of the buyers..." Dmitri jerked his head to the door and the sound of a key being worked in the lock.
Preceded and followed by burly, well-armed half-Orcs, a haughty Direthrell swept into the warehouse, his richly embroidered cloak swirling behind him. He cocked an eyebrow in mild surprise at the appearances of the two before him, but refrained from commenting on their blackened armor and weapons. "I am called Ludio," he favored them with a brief nod. "We shall speak Pradian, which my companions understand not at all. Do you have the journal?"
"Not here, of course, but yes we have it," Durek murmured, regretfully closing the lantern that contained the time-candle. "We have a tome of seventy-two pages listing perhaps two hundred incidents and secrets, a dozen of which you now know. Possession of it would make you vastly powerful within this hold, perhaps even as to rival the Hold Mistress." Carefully, the Dwarf set the lantern down. "I don't suppose you brought a down payment with you, to reserve it, as it were?"
"Hardly not," Ludio sniffed. "But I am very interested; surely before this night is over we will work out an arrangement that will suit both of us."
"Already have," nodded the Captain, making a short, sharp gesture. Dmitri put a quarrel through the left Thane's throat and a sling bullet from the rafters smashed the right one's skull. Durek raised his crossbow and held it steady on Ludio's chest. "But I don't think it'll be agreeable to both of us. Don't move, Ludio: you're useful alive, but by no means essential. The Hold-Mistress would like you to explain why you did not bring this windfall to her attention. Search him."
Ignoring Dmitri's quick, practiced hands, Ludio stared narrow-eyed at the Dwarf. "No, you're not Pargaie, nor servants of Clarevia. I would not have even come this far were you so. You're common bandits."
Durek shrugged; apparently Ludio wasn't as thick as they had hoped. "Close enough, but remember: we're common bandits with a blade at your throat, for whom you vouched to get into Alantarn. Your neck is on the same block as ours, should we be caught. Cooperate and you may weather all of this."
The Threll noble scowled. "What do you expect to gain here? This is a fortress, you fool, not some isolated farmstead! I couldn't get you into the treasure-vaults, nor into the Site. Give it up before you make things worse for yourselves."
Roger and Arian entered, dragging two more bodies; Dmitri directed them bury the corpses in the straw-pile alongside the two half-Orcs who had come in with the Era.
"We have our plans," Durek smiled. "Keep in mind that we are not fools: we know what we are about. Keep your wits about you and a cooperative attitude and you may very well come out of this alive and ahead of the game, as the secrets we've given you so far are all true."
Working quickly, the Badgers arranged four candles to start a fire in an hour or so; the straw was positioned against a wall, so that in the confusion of the Felher attack the entire warehouse would likely be lost, destroying whatever clues could be obtained from the dead Thanes.
With the Era in the lead and the Badgers deployed as a Remur section, Vault group moved out with a purpose. Patrols, recognizing the Era, waved them on; working with a surety gained by practice, Henri assembled the Felher Gate egran, simple rod structures that resembled waist-high tripods, in shadowed places near their targets, one hidden by the bulk of a fountain, another in the deep moon-shadow at a building corner, the third secreted in the lee of a hitching rack. None were precisely where they had been promised, but they were close enough to serve, and in any case the Badgers did not care about the Felhers’ fate, only for the distraction they would bring.
"That's the last," Henri advised his Captain, carefully peeling off his andern-coated gloves, dropping them into a box held ready by Rolf. The magical energies of the Gate opening would burn away the andern on the egran; by carrying off the gloves, the Direthrell would be denied sure knowledge of how the Gates were smuggled in.
Durek checked the lantern again. "Close to the start of it, if the Felher are keeping the same time as we are. Lead on."
Moving at a normal pace for appearances, which dragged agonizingly at the nerves, Vault group moved to their goal: the squat bulk of a treasure storehouse. The latter were housed in massive buildings near the center of the Inner Keep, well-fortified and always garrisoned. Taking up position facing the blank back wall, the Badgers waited.
"This is madness," Ludio hissed to Durek. "You are insane if you think you can force your way into the vaults and live to tell about it. The alarms will draw the whole garrison down around your ears!"
"Actually, I'm counting on the garrison having better things to concern itself with," Durek explained. "Wait and see."
"Fools."
"Fools we may be, but you're the captive. Now, keep quiet unless you've got something useful to say, or we'll leave you behind, tied up and with a pouch full of Hand correspondence."
For long minutes the Badgers waited, silent blocks of time that seemed to last days. Despite the cold air that traced filigrees of frost on the flagstones beneath their feet, more than one Badger was sweating. Then with a sound that seemed to stun rather than be heard, the great alarm-bell tolled, smashing the silence of the night as the massive clapper swung and struck the bell's rim; moments later horns shrilled, calling out the garrison.
The noise drowned out the first half of Ludio's shocked outburst, and Dmitri driving a Felher theeb into his chest stopped the other half.
Henri had ignored all around him, concentrating on the blank stone wall before him, an Orb of Destruction ready in the pouch of his sling. He felt the Gates activate, three tiny prickles along his spine that he wouldn't have noticed but for his concentration. Winding up for the cast, he let the bell sound so as not to disturb his aim before casting. The Orb struck the wall at chest height with a dull gray-orange flash and a sound that was lost in the bells and horns; a section of the wall roughly the size of an ordinary door
collapsed into gravel. The opening was ten inches deep, but not deep enough to pierce the massive glazed blocks that made up the wall-a second Orb was needed to open it up the rest of the way.
The Badgers paused while several blocks, shorn of their support, crashed to earth and the entire wall sagged, dust spurting from the lines of masonry and cracks climbing snake-like along the buttresses. The shoring and framework held, however, leaving an opening five feet high and nearly three wide. Henri sent a third Orb through the opening and across the width of a wide hallway to strike an inner wall; this one lacked the outer wall's thickness and the single Orb opened a passage with power to spare.
Durek led them through the opening, turning to the right; Dmitri followed, facing left. Roger joined Durek, Janna went to Dmitri, and Henri and Arian leapt through the opening in the inner wall, the monk pausing to rip a lit lamp from a wall sconce. Already they could hear the wailing cries of Felher warriors and the sounds of fighting.
Durek and Roger faced two startled Direthrell guards armed with spear and shield in a wide hallway well-lit by oil lamps every ten feet; Durek's quarrel took one in the forehead, and Roger's javelin took the other in the throat. The Dwarf slung his crossbow and drew his axe, feeling naked bearing only ordinary steel as Roger drew his snake-decorated great sword and leaned it against the wall, another javelin balanced in his hand. The sounds of pounding feet and shouts from around the corner ten feet distant warned them of the approach of more guards.
"I hope they're quick in there," Roger growled. Durek grunted agreement.
Direthrell, grim in gray-black chain mail, pale eyes glittering beneath conical steel helms with steel bar nose-guards, burst around the corner, spears leveled, stout round shields bearing the blasted Tree of Arbmante held ready. One took a javelin through the leg and tripped, crashing to the floor and throwing those behind them into confusion. Durek leapt forward as Roger scooped up his sword, axe flickering out to smash two spear shafts. Roger stabbed the wounded Threll in the neck, cursing as the ordinary steel of his sword struck the warrior’s spine and was notched, then withdrew the blade to split the rim of a shield. Behind them they could hear Janna and Dmitri, who were blessed with a slightly longer stretch of corridor between them and the corner they faced, go into action.
