by Rob J. Hayes
“The army doesn't concern us. Just those inside the city,” Thanquil interrupted.
“They'll be plenty o' men in there too, Arbiter,” Swift spat and lapsed back into silence.
Thanquil didn't care how many men were in the city; he was only concerned with one. Gregor H'ost, the head of the family. He had the answers the Arbiter needed; he had to have the answers. Thanquil had crossed the Forlorn Sea and half the wilds to question the man, to find out what he knew about the traitor in the Inquisition and know something he must or all this had been for nowt.
The question had weighed heavy on Thanquil of late. What if H'ost knew nothing? What if the God-Emperor of Sarth had sent him here chasing phantoms and wild suspicions and false information? Thanquil had gained the service of the most murderous group of sell-swords he'd ever met with the promise that after he had asked his questions he would kill H'ost. But what if the man was innocent? True, Thanquil was already wanted for the murder of two of the four members of the ruling council of Chade; why not add in the murder of the head of the richest family in the wilds.
Thanquil had already resigned himself to his fate. If he returned to the Inquisition without any proof of the traitor the very best that could happen to him was he would have his position as a wandering Arbiter removed. He would no doubt be sent to some backwater village to live out the remainder of his days telling ignorant villagers that the old lady with no teeth was not a witch and she hadn't cursed the harvest. The worst that could happen... well he knew just how unforgiving the Inquisitors could be.
Truth was the God-Emperor had chosen him for this task because he was expendable and right now Thanquil was feeling very expendable. He only hoped the crew hadn't realised just how expendable they were.
A group of soldiers on horses trotted up to them from the town. There were ten and to a man they were armed with long spears and long swords and heavy wooden shields. Each wore a rounded metal cuirass and a high helm but underneath was boiled leather.
“Business?” said the soldier with the bent nose, heavy brow and thick, brown beard turning to grey.
“None o' yours,” replied Henry in a sullen voice. The little woman had been quieter and even angrier since Jezzet had left her hanging from the bridge that crossed the Jorl.
“You would do well to quiet your woman before I do so myself.” The soldier seemed well able to match Henry's anger scowl for scowl.
“Jus' lookin' fer a place ta rest a few days,” the Boss said in a weary voice. “Pick up some more supplies. Then we'll be on our way.”
The soldier peered at the Boss. “You don't look so good. You ill?”
The Boss sat as straight as possible, which was to say his shoulders stooped and he swayed in the saddle. “Let’s see how good you look after takin' an arrow in the back. Jus' wounded is all.”
“Bandits around the Jorl?”
“As you say.”
The soldier grunted. “Stay at the Feathered Fool and ask ol' Bernard for the name of a healer. He'll point you good.”
The Boss nodded. “Reckon I might jus' do that.”
With that the soldiers turned their horses and trotted back towards the town. The crew followed at a slower pace.
“Guess they don't get too many visitors,” Bones said.
“Many and more and then some more on top,” Jezzet said. “H'ost may be a madman and a sot but he's no fool. Keeps himself and his town well defended. Hostown has never been sacked and he doesn't intend the first time to be on his watch.”
“Make for the Feathered Fool then, Boss?” Thorn asked.
“Aye.”
The crew were silent for a moment. “Should I find us a place closer to the gates? Just in case?” Bones asked.
“Aye.”
“Good.”
“Aye.”
The Boss was sagging in his saddle, his eyes half closed. It was late in the day and his walking in the morning had taken it out of him. Either that or the charm was losing its effect. If that was the case Thanquil would have to hope the Black Thorn could hold the crew together for long enough to get the job done.
Inside the walls Hostown was astir. Empty wagons were leaving, full wagons arriving. Slaves hurried to and fro all under the watchful eyes of their taskmasters, if any so much as missed a step the whip would crack. People gathered round a pot shop hoping for a bowl of brown stew and a heel of bread before going back out to the fields.
“Harvest time,” Jezzet said. “The whole town will be busy, preoccupied.”
They stopped once to ask one of the soldiers for directions to the Feathered Fool. There were more than enough soldiers to choose from, it seemed like half of H'ost's army must be inside the town and all of them were watching Thanquil and the crew.
The inn-keep seemed happy enough to see them. A jolly-looking fat man, red of face and possessing of at least three chins. His eyes were small, beady, and close-set. His nose was large and bulbous and his hair was a shaggy brown ponytail that made him look ridiculous but he smiled and ushered them all to a table.
“You will want food, yes?”
“Aye,” the Boss said as he sunk into a chair with a wince. “An' rooms. Two of 'em.”
“Our rooms only sleep two people, there are eight of you.”
The Boss was silent so Thorn answered for him. “We'll make do. Bring food, whatever you've got on an' drinks.”
“We have ale.”
“That'll do.”
“So what's the plan, Boss?” Swift asked.
The Boss' eyelids fluttered open and he glanced around the room. Thanquil noticed yellowing around his eyes, that didn't seem a good sign. “We'll stay here t'night. Come mornin' we'll go see H'ost. Arbiter has the plan.”
The entire crew and Jezzet turned to look at Thanquil. He smiled and waited for the inn-keep to bring the ales, the plan would go down better with alcohol.
“H'ost will be in his mansion.”
“His fort,” Jezzet corrected.
“We're going to walk right up to the main gate where I will demand an audience with H'ost. He's not likely to turn away an Arbiter. Once inside you will create a diversion among the garrison while I question H'ost.”
The table was silent, all members of the crew stared at Thanquil, some with their mugs frozen half way to their mouths. It was Swift who broke the silence.
“You never done this sort of thing 'fore have ya?”
The Black Thorn was shaking his head. “Ya plan is suicide.”
Even Jezzet was no help. “Might be we need to think on this for a couple of days. Come up with something a little better.”
“A little less insane,” Henry put in with a scowl.
Green was grinning from ear to ear. “I like it.”
“Shut up, Green,” Thorn hissed. “Boss?”
The Boss lifted weary eyes from the table. “Reckon it needs some work.”
“Be better goin' in at night,” Swift said. “Under cover of darkness. Nip over the walls, break in, find his rooms an' slit his throat.”
“How high are the walls?”
“Close to a hundred foot as I remember,” Jezzet said.
“I can climb that, easy.” Swift grinned. “Did I ever tell ya 'bout...”
“Without bein' spotted? With patrols above an' below?” Thorn shook his head. “What 'bout tunnels? A sewer like in Chade?”
“Oh Gods, please not another sewer,” Jezzet winced at the mere suggestion.
“Might be an option at least,” Thorn continued. “Worth lookin' inta.”
“He must leave his little fort sometimes,” Bones suggested. All eyes turned to Jezzet.
“Back when Catherine was in charge of the army he used to tour the camp once a week but now Constance is in charge... I couldn't say.”
Thanquil sighed. “I need to question the man.”
“Aye an' we need ta kill him,” Swift hissed.
“Get me alone with him and I'll do both.”
“What does the Inquisition want with him anyways?
” the Black Thorn asked. Thanquil held his tongue, he wasn't about to tell a group of sell-swords that the Inquisition might have a traitor in its midst.
“What 'bout poison?” Bones said. “Ya said he likes his drink.”
The argument continued for near on an hour. Swift claimed he could put an arrow through H'ost's eye from a thousand yards, a lie, they all knew, but he claimed it anyway. Bones suggested they pass themselves as a group of entertainers to gain entrance to the fort. Henry championed calling the whole thing off but was shot down when Green reminded them of the substantial reward for the job. Thanquil contented himself with listening and praying that the Boss would recover enough to put an end to the bickering and come up with some sort of plan. Back on the plains when they'd talked alone he claimed he was good with plans, claimed he could figure out a way inside and out again without raising suspicion but the man seemed uninterested, or more to the point he seemed incapable of following all the talk.
The argument ended when a score of soldiers entered the inn. They filtered into the common room but made no move to sit. The Black Thorn hissed at all the others to stay quiet.
“Arbiter Darkheart?” said the soldier with a captain's badge on his arm.
The crew fell silent. “Yes.” Thanquil responded, his voice cracking a little.
“Lord H'ost wishes to talk to you.”
Twenty soldiers or near as didn't matter, all well-armed and veterans by the looks of them. Thanquil doubted he could fight his way free even if the crew helped him.
“What 'bout us?” Green asked. Bones cuffed him into silence.
“You're all to come with us.”
The Boss stirred from his chair, as if seeing all the soldiers for the first time. His voice was weak, strained “What's this about?”
“Not my place to say.”
“Do ya need our weapons?” Green asked. Again the giant cuffed him.
The Captain smiled. “That won't be necessary. The Lordship just wants to talk.”
Thanquil stood first, Jezzet followed and then the rest of the crew. The Boss struggled to his feet with Bones helping him. All of them made sure their hands did not stray too close to their weapons. None wanted to fight their way clear here.
Outside another score of soldiers waited for them bringing their escort up to forty men, it would seem Lord H'ost was not taking any chances. The Captain instructed them to follow him and the rest of his men fell in all around Thanquil, Jezzet and the Boss' crew. They were penned in on all sides and even if they wanted to cut their way free they would have no hope against so many.
The Black Thorn walked close to Thanquil and whispered as they went. “They knew ya name, Arbiter. Don’t reckon that’s a good thing.”
“Just so long as it gets me face to face with H'ost,” Thanquil whispered back.
“Aye.”
The sun was dipping below the walls of the town as they made their way through the streets, even so there were plenty of people about to stop and watch the strange procession. Children were out in force, ever bolder than adults some of the little ones even took to marching next to the soldiers, mimicking the men, others danced about asking 'what they done?' or 'they fer hangin'? Can we watch?’
The only member of the crew who did not look nervous was the Boss, though, Thanquil reflected, that was because the man looked to be a walking corpse with one wasted arm over Bones' stooped shoulders for support.
“Captain,” Jezzet called out. “Could you tell me, is Constance back in the city?”
The Captain glanced back at her with a cruel smile. “Deadeye got back not three days ago.”
After that Jezzet fell silent, brooding. It didn't take long for them to reach H'ost's fort in the centre of his town. Sheer grey walls rose out of the ground and Thanquil decided Jezzet might have been shy when she guessed at a hundred feet. He could see faces peering down at him from the battlements high above and the round towers either side of the gate had ten arrow slits a piece. The gate boasted a heavy iron portcullis currently raised to allow their entry and an iron bound wooden gate on the other side also open.
Inside they found themselves in a huge courtyard that looked as though it could accommodate a thousand soldiers. Their escort of just forty men seemed small by comparison. H'ost's mansion stood in front of them. Once it may have seemed grand but after Lord Xho's estate in Chade and the Imperial palace in Sarth Thanquil thought it looked a stunted, drab building. He had expected more from the most powerful blooded family in the wilds.
The Captain turned to face Thanquil. “If you'll come with me please, Arbiter.” His tone made it clear that he was to escort Thanquil alone from here on.
Thanquil hesitated. “Of course. Jezzet, you will accompany me.”
The Captain narrowed his eyes. “The rest of your men will stay here. They are welcome to enjoy the hospitality of our barracks. We have food and ale.”
“Two of my favourite words,” Swift said but with none of his usual grin. “Got a whore or two in there an' all an' I may have ta kiss ya.”
The Captain eyed Swift for a moment, then grunted and turned to march towards the mansion. The Black Thorn caught Thanquil's arm before he could follow and pulled him close to whisper in his ear. “Do ya job, Arbiter. We'll do ours.”
Thanquil nodded once and followed the Captain into the mansion with Jezzet just a step behind.
The Black Thorn
An old grizzled sergeant with long grey hair that merged with his short grey beard led them to the barracks mess hall. Groups of soldiers were seated all around eating and drinking, jesting and laughing, gaming and gambling. Some looked up and gave them a queer look as they entered but most didn't even spare the crew a glance. It was a good sign as far as the Black Thorn was concerned, drunk soldiers may be more rowdy but they were also less useful if it boiled down to a fight. Though looking at the odds six against sixty did not fill him with confidence no matter how drunk the sixty.
The sergeant waved them to a free table and watched as they all took seats, the Boss slumped into his and his eyes sagged closed.
“Your southerner don't look so good,” the old grey sergeant said. He had good teeth, missing one of his canines but all mostly white and not too many gaps.
“Arrow wound... in back,” the Boss managed to say though his voice was thick and slurred.
“Bandits?”
“There are a lot of them around the Jorl these days despite ya fancy army camped outside,” Swift put in. “How long ya been workin' fer H'ost, old man?”
“Near four years. Used to soldier for the Sun's Sons; free company out of Toros. Weren't a lot of us, maybe three hundred in a good year but Lord H'ost bought us an' said we could join him for good an' all and get fed and paid an' have a home in Hostown. Cap'n Bart said we'd rather be free men than soldiers but then the Cap'n didn't wake up next mornin'. Been Lord H'osts since.”
“Look like ya seen ya fair share o' battle.”
The old veteran laughed. “Reckon I've seen at least ten's fair share of battles. Somehow managed to come out of all them unhurt. Bless the Gods.”
“Which Gods?” Betrim asked.
“Any that care to listen, lad. There's plenty of food an' help yourselves to ale. It's coming up to harvest festival time an' Lord H'ost is always free with the ale round now.”
The old, grey sergeant walked off to talk with some other soldiers and was soon sat down supping at a drink of his own. This would be about the time the Boss would tell them all to be careful, not to get themselves good and drunk but the Boss didn't seem to be in much of a condition to tell them anything. Betrim decided he should shoulder that burden himself.
“One ale a piece, ain't worth gettin' drunk. Might be we're needed fer that distraction the Arbiter wanted,” he whispered.
Henry snorted. “Seems ta me this situation has gone from hopeless ta shit storm. Look around you, Thorn,” she hissed. “We're surrounded by H'ost's soldiers. The Arbiter an' his whore are gone an' the Boss...
I say we cut our losses an' get the fuck out of here.”
Betrim couldn't say he didn't agree if truth be told.
“No,” the Boss growled through gritted teeth. “We stick ta the plan.”
“What plan?”
That seemed to confuse the Boss. “The Arbiter's plan. He'll do his part an' we all walk away with a million bits.”
Betrim didn't know what a million was but it sure sounded like a lot of bits. Worth a little risk of his life. Though this seemed like more than a little risk.
Truth was something was nagging at the back of Betrim's mind. Something about the mess hall didn't seem right. He looked around, staring at each table in turn, watching the folk drinking, laughing. It all seemed... quiet.
Betrim had been a sell-sword for the better half of his life and if there was one thing he had learned it was that if you put a group of men together with ale things tended to turn loud and messy. Here there were plenty of men and the ale was free and plentiful but the mood was sombre. Soldiers supped at their cups, talking in hushed voices. Every one of them was still armed and armoured. Then his eyes fell on the Captain, he wasn't sure when the man had returned from escorting the Arbiter but he stood by the entrance to the mess hall and watched the crew with icy eyes.
He was just about to warn the rest of the crew when a giant stopped by the table. The big man had short black hair, a squashed, brutish face with a heavy brow and a bulbous nose and a ruddy glow to his cheeks. His arms and chest strained against his doublet.
“Well stand up then, lets 'ave a proper look at ya,” the giant spluttered at Bones.
Bones pushed the chair away from the table and stood up. He and the giant stood as tall as each other but Bones was still stooped. Betrim guessed the bone loving giant had a good four inches on the ruddy cheeked giant.
“Well fuck me with a rusty spear, the boys were right. You are bigger than me.” The ruddy faced giant turned and shouted across the room. “You were right, lads. He's a damned bit bigger than me.”
Bones looked right uncomfortable but the other giant took no notice. “Never met another giant as big as me before,” ruddy face continued, “let alone one bigger. Your father must 'ave been a bear. Hah!”
