“Would you have any objection to an escort of cavalry along your way, Dhulyn Wolfshead?”
She let her mouth fall open and her eyes go wide. Then she smiled her wolf’s smile. “You’ve lost him, haven’t you? Blooded fools and amateurs that you are, you’ve lost him.” She relaxed her shoulders, shaking her head with a low whistle. “I should take offense, Kispeko, at what you ask of me. I should, but it would be mean in me. You may give us an escort. Sun! You may search our gear and baggage, if you’d like. Though how you’d think we’ve hidden the princeling in amongst our spare boots and extra blades . . .” She shook her head again.
“You can account for yourself last night, Wolfshead,” Subcommander Renic spoke up. The harshness of his tone showed how little amused he was.
Dhulyn grinned. “I can. From the end of the first watch at least. That is, Cavalry Squad Leader Jedrick can.”
Kispeko signaled to the messenger still standing near the tent entrance and the boy disappeared, returning in moments with Jedrick. The squad leader did not acknowledge Dhulyn at all, but saluted his commanders and stood to attention.
“The Mercenary Brother Dhulyn Wolfshead tells us that you can account for her whereabouts last night, after the end of the first watch?”
“I can, Commander.” Jedrick spoke without emphasis. “We were in her tent from that time until almost the end of the fifth watch.” His mustache trembled and Dhulyn was certain Jedrick had almost smiled. “At which time,” he continued, “many others can attest that the Wolfshead and I were both there.”
“And half the camp can swear as to where Parno Lionsmane was and what he was doing the whole of the night, Commander,” Romenec said from his seat next to Kispeko. From the dry tone of his voice, it was evident he’d heard nothing new to him. “I tell you there is no point in continuing this line of inquiry.”
Dhulyn almost bit her lip. Romenec was a good man, he trusted her, and it went against the grain to trick him. But he had supported his commander against her request that their contract be honored, and that placed him out of the reach of her sympathy.
Kispeko was already nodding. “As you have guessed, the prince has escaped. We can find no trail, no sign. Mercenaries are skilled beyond the usual, will you find him for us?”
Dhulyn lifted one blood-red brow and waited. Apparently she was the only one to appreciate irony when she heard it.
“Yesterday I called you Oathbreaker,” she said finally. “And told you none of my Brotherhood would take service with you again. That was my final word, Commander Kispeko.”
Romenec, the brother she’d worked under, showed no surprise at this; the other, Renic, wrinkled his nose in disapproval.
“There is a Finder in Jarasev, at the Royal House. We will be sending for her.”
Dhulyn shrugged. “Then you will have no need of us.”
Renic leaned on the table to speak again, but Kispeko raised the fingers of his right hand and he fell silent.
“If that is all, Commander, my Partner and I would like to leave today.” Dhulyn carefully ignored both subcommanders.
“Very well. Should I decide to lend you an escort,” Kispeko said, “they will find you on the north road?”
Dhulyn inclined her head the exact depth courtesy required. “We go to Broduk, to take ship there,” she said and turned to go. Jedrick was holding aside the tent’s closure for her.
“I would walk with you to your tent, Wolfshead.”
She grinned at him, careful not to let her upper lip pull back. “Sure you don’t want to give me that cloak after all,” she asked him. “It looks much better on me.”
“It gives a nice color to your skin, when you are lying on it, that much is true. But I must keep it to remember you by.”
Dhulyn laughed and tapped the man on his shoulder with her closed fist, lowering her eyes as if embarrassed. He’ll think it’s because we did, she thought, not because we didn’t. Tricking Jedrick was even more fun than she’d expected.
As they neared her camp space, Dhulyn could see Parno sitting on the large bundle that was their packed tent with a smaller figure next to him looking at something in Parno’s hands. He’d sent someone for their horses while she was with Kispeko, or had gone himself, since all four beasts were there, waiting for saddles and packs.
“Wolfshead, a moment.”
Sun and Moon, what does he want now? But she turned with a friendly look and raised eyebrows. The camp was alive around them, but no one was near enough to hear what they said to each other. Jedrick was frowning again, and looking at his feet. Blood.
“We had no time to take a proper leave of one another,” Jedrick said. “We were . . . interrupted. I never had opportunity to ask you if—” He straightened his shoulders and looked her in the eye. “If all went well last night?”
Dhulyn hoped he couldn’t hear her heart thumping in her chest. Or perhaps it would be better if he could. “I thought I made that abundantly clear last night,” she said. “Come now, Jedrick, I didn’t think you were the type who needed to be praised and complimented.”
Now Jedrick flushed, and Dhulyn, waiting for the next question, the obvious question, wondered what she would answer.
“No, of course not,” was what he finally said. “But with you a Mercenary Brother, and an Outlander . . .”
“Of course,” she said, tapping him once again with her fist. “I understand. Let me say then, that I won’t soon forget you.”
“Nor I you, of course,” Jedrick said, a little too quickly, his relief clear. “Nor I you.”
“Come, say farewell to Parno Lionsmane.”
Jedrick fell into step beside her once more, though it seemed to Dhulyn that his shoulders were lower, and his arms swung with more ease. Nice enough in his way, she thought. But he still has too good an opinion of himself. After a few more paces she came to an abrupt halt. It was Sjan, the young horse girl who looked after Randle’s tether, sharing Parno’s seat, but that wasn’t what caught Dhulyn’s eye and made her press her lips together. The larger horse pack was still open, road rations waiting on the ground beside it. The spare bows lay next to their oiled wrappings, and Parno’s pipes—stowed into their special bag with one or two other small valuables before she’d been called to the commander’s tent—were out again, as Parno was showing Sjan how to fill the bag of air.
“Sun, Moon, and Stars, didn’t you finish?”
Parno looked up. “Back already? Sjan here brought us our horses, so I thought, just to thank her . . .”
Dhulyn rolled her eyes, calling on her gods to witness the nonsense she had to put up with, and sighed elaborately. “Can we finish now? I’d like to be on our way sometime today.”
“Of course, my soul.” Parno sprang to his feet. “What did they want, anyway?”
“The prince has escaped.”
Parno was halfway to the bag of pipes that Jedrick was helpfully holding open for him when Dhulyn’s words stopped him, and turned him around, eyes wide and mouth open.
Don’t overdo it, Dhulyn thought.
“The blooded fools,” Parno said.
“That’s what I told them.” Dhulyn pulled the laces of the large bag shut more sharply than necessary and dragged it over to the new packhorse, clucking at the animal as it rolled its eye at her. “After they’d made sure it wasn’t us, Kispeko asked if we’d track the boy.”
“Now they want our help.” Parno stowed his pipes into their bag and nodded his thanks to Jedrick. As Parno dealt with the bag’s closures, Jedrick went to help Dhulyn lift the heavy travel pack on to the new horse.
“My thanks, Jedrick,” Dhulyn said, tugging the pack forward slightly on the packhorse’s back. “Those saddlebags on our mounts, if you would be so kind. Parno will help me with the tent,” she added in a voice filled with menace. Jedrick grinned at her, and she winked at him.
The bundle of tent was awkward, but their old packhorse, called Stumpy due to his short legs, had carried much worse and merely snorted at thei
r efforts to balance the bundle on his back. With Sjan’s help they had the tent tied securely, and Dhulyn surveyed the rest of the camp. Saddlebags on Bloodbone and Warhammer; tent, extra weapons, clothing and food packs distributed between the two pack animals; finally she nodded and turned to where Jedrick stood in the empty space where their camp had been. “I believe this is farewell, Squad Leader. Again, I thank you for your assistance.”
“It has been a pleasure, Dhulyn Wolfshead. I hope we may meet again.” Jedrick gave her a short bow and a wide smile.
Dhulyn swung herself on to Bloodbone’s back and settled into her saddle, checking that sword and knives were within reach. “Sun and Moon shine on you. Wind at your back.” She nodded, and turned Bloodbone’s head away, urging the mare forward with her knees.
Almost at the edge of the camp Dhulyn looked back, catching Parno’s eye. She could just see Jedrick in his red cloak, still standing where their tent had been.
“Still there,” she said.
“Of course.” Parno rolled his right shoulder with a grimace. “He had a good look at everything we’d packed—”
“Which you so cleverly left half-packed for him.”
“Just so. And once he’d satisfied himself that I didn’t have Prince Edmir in my pipe satchel, he’d want to be sure we were really on our way.”
“I hope this is all worth it,” Dhulyn said.
Parno raised an eyebrow.
“I really liked that cloak.”
The north road to Broduk was well conditioned, and they rode through the afternoon, stopping twice to check the packs and retie the tent bundle, but eating their road bread and smoked meat while still in the saddle. The horses were fresh and eager for the exercise, and Dhulyn wanted to put as much distance between them and the Nisvean camp as they could.
When the afternoon turned into evening and the first stars began to appear, Parno called a halt, looking up into the heavens.
“If we turn off here, we can pick up the road to the pass and cut off a great deal of the country.”
“As well as getting us off the road they’ll expect to find us on.
Parno turned in his saddle. “You think they’ll send someone after us?”
Dhulyn had been turning that question over and over in her mind, and had an answer. “No, I don’t think they will,” she said. “That’s what Jedrick was watching us for, to make sure we went where we claimed to go. But in two or three days, when their searching proves fruitless, they’ll think of us again. By then, we’ll be over the border.”
The place Dhulyn finally chose for their campsite—she’d learned early in their Partnership not to leave such choices to Parno—was a small clearing in the center of a thicket of young pine trees, with a larger clearing close by to leave the horses. It wasn’t a perfect camp. They were closer to the road than Dhulyn would have liked, and there was no nearby supply of water, though they were still carrying plenty. The sky was darkening swiftly, however, and they could not continue much longer. They threw the reins over their horses’ heads, hobbled the new packhorse, and went together to take the heavy bundle of tent from Stumpy’s back.
They eased it carefully to the ground, untied the lacing, and pulled it open, exposing what they had hidden with such care within the stiff folds of canvas. Dhulyn dug her fingers under the side of Edmir’s chin and held her breath, counting.
“Give him an hour,” she said, “he’ll come to.” She peeled down his leggings, knowing from experience that it would be better to inspect his wound while he was still unconscious.
“How’s it look?”
“Not as well as I’d like,” she said. “Get my kit and I’ll clean and redress it now.”
“Slipped it right out from among the Lionsmane’s pipes, I tell you. So there’s your great Mercenaries for you.” At these words Jedrick paused, fully expecting Nilo to make an appreciative remark. Though perhaps that was expecting too much, considering the amount the younger man had lost wagering against Parno Lionsmane. But when Nilo said nothing at all, Jedrick turned from where he stood in the doorway of his tent, ready to make a sharp remark of his own about sore losers.
The remark died on his lips.
“Nilo?” he said instead, taking a step toward where the younger man lay slumped forward over the square chest that stood between the cots and served them as a table.
Jedrick’s immediate fear faded. Dead men don’t snore, he told himself.
Nilo’s cup was still rocking on an uneven spot on the carpet that formed the flooring of the tent, where it had fallen from his hand. The cup of Imrion brandy Jedrick had poured out of the Mercenary woman’s flask.
“Nilo,” Jedrick said, putting his own untouched cup down carefully to one side. “Nilo?”
An hour later he stood in Commander Lord Kispeko’s tent, watching the commander’s body servant being carried out, not snoring, but just as unconscious as Nilo had been.
“Call in the search parties,” the commander said to Subcommander Renic. Kispeko’s voice was harsh, as if his throat was tight. “There must be some way to turn this to our advantage.” He turned to Romenec as Renic left the tent.
Jedrick kept silent, fearing to be dismissed, as the cavalry subcommander thought for a moment, his teeth worrying at his mustache. “We could send a messenger to Probic,” Romenec finally suggested. “To the Blue Mage—no, to Queen Kedneara, at once.”
“And how will that advantage us?” Kispeko sat on the edge of his worktable.
“We tell the Tegriani Queen that the Mercenary Brothers have kidnapped their prince.”
“No one would believe such a thing of Mercenary Brothers. They are neutral, always have been.” Even in his rage, Jedrick knew this much.
Romenec spread his hands, lifting his eyebrows. “We were as surprised as any. All we know is that they took him, and kept him, contrary to what we all understood of their Common Rule.”
“It will be enough.” Lord Kispeko was nodding. “People in doubt will choose to take no chances and withhold their aid from them. The Mercenary woman is an Outlander, remember. Perhaps blame can be placed on her.” He fixed his eye on Jedrick. “It isn’t the Brotherhood itself we have to convince, Squad Leader, nor even popular opinion. Only Queen Kedneara. And if we play our tiles carefully, we can make this almost as great an advantage to us as the Prince himself.” He turned to Romenec. “There is something else?”
“Commander, it is imperative that ours is the story the queen hears first. I will pick an escort, and go myself.” Romenec turned to Jedrick. “They went north, this is assured?”
Jedrick nodded. “As they would, if they were truly heading for Broduk.”
Romenec spread his hands and gripped the edge of Commander Lord Kispeko’s worktable, leaning forward to better study the map clamped to the table’s surface.
“Then they will be heading for the Eagles Pass and from there to the Queen’s Royal House at Beolind.” He pointed to their own location in the Limona Valley. “We, however, can use the Limona Pass to reach Probic first, and tell our tale to the City Lord there long before the Mercenaries reach anyone of consequence in Tegrian.” He tapped the “X” marked “Probic” with his right forefinger. “In the meantime,” he continued, “I would suggest that a small party, a select group, be sent after the Mercenaries. Pick from among those who have not fought and trained with them.”
The Commander was nodding, but before he could speak Jedrick was ready. “Permission to go after them myself, Commander,” he said.
Kispeko held up his hand. “Romenec, choose your escort and go, lose no time. Jedrick, remain, I wish to speak to you.”
Jedrick swallowed. This could not bode well.
Kispeko seated himself once again behind his desk, drumming his fingers on the top.
“She made a fool of you,” he said quietly.
Jedrick pressed his lips together. He knew better than to answer.
“You are an ambitious man, Squad Leader. This episode won’t do mu
ch to further your ambitions, will it?”
“No, Commander.”
“No.” Kispeko beckoned Jedrick closer. “But there are other ways to gain recognition, Squad Leader. Other ambitions to aspire to. How many men do you think you would need to take these Mercenaries?”
“If I may speak frankly, Commander.” Jedrick prudently waited for Kispeko’s nod. “I would take archers. It would be easier to kill than to capture them alive.”
“And in that case?”
“Five men, counting myself. If they were the right men.”
“Choose the right men, then, Squad Leader.”
Jedrick drew himself to attention. “Thank you, Commander.”
Kispeko did not dismiss him, but leaned on his elbow, tapping his lips with his fingers. “Squad Leader, the prince need not return with you. It will prove to our advantage if the Mercenary Brothers have killed him. Do you, and your ambitions, understand me?”
What he saw in Jedrick’s face must have satisfied him.
“You may go, Squad Leader.”
“Dhulyn—”
Dhulyn held up her right forefinger, sipped from the shallow metal ladle in her left hand, swallowed, and nodded before speaking.
“Only my Brothers may call me Dhulyn,” she said to the prince. “To anyone else I am Wolfshead, or Scholar, and my Partner is Lionsmane, or Chanter. And your question?”
Prince Edmir blinked, as though he was unaccustomed to being given instructions, but he swallowed and dropped his eyes in a way Dhulyn didn’t like.
“I don’t understand how you managed to trick Jedrick into drinking the iocain without drinking any yourself,” he said, as he took the cup of rabbit broth she passed him with a nod of thanks. His injured leg, the wound repacked and bound with fresh-boiled cloths, was stretched out straight in front of him. Dhulyn had made a small fire, using the fireproof cloth she and Parno had purchased in Berdana so as to leave no mark on the ground. Even if, at some future time, someone found their campsite and managed to deduce what it was, there would be no way to tell how many of them there had been.
The Soldier King Page 5
