“A roll in the hay and a glass of your finest Brigon apple wine,” said Horus boisterously. He put his hands in her armpits, raised her bodily across the bar, and kissed her wetly on the lips. It was not the first time she had served them, and she wiggled free, giggling.
“Wine first, my lord,” she said with an arch smile.
“And Asgar, my loyal Utrean friend, will pay for me today,” said Horus loudly. “And drink to my health and to the glory of the House of Matalus.”
“I will buy your wine and drink your health,” said Asgar, poking Horus in the ribs. “But your wenching and the glory of your house are yours to pay for.”
The wine was served, and at Asgar’s suggestion they moved to a table by the fire. The men who were seated there quickly vacated their seats to make room for them and scuttled to other parts of the room. Horus took a sip of his wine and smacked his lips in appreciation. He looked into the fire.
“By the way, I just remembered,” said Horus carelessly. “Some clerics serving the Thermadan White Khalif at Nordberg were here just after you went ranging last month. They were asking about an Utrean by the name of Greghar, but the portrait they showed around looked remarkably like you. Do you have any business with the White Khalif? Do you know what this is all about?”
Asgar’s fingers stiffened around his wineglass, but he kept his face expressionless.
“I have no idea,” he said. To change the subject, he jerked his head toward the bar and continued, “You don’t seriously mean to continue wenching, do you? Remember how angry Talia was last week when she smelled this girl on you.”
“I can’t help it,” Horus said sulkily. “It has been almost a month since our runt was born, and she still keeps me out of her bed. I have the rights and privileges of the manor. If she won’t give me what I need, I can choose from many who will. I am a man of great passion, not a cold-blooded northerner like you.”
“Be reasonable, Horus,” said Asgar in a calming tone. “It was a difficult birth. The midwife told you to wait two months after the baby was born.”
CAITLIN AND NITYA entered Upper Thal at the market end. It was a forlorn sight in the snow and wind. The last one or two stalls were packing up, and they had nothing that they wanted. There were two huntresses at the entrance to the Guild fort who eyed them suspiciously as they shooed out the last of their customers. Caitlin was glad the cowl of her cloak shrouded her face, since she recognized one of the huntresses from her Academy days.
Nitya dismounted and boldly walked up to one of the huntresses and said, “We would like to buy some provisions.”
“We are done trading for the day, little one,” she responded without hostility. “See, we are almost done packing and will be gone in fifteen minutes.” She jerked her thumb upward. Nitya followed it up and saw the running lights of the freighter airboat, barely visible in the driving snow.
As Nitya returned to Caitlin, the huntresses drew the gates of the Guild fort closed. Caitlin knew that they would strip the fort bare before departing with their goods and profits. They both stood and watched as the airboat lowered a platform and, within ten minutes, winched it up with the last remaining market women, huntresses, and materials.
“We must find an inn to stay in,” called Caitlin into Nitya’s ear. “The storm will be here before the night is out, and we must be under shelter.”
Nitya nodded.
“Remember, leave the talking to me,” she called back. “I will say that you are my sister.”
“You are my sister,” said Caitlin, smiling. “We protect each other.”
They rode down the short street till they came to the inn with the rough sign of the bugle. They dismounted and led their horses around the side of the rough structure. They found the livery stable at the rear, a dim light spilling from its one small window. Caitlin rapped on it. A few minutes later one of the stable doors creaked open, and they entered, leading their horses.
They found themselves facing a young lad, no more than a teenager, with a pimply face and nervous manner. Nitya poked Caitlin in the side and spoke up in flawless Utrish.
“My sister and I would like to stable our horses. We will be staying at the Bugle Inn.”
“A silver talent for each horse for every night,” returned the lad in halting Utrish. It was clear that it was not his first language. “Payable in advance.”
“Rubbish!” said Nitya scornfully. “One silver talent will buy us a week’s worth of stabling for both our horses in Nordberg. But the weather is bad, and we need to stop here. We will pay you one silver talent for both our horses when we leave in a couple of days.”
“You speak Utrish beautifully for a southerner from Daksin,” came a voice from behind them. “Does the huntress speak Utrish too?”
Both Nitya and Caitlin swung around. A tall stranger with ash blond ringlets lounged against the stable door, an amused smile on his face.
“Who are you?” demanded Nitya. Caitlin looked from the stranger to Nitya and back again, dumbfounded. Both the stranger and Nitya had spoken in Pranto, the Zon language spoken by a mere handful outside of the Sisterhood.
The stranger turned to the stable boy, who stood by in confusion.
“Take the horses, boy, and stable them,” he said in Brigish with a heavy Utrish accent. “But first give the ladies their saddlebags and effects.”
Caitlin and Nitya went over to make sure the boy did no mischief and returned with their effects. There seemed no point in beating around the bush.
“Who are you, and what do you want?” asked Caitlin, keeping the conversation in Pranto.
“Were you planning to walk straight into the inn?” he asked in the same language, not answering the question. “That would be very foolish, huntress, with a bounty of ten thousand gold talents on your head. Not to mention the five thousand on the head of the little witch. There are thirty swords in there, and each one would slaughter you in an instant for a tenth of that amount.”
“I am not a witch,” said Nitya automatically.
Caitlin went pale. Her mind worked furiously, but every option seemed equally unpalatable. This enormous bounty changed everything. Now that the stranger knew their identities, he must die immediately. Fortunately, the stable boy was unlikely to have understood the conversation. She slowly reached into her saddlebag under the cover of her bedroll, her fingers searching for the oilcloth package containing her laser pistol.
The stranger casually drew his longsword and advanced on her.
“Don’t make me do this, huntress,” he said flatly. “I can run you through long before you get that laser pistol out. Ten thousand gold talents will take all the sting out of my regret.”
Caitlin froze. He came up to her and put out his left hand, saying, “Just give me the pistol.” She stared at the sharp sword edge in the lamplight for a long moment before drawing the oilcloth package and putting it in his hand. He shrugged out of his leather pack and put the package in it before hefting it again.
“Now,” he said, continuing in Pranto. “You two are going to have to trust me, not because of my honest face, but because you have no choice. You have to wait out the storm here in Upper Thal. I was not joking when I said that every sword in this town hungers for your blood. You have blundered into the fief of Baron Marnus Matalus, the father of Ragnus Matalus, the Brigon cheval you vaporized outside Dreslin. Ragnus’s brother, Horus, is currently in residence at Upper Thal fort. You could not have chosen a worse town to shelter in.”
Neither Caitlin nor Nitya had a response and waited for him to go on.
“I have my own reasons for getting you out of here safely,” he continued. “But you will have to play along with me to make this happen. Keep your cloaks wrapped around you and let the cowls shadow your faces. I will claim that you, Caitlin, are my woman from Utrea and you, Nitya, are her sister. Leave everything to me, and do not open your mouths if you want to live.”
They looked at each other, nonplussed.
“As you
say, we have no choice,” said Caitlin slowly. “But be warned, if you betray us, I will kill you before I go down.” She half drew her d’Orr blade before sliding it back into its scabbard.
“You have yet to tell us your name, Utrean,” piped up Nitya.
“Asgar,” he said shortly. “Here they call me Asgar the Utrean.”
He led them from the stable to the back door of the inn. Keeping their cowls pulled forward and their heads down, they followed him through the bustling kitchen and brew house and into the large parlor by the serving entrance. Caitlin slouched to conceal her height. Asgar’s cloak was draped over a comfortable empty table in a dark corner. He led them to it and seated them with their backs to the wall. The parlor had a huge fireplace, and the roaring blaze made them both hot in their warm traveling cloaks. But after their long, cold day, they both welcomed the feeling of excessive warmth.
The inn was crowded and lively with barmaids going around with large tankards of ale and trays of wine, good-naturedly slapping away prying hands. A trio of fiddlers was playing a sprightly tune. Conversation and raucous laughter filled the air. Asgar left them and returned a short while later with two large steaming bowls of soup and a plate of thick-sliced black bread.
“Just beans and oats and bread,” he said cheerfully. “The cheapest items on the menu.”
Caitlin and Nitya looked at one another. The Zon and the Yengars were vegetarians, but how did this strange Utrean know that?
Both of them were famished, and the soup’s aroma was irresistible. Without further ado or thought, they both proceeded to wolf down the soup, barely pausing to breathe. They sat sopping up the last dregs with their bread when they finally looked up to see Asgar grinning broadly.
“It pleases me to see two ladies with such good appetites,” he said, chuckling.
The trio had started a new number and they sat back to listen. It was a sweet ballad in the local Brigish dialect that was laced with a lot of Utrish. Caitlin and Nitya had to attend closely to understand it all.
When I look into your eyes
I see forever
When you look into my eyes
You will see
That I am your man.
When I saw you in my dreams
I knew we were meant to be
I know that to you this all seems
So wrong, and I agree.
But I am your man.
Let us make a vow
No matter that the world is against us
To believe in each other and somehow
Create from two, a oneness
For I am your man.
Caitlin sneaked a look at the tall stranger. It just happened to coincide with his taking a covert look at her. Their eyes met. For reasons she could not fathom, a blush rose to her face. He looked away quickly. Nitya saw their exchange and smiled.
DIANA AND DURGA stood on the Pinnacle Lookout.
“There is no way you can fly the airboat out again,” said Durga. “The storm is beginning to close in.”
Diana stood looking at the storm in silence for a few moments.
“I hate to admit it, but you are right, Durga,” she responded finally. “If I could just get the airboat out of the cauldron, I could still fly through this. But the downdrafts and eddies in the cauldron are now much too strong—we would certainly be dashed into the cauldron walls. How long will it take to get to Upper Thal on horseback?”
Durga looked dubious.
“In this weather?” she asked. “Visibility will deteriorate in this glizzard, and the accompanying electrical field will distort our instruments. Even if we managed to go straight there, it is a ride of at least a week.”
“We can’t risk taking that long,” said Diana decisively. “I had hoped to avoid it, but there is no option now. We will have to use rocket packs.”
“We don’t have any,” said Durga, uncomfortably.
“We brought some with us in the airboat,” smiled Diana. “Enough for a squad. Do you have five or six Maidens who have a summa rocket-pack rating?”
Durga thought it over carefully.
“I will come myself,” she said decisively. “I am sure we can find five or six others.”
An hour later there was a crowd on the Pinnacle Lookout. The Maidens’ watch had brought all the equipment up and was helping the squad buckle on their rocket packs. Megara and Alex looked out at the storm dubiously. Durga had located six Maidens with summa rocket-pack qualifications, and, while they were doing their best to put on a brave front, they all looked uncomfortable.
Once they all had their gear buckled on, Diana addressed them.
“All of you have rocket-pack qualifications,” she said. “The storm will make things tricky, but you will be fine as long as you keep your head and don’t panic. We will lasso together in strings of five. I will lead the first string, and Durga will lead the second. Visibility is poor, so make sure you keep sight of the flashing beacon of the person in front of you. We will keep in touch over the comm—keep your helmet communicators on full volume. There will be a lot of static and distortion because of the storm.”
She paused and smiled, her eyes bright with anticipation. She’s addicted to adrenalin, thought Megara. She lives for times like this.
“Remember,” continued Diana. “We must fly at maneuvering speed, or as fast as we can go, given the buffeting on our bodies. Durga and I will set the speed, so keep your rocket-pack power high enough to maintain slack on the lasso.”
Diana calmly walked over to the edge of the Pinnacle Lookout, her boot tips over the brink. She gave her zircon lasso a light tug to ensure there was plenty of slack to Alex, who was next in her string. She tugged up the zipper of her lyntronex uniform to make sure it was snug and touched the crossed-swords insignia on her metal choker for reassurance.
“Five seconds apart,” she called. She looked at the watch seignora. “Call it out!”
Diana clicked down her helmet visor to protect her face. She heard the watch seignora call out, “Five, four, three, two, one, go!” With one hand on her zircon lasso, she launched herself into the storm. Even though she was prepared, Diana was shocked by the ferocity of the wind that bore her away from the Pinnacle Lookout. The lights of the citadel were lost to view within seconds, and she literally had no inkling of which way was up. The force of the wind bore her so strongly that there was no sensation of falling. But she knew the laws of physics had not been repealed. The winds were blowing from the north. Mount Brimstone lay to the southwest of Simrania, and she would be driven right into its shoulder unless she took control of her flight.
Diana rotated her free fall so she was being borne headfirst and ignited her rocket pack. The sensation of acceleration was dramatic, and the rocket-pack straps were jerked taut. The ignition activated the data feed from the rocket pack, and her altitude and ground proximity appeared on her visor. She carefully adjusted the power and nozzle directions on the pack until her readout indicated that she was in level flight. Then she heard a crackle in her helmet communicator.
“Cornelle, Centuria Alexandra here.” Alex’s voice was scratchy with the distortion caused by the storm. “I’m lined up fifty meters behind you.”
Seconds later, Megara checked in, and then the two Maidens in their string.
“We’re all set; let’s head out,” said Diana. “We’ll keep a steady speed and listen in for Durga’s string to form up and follow.”
Seconds turned to minutes, and finally they began hearing Durga’s string calling in. Eventually Durga called in to announce that her string was formed up behind them and that she could see the flashing beacons of Diana’s string.
“Okay, I’m setting course for Upper Thal,” said Diana. “Are we having fun yet?”
Megara grimaced to herself. She could hear her rocket pack roar over the storm. Every so often she was completely spun about by the swirling wind. Her temperature shield held, and the whipping snow condensed on her skin as a fine warm spray. She could see the th
ick miasma of snowflakes, driven into seemingly chaotic patterns by the howling gale. She concentrated on the red flashing beacon on Alex’s rocket pack and kept her power high enough to keep her at a more or less constant distance. Her flight time was shown on her visor display, but the seconds seemed to spin ever so slowly. I should be petrified, she thought. But Diana’s confidence is infectious.
NITYA LOOKED OVER at Asgar and smiled. There was something about this stranger that she instinctively trusted. He does not mean us harm, she thought. As though he had read her mind, he leaned over, rubbed the tip of her nose, and whispered, “Be brave, little one.”
“My father used to do that,” she responded in surprise. He smiled.
Just as she was beginning to feel at ease, there was a commotion from near the staircase that led upstairs. All in the parlor turned to look.
Horus had tripped over a tankard someone had left on the stairs as he was making his way down. He was sprawled on the floor and was now cursing loudly and calling on whoever had left the tankard to own up and face his wrath. No one spoke up. The barmaid who had been with him helped him up. He stared around the room with challenging eyes.
“Who thinks this is funny?” he roared. “Speak up! Someone must pay!”
He continued scanning the parlor till his eyes fell on Asgar. He shouldered his way through the crowd and came up to their table. Asgar rose, interposing himself between Horus and Caitlin and Nitya.
“Asgar,” Horus said, plaintively. “Someone wants to make me look foolish. You were here the whole time. Who was it?”
“It was an accident, Cheval,” said Asgar, keeping his tone carefully respectful. “You know you are a hero to your men, beloved by women. I see the evidence on your person.”
The Empire of the Zon Page 18
