Crae second-guessed himself all the way to Red Gold Bridge. By the time the walls of the stronghold rose through the trees, the carved rock streaked with snow, he had despaired of every one of his actions from the moment they left Trieve.
His face hurt, and his heart ached. He had failed— everything. Everything he had tried to fix remained broken beyond repair.
He turned around in the saddle as best he could. Lynn looked miserable, Brin even more so, his face drawn and his mouth compressed with pain. The little man slumped against Lynn and every now and then Crae heard her speaking to him, offering encouragement.
He thought about what would happen when they reached Red Gold Bridge. He had resigned his commission and no longer answered to Lord Tharp, but as Lord Tharp no longer answered to the Council, that might not serve his defense. And then there was the matter of Lynn. Crae felt confident that Stavin would speak for them both, but he had less confidence in Stavin’s success. Much depended on Lord Tharp’s war; if it were going well, he could afford to be magnanimous.
From what Brin had told them, it was not going well at all.
“Hold up!” Hare called, and they stopped, the horses blowing and stamping in the cold. The sun was a pale disk in the overcast sky. More snow was on the way.
Up ahead, through the trees, they could see movement along the road, a troop of riders cantering toward them.
With shock Crae recognized them. They were his men, led by Tal.
Tal halted his horse and called out, “Identify yourselves.”
Hare took his time. “Marai, vice governor of Cai-sone,” he answered at length. “I bear gifts for your lord.” He swung a hand back at the three captives.
Tal and Crae’s eyes locked. Crae sat straight, letting the young soldier—no, captain, now—see his position. A captive. Hostage. The young man hesitated, then nodded.
“On behalf of Lord Tharp, we accept your hostages. Follow me to Red Gold Bridge. Lord Tharp awaits you.”
He looked at Crae once more, his eyes widening a bit when he saw Brin holding onto Lynn for dear life, but then just nodded and wheeled his horse.
Lynn stared hard as she approached Red Gold Bridge for the second time. This time the solid fortress looked much the worse for wear. The outer wall had crackled and tumbled. The guardhouses were rubble. The soaring bridge over which she had ridden months ago had collapsed into a pile of stone, and the stream had spilled out around it, flooding the terrain toward the river. They had to enter the stronghold from one of the smaller courtyards facing the river, and even there the walls were shored up with timber and hastily patched.
The ground rumbled, and pebbles bounced down the newly mortared walls. The rumbling subsided but then welled up again. The constant shaking took hold of her bones. How can people live like this? she thought.
Four Brytherners stationed themselves around the hostages, but the young man, Tal, called out, “Hey!” The young captain flushed but said firmly enough, “Swords up. My men will guard the hostages. Jevin. Harabal.” He jerked his head at two men, and they stationed themselves around the trio. Still aboard Dungiven, Hare eyed them all but grudgingly called his men over.
“Jevin. Harabal. Good to see you,” Crae said under his breath.
“Sir,” they muttered.
Brin said through the pain, “It’s good to be home, eh, Captain? ”
Crae shook his head. He looked around at the toppled stronghold. “It all fell apart without us.”
“So who the hell is Hare? Vice what of where?” Lynn murmured. She put her arms around herself. Her hair whipped around her face, and her back stiffened with cold.
Crae dropped his voice. “Vice governor of Brythern’s largest city.”
Hare dismounted Dungiven and handed his reins to one of his men. He walked over to them. “I ask neither forgiveness nor understanding,” he said. “I have to do what is best for Brythern. ”
Lynn and Crae both spoke at the same time.
“Well, that’s sweet of you,” she said.
“You did the worst for Brythern,” Crae said. He shook his head. “Look around you, Hare. Cai-sone is next. All the weapons that Tharp promised you, they won’t stop this happening to your city.”
Hare’s voice dropped. “You ask me to believe a tale of a doorway between worlds?”
“You rode through the earth shaking,” Crae said. “You even told us there was an earth shaking in Cai-sone. What more do you want?”
“I want those weapons.”
He turned on his heel, his long cloak swirling around him, and stalked off. Crae watched him go, his face twisted in anger. “Just give me my sword,” he said through gritted teeth.
Lynn bumped him with her shoulder. “Hey. We still have a chance,” she said. “We can still talk to Tharp . . .”
Her voice trailed off at the look on his face.
Someone gave a shout, and they turned to look. Tharp hurried out of the stronghold, followed by his men. “Speak of the devil,” she muttered and then looked again. “Holy shit,” Lynn said.
Along with the rest of Lord Tharp’s courtiers walked Mark Ballard.
They stared at each other in the wet courtyard. Mark’s handsome face was sullen, as always. He was dressed in camouflage, a pair of sunglasses tucked into the pocket of his jacket like he was in Special Forces. “Lynn!” he exclaimed. “I knew it. I knew it had to be you! God dammit—”
“Bahard—Ballard,” she said. “You’re Bahard? You tried to have me killed?”
He made a face, turned to Tharp. “See, this is exactly what I was afraid of. She’s not going to understand, and if she goes home, she’s going to go straight to the cops.”
Lynn boiled over. “Don’t you understand what you’ve done? The gordath is ripping up everything in its path. Over here, probably back home, too. Mark, you have to shut it down.”
He threw up his hands. “Oh Christ, not you, too.”
“Quiet!” Tharp snapped. He looked older than Lynn remembered, his beard coming in gray and lines drawn like a map on his face. Lynn kept back a disparaging snort. Yeah, war is hell, buddy. “I will decide when the gordath is closed or not.” He looked at Hare. “Who are you?”
Hare bowed deeply, gracefully. “I am Marai, lord vice governor of Cai-sone,” he said. “Bringing gifts and greetings to Lord Tharp.”
Tharp snorted. “The gifts are nothing more than my own belongings, misplaced. What do you want?”
“That, my lord, is for us to discuss out of the wind, I hope.”
Tharp looked around at all of them. Lynn could see him taking it in, his missing captain and tracker, a lost prisoner, and his pet gunrunner, facing off against each other. She threw a look at Bahard. His sulkiness had increased. He caught her looking at him and scowled. She almost laughed, so happy that they were no longer involved. What was I thinking?
“In,” Tharp said. “Everyone, even you, tracker,” he said, meaning Brin. They all trooped indoors.
They wedged themselves around the table in Tharp’s antechamber, Hare included. The Brytherner remained wrapped, though the room was warmer than the courtyard. Everything vibrated, and dust fell on the table.
Mark glared at Lynn. “Trust you to screw everything up. You steal the Jeep, too?”
“What are you talking about? What are you getting out of the deal, anyway?”
“None of your business,” he snapped.
“Land,” Crae said. “His merchant had him bring back rock and soil and told Lord Tharp where he wanted land.”
“Shut up, Captain,” Tharp said. “You are treading on dangerous ground.”
Lynn barely heard Tharp’s warning. Her jaw dropped. “Really. That’s interesting.” She looked at Mark. “Gold? Diamonds? What?”
If he was the Mark she knew, he wouldn’t be able to keep a secret.
Mark snorted. “Better than that, if Garson knows what he’s doing.”
She knew almost before he finished speaking. “Oil.”
He gr
inned. “Garson sent the samples out for testing. According to the geologist, we should start doing core samples someplace called Temia.”
God help her, she saw his point. Then she came back to herself. “The gordath, though. It can’t stay open.”
“Yeah, well, it looks like Garson’s gonna get some help with that, too. Once the oil companies saw the samples, they brought in scientists.”
“Do you honestly believe that they will one, believe in the gordath, and two, be able to keep it open?”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe, babe. It only matters that I get my cash and Garson gets his leases. Speaking of which . . .” He turned to Tharp. “You haven’t come through with the rest of the payment—the land grants and the money for the rest of the guns.”
“Neither have you, Bahard,” Tharp said. “Where is the next shipment of rifles and ammunition?”
“I told you, I can’t go back for the reloading supplies just yet. There’s crime scene tape all over the place. The police emptied the house, and it looks like Garson is laying low until the smoke clears.” He jerked his head at Lynn. “I told you, it’s her fault. She tipped off the police.”
If I had known, I would have. Lynn kept that to herself. No sense in making Tharp more worked up than he was. She settled on a different tack. “I hope the guns are worth it,” she told Tharp. “Because he’s getting the better deal, if what he’s saying about the samples is true.” She added, “And the gordath doesn’t blow everything to bits.”
As if to emphasize her words, the ground rumbled louder, and everyone held on to the table until it subsided.
Hare spoke for the first time. “What is this treasure that can be detected in rock?”
“Oil,” Lynn said. “Fuel. It’s worth a lot more than a bunch of guns.”
“Shut up,” Mark said. “Shut. The fuck. Up.”
“Oh, you didn’t want Lord Tharp to know that, did you?” Her anger had made her tightly focused, exhilarated.
“God, you fucking bitch. You know why I dumped you? You never could shut up.”
Crae jumped him from across the table.
They went down with a crash, everyone scrambling backward out of the way, Crae grimly silent but Mark yelling his head off. Tal’s men pulled Crae off; Lynn noticed that they hesitated for a few seconds before really trying and stepped in front of him when they succeeded. Tharp pulled Mark to his feet, his throat already turning red where Crae had throttled him. “You son of a bitch!” Mark said. “What are you, crazy or something?”
“That’s it, Wessen scum!” Tharp shouted. “You’re through here! Just like your lady, treacherous dogs all of you!” Crae shrugged off Tal and the others, still glaring at Mark.
Mark rubbed his neck and scowled back. He tugged his jacket into place. “I’m telling you, Tharp, you want the rest of the guns, you have got to come up with the next payment. Look, Garson might be willing to renegotiate on the land. But you have to show him you’re ready to deal in good faith.”
Hare spoke up from his corner. He had not moved during the tussle. “Lord—Bahard, is it? Perhaps Red Gold Bridge and Brythern and your merchant can come to an agreement on our rocks for your weapons.”
Lynn laughed. “Better watch out, Lord Tharp. I think Hare is moving in on your deal.”
Tharp looked as if he were going to explode.
Hare didn’t even hesitate. “I think negotiations will go better without an audience, my lord.”
Tharp looked at Tal. “Get them out of here.”
Tal saluted, and the guards pushed them out the door.
Kate lay on her stomach on her camp bed, eyes closed, willing the pain and nausea to go away. Her back was wet with blood; she could smell it, feel it matting her hair at her neck. The cold air only stung it more, but she couldn’t have clothes against her, so she shivered in her dank tent, her teeth chattering. All around her Tiurlin, Oriani, the other women clucked over her, their voices rising and falling as they asked her if she wanted something to eat, to drink, to wash herself. Somewhere the baby cried, and Tiurlin broke off from clucking with the others to alternately hush and soothe him. Go away, Kate thought. Just go away.
The tent flap opened, and someone else ducked in. Kate didn’t open her eyes.
She felt someone kneel by her, his presence big, masculine. “Well, Kett, what trouble have you gotten yourself into now?”
Oh God. Talios.
He turned to the others. “Bring me those bandages over there. That’s right. Have you boiled snow for washing? Good. Give me that now. This is going to hurt, chick, but it has to be done.”
The cleaning was dreadful, and she cried all through it. Oriani whispered something, and the rest of the women left, the baby’s wail trailing away, but the armorer’s wife stayed with them. On Talios’s orders she built up the fire in the brazier so the tent warmed up and put blankets against Kate’s sides so only her back was exposed to Talios’s ministrations.
When he was done, he sat back and sighed. “Someone will have to help her relieve herself, eat, and dress. Her bandages will have to be changed often.”
“The women will take turns,” Oriani promised. She stroked Kate’s hair, and tears leaked from under Kate’s closed eyelids.
“Good,” Talios said. He shifted again and stood. “You must heal, Kett. I need my apprentice. Do you hear me?” His voice sharpened. “In the meantime, I will have a word with the general. ”
From the moment the first lash fell, Marthen knew it had been a tactical error. The camp had gathered around silently, with none of the air of excitement that usually surrounded a flogging. A few men had to be held back, and the ostler’s boy had howled long and loud until he was hauled off by his fellows. As soon as the last stroke fell, Marthen snapped out a quick, “Cut her down!” and returned to his tent. He sat in silence and alone through the night. Usually his orderly lit his lamps and filled his brazier; that night no one came.
In the morning, when the council filed in for their war-making session, he saw how they averted their gaze. Saraval had a look of astonishment, Favor a gleam to his eye. Only Terrick carried his usual sour expression. It was soothing, somehow, to know that whatever the situation, Terrick would face it as if he had eaten something disagreeable.
“My lords,” Marthen said. He had planned all night how he would broach the topic. “The discipline of this army is my charge and mine alone. I know you would agree to this. The girl is a difficult case. She has no House but is not entirely common. I made my decision, basing it on our objective. We cannot afford to play at war.”
He watched them exchange glances.
“Your explanation is accepted, General,” Saraval boomed. “To war, then, sirs.”
“To war,” they said.
Too soon, Marthen thought. His heartbeat sped up. “I ask one thing first, Lord Saraval. As I said, the girl is Houseless. Yet I do not think she is common. We should find a place to settle her, the right place for her.”
They all looked around again. Puzzlement entered Lord Saraval’s voice. “I think we have broader concerns to contend with, General. You told us your reasoning, and we accepted it. Disposing of the girl must wait.”
Marthen looked at him, keeping his expression and his voice neutral. “I petition the Council to grant me the right to marry and representation on the Council and the government of Aeritan in exchange for my duties here.”
The lords’ faces were mostly blank. Only Terrick’s expression was one of dawning understanding. When he spoke, his voice rasped. “You mean the girl.”
“Wait,” Saraval said, still well puzzled. “The stranger girl? Marthen, you just had her flogged.”
Favor rushed in. “And as for any other women, all the women in my family are spoken for, General. I can’t think offhand of any one woman from any family of the Council who is free to make a match with you. I think, sir, that you should not shoot so high. There are many ways for a soldier to get ahead without Councilship—”
“Can you find any reason to deny my claim?” Marthen said, his voice soft again. Controlled. Now that he knew what he faced, he found he could face it with a calm heart. He turned to Terrick. “It solves your problem, at least.”
Favor said, “What?” Saraval quieted him, but he stared at Terrick, his forehead creased with confusion.
“I do not need your help to solve anything, General,” Terrick snapped. “You have far overstepped your bounds here.”
“General, the girl cannot help you become a member of the Council,” Saraval said. “High god knows I hate to say it, but Favor is right. This is not your path.”
“The girl is not a commoner. She’s of good blood.” Marthen nodded at Terrick. “Ask him.”
“What is he talking about, Terrick?” Saraval said.
Terrick answered as if the very question grated.
“I spoke with her. From what I can tell, her parents hold high positions in her country. She may be the equal of any of us, or more.”
“Then he has no claim on her!” Favor cried. “She should wed one of us! I wish to marry, and I think I would be a better match for the girl!”
Saraval pinched the bridge of his nose. “Favor, be still. Marthen, I don’t know about this. It seems a bit fishy.”
A commotion at the tent’s door caught Marthen’s attention. Talios threw back the tent flap, followed by Grayne.
“Get out, you foul abomination!” Grayne roared, his sword at Talios’s back. The doctor turned on his heel and faced down the lieutenant, looking down at the shorter man.
“Get off me, you superstitious bootlicker,” he said. He took a step forward, pushing the man out the door. Grayne backed up as if he were afraid to let Talios touch him, and Marthen was reminded of Grayne’s rustic views.
“Grayne, leave him be,” Marthen said. “Talios—”
The doctor swung back toward him, fury in his eyes. Who would have thought the doctor, with his tendencies, would have been so protective of the girl?
“You pig,” Talios said. “You coward. You animal.”
Gordath Wood Page 31
