Once in the area, they had heard the gossip that a princess of Brogdadus and a wizard of the Order had been trysting in a field by themselves, and hit on the kidnapping scheme.
The trolls had initially been against it, being from the Alliance and having grown up fearing the Order. However, the frontiersman, especially once they learned that the wizard in question was young, were inclined to believe that the fear of wizards was mainly superstition and talked them into it.
Kidnapping a wizard was tricky business, but potentially extremely profitable. The Order itself would never pay a ransom, because any wizard sent to deliver it could instantly Bind the kidnappers. However, if one could manage to get physical power over a wizard, in a situation where other wizards were not present, the nearest lord would almost always pay any ransom asked, knowing that the Order would reimburse them, with a commission. In the Order's view it was far better to pay a ransom than risk losing a wizard to either kidnappers or a misguided rescue attempt.
Either a wizard or a princess would have meant far more gold than they could have got from the wagon they had hoped to steal, and so they had tried it.
"Will you kill us for it?" asked the man Wit had hit.
Wit shrugged. "I don't know. The Order is taking no interest or position on your fate, so it's in the hands of the princess. If she does kill you, it would be no worse than what happened to your friends, who were wiser than you, and paid for your foolishness with their lives."
The man looked at the ground and trembled, and Wit left him.
Wa'llach pulled him aside on his way back to Elayne. "I happen to be familiar with the town he says he's from, and I don't like the sound of this."
"How come?"
"It's…well, not a welcoming or prosperous place; but the problems that they have had have always been with dwarf bandits, not orcs, or so I've heard. It's well into our end of the frontier and the orcs never came there."
"Except when you led them?"
"Oh, no. With the orcs at my back we always tried for richer pickings than half-starved frontier towns. In any event, the orcs have gotten more aggressive than they've been in the last two hundred years, if they are coming that far into our lands."
"And it's also in the direction we're heading."
"Aye."
"Have you a suggestion?"
Wa'llach shook his head. "We might see if your lady would give us some soldiers for the rest of the way, in exchange for a chit excusing some of her house's dues—if you are feeling very nervous about it. Otherwise, we merely travel carefully."
Wit sighed. Excusing dues was one of the greatest powers of the wizards of the Order—and its exercise was far more scrutinized by the Order than any of the wizards' excursions into people's minds. If Wit excused the Brogdadus' dues in exchange for protection he did not need it would be a mark against him for the rest of his career; and the fact that they were lovers would give the thing an air of corruption. Had the princess been in a position to accompany them herself, Wit would have been sorely tempted to do it anyway. But, having read the medic's mind, he knew that, no matter what she said and believed, Elayne was in no condition to ride without running a long-term risk to her sword arm.
"No, I don't think that will be necessary," Wit said, "and, in fact, you'd oblige me by not mentioning it again."
"Aye. I don't think we'll run into anything that's beyond us anyway; you seem to have acquitted yourself quite well against those ruffians."
Wit went back to Elayne and told her what he had learned. "What do you mean to do with them?" Wit asked.
She shrugged. "Are they dangerous, in your opinion?"
Wit shook his head. "The one is a little bit of a cutthroat, by inclination. But I don't know that he is actually all that tough. The other is just very unlucky and stupid."
"I'll probably keep them in gaol until they are walking about, and then see if Reading can use them for something, at least until the spring. I'll let them go then, if they behave themselves. I suppose that they won't freeze to death or starve this winter: their scheme will have paid off."
"We are instructed to tell council lords that there is great power in mercy, as well as vengeance."
She smiled and shivered, as if physically trying to shake off the official aspect of the relationship between them. She moved herself over on the bed, and motioned to Wit.
He sat beside her and took his boots off, and she rested her head in his lap. He held her good hand, and they listened to each other's heartbeats until they drifted off to sleep.
Wit awoke to the lengthening shadows of the evening. The princess was still asleep, and he got up gingerly, so as not to disturb her. He relayed her instructions about the prisoners, spoke briefly to the medic, and commandeered the tray of food that a servant was bringing to them. He brought the tray into her room and sat with the sleeping Princess until she stirred. He cut her food for her, carried the tray away when they were done, and then climbed back in bed and held her until they both fell asleep.
Wit got up before dawn, but made himself lie still until the princess stirred. When she did, he kissed her brow and told her to go back to sleep and got up himself. He told the servant waiting outside their room to go away, got breakfast for himself and the princess from the cook in the kitchen, and sent an orderly to find Wa'llach and tell him to come by the princess' room in the late morning. He brought the food back to the princess' chamber and again waited for her to wake up before feeding her.
She tolerated Wit's attentions, but was now restless. She sent Wit out for reports from some of her officers, none of whom had anything to report, and then chided Wit for it. He convinced her, with some difficulty, that she did not need to put on armor and investigate any of the non-occurrences herself, and they were both somewhat relieved when Wa'llach showed up. He and Wit briefly discussed the arrangements for their departure the next day, which were simple.
"Somehow, amidst all the vastly important work I had to do, I found the time to make some things in the metal shop." Wa'llach took two iron pendants out of his pocket and placed them on the table.
One of them was a neat, exact replica of the crest of Brogdadus—a sword crossed with a mace, over a shield. Wit studied the other one for a long moment.
"That's an odd looking spider," he said after a while.
Something, which if Wit had not known the dwarf better he might have thought was sympathy, appeared in Wa'llach's face. "You don't recognize the symbol of your house?"
"What?"
"That's an Oct-o-puss, the sacred animal of the Aubrey. They live in the ocean and are among the wisest beasts in the world. Some of the smaller ones the Aubrey train and they are as faithful as a dog. Others are the size of cows, and bigger, and it is said that the strongest of the Aubrey can communicate with them, and learn the secrets of the deep."
Wit stared at the pendant. "I have heard of this beast. But I have no memory of seeing a living one."
Elayne smiled. "It's one of the oldest legends. In the old days before the Alliance, the King of Goodstien's daughter was considered the fairest woman in the land. Knights from all over vied for her hand, and it was feared that there would be a war over her. An Aubrey prince spied her walking on the beach, and decided to take her for himself. So he sent one of the Oct-o-pusses, and it crawled out of the waves and grabbed the princess with its…legs?"
"They call them tentacles," said Wa'llach.
"Well, the Oct-o-puss had her all wrapped in its tentacles, but the Lord of Spence happened also to be riding on the shore, and he fearlessly charged at the beast with his sword, and beat it back into the ocean. After that, the princess would think of marrying no one but Spence, and thus the Houses of Spence and Goodstien were united and the Alliance was formed."
Wa'llach smiled. "When Spence became king, one of the first things he did was open his ports to the Aubrey. Which is a little odd, considering that he met his wife when they tried to rape her."
"That is odd when you think about
it."
"It depends on how hard you think: if you don't always believe what you're told, it makes enough sense."
"How come?"
"Very fortunate that Spence happened to be on the beach that day. Wit, here, well he never knew his people, but he is a rather crafty sort, wouldn't you say? In their natural state they'll be even more devious. And while Wit can be quite foolish, he doesn't strike you as the type that would see a woman on a beach and decide that he must have her, come what may. The Aubrey, as same as everyone, have a tendency to fall in love with people with whom they are at least somewhat acquainted."
"And?"
"Well, any Aubrey will tell you, and any idiot can guess, that what happened on that beach was a collaboration between the Aubrey and Spence. Spence had visions for the Alliance, and knew that whoever allied with Goodstien could become a great power. But his own holding was a fairly small thing that bordered the ocean, and he had no reason to think that he would be able to win the princess' hand. Until a cunning Aubrey came to his shores. The Oct-o-puss was trained to attack the princess; and it was trained to bugger off as soon as it saw Spence."
Wit stared at the small iron creature after the dwarf left. The princess took his hand in hers. "I feel foolish taking it from you, if it's all you've ever seen of your own people."
"But you have no use for an iron pendant of your own crest." Wit pointed at a nightstand where there was a more detailed version of the same pendant, made out of gold.
She laughed. "I hardly think that gold suits me, but when your brothers and sisters are all dukes and shit, you get that sort of junk for your birthday." She kissed his hand. "Still, I'd rather have something to remind me of you. I'm in no danger of forgetting what my coat of arms looks like."
She was right; Wit found a largish pile of jewelry, all incorporating the same symbol, when she sent him looking through a dresser for a spool of leather cord. He cut two lengths off of it, hung the pendants on them, and then they tied them around each other's necks.
Wit was not surprised to learn that the princess' talents did not especially extend to bureaucracy, and that she had been woefully behind on the fort's paperwork even before he showed up. Worried that her restlessness was a danger to her health and his, he had the fort's books summoned and successfully got her to spend several hours going over accounts and dictating reports to him. As a reward, he let her throw knives at the wall with her left hand for a few minutes—but even this made her broken arm hurt after a while, so she made Wit throw knives at the wall and yelled at him for doing it badly, until she had tired herself out enough for a nap.
When they woke up Wit went and got dinner from the fort's kitchen and updates on the affairs of the day, and the princess took it in stride when he relayed to her that nothing had happened.
"Do let me know what happens to you, after your journey," the princess said once the dishes had been cleared and they were both back in bed holding each other.
Wit nodded. "I will."
"I can't promise that I will come to the capital," she said. "I think I will, but I can't promise. Let me know."
"I can't promise I'll be there anyway," said Wit. "You know, if this mess with the damn wall goes as badly as it might, we could both get sent to the frontier."
"Well, that would be nice, wouldn't it?"
The princess got up and dressed the next morning to see off Wit and Wa'llach.
"Take care of yourself," she told Wit.
"You too," said Wit. He climbed on his horse and they began the journey to Cohos. When he turned back to look, she was leaning against the fort's wall, watching them grow smaller in the distance.
21
On the platform edging the falls, Joti's ears rang. While the others congratulated those who'd been named as future Marshals, Joti had to move toward the center of the platform out of fear that his dizziness would cause him to fall over the side.
"Please, escort yourselves to the common hall," Loton called out. "Tonight, we feast!"
The warriors-in-training jogged up the boardwalk. Loton carried after them at a leisurely pace, engrossed in discussion with one of his assistants.
Joti planted himself in the chieftain's path. The older man rocked to a halt, regarding him quizzically.
"Sir," Joti said. "There's been a mistake."
"I don't have time for this. If you'd like to—"
"I should be allowed to train as a Marshal."
The chieftain's cheek twitched. "There was no mistake."
"Because I can't reach the Warp?"
"That is correct. Marshals are expected to achieve results and survive adversities that would prove impossible for normal warriors."
"I killed a dragon! How many of your warriors can do that?"
"And if being a Marshal had anything to do with killing dragons, then surely you would be allowed to become one. Now step aside."
Joti held his ground. "I can do more than that. Nobody's a better shot with a bow than I am. I can lead, too."
Loton grunted with what might have been laughter. "Do you believe you're the best archer the No-Clan has ever had? What good is leadership when so much of a Marshal's time is spent alone? You know nothing of what it takes out in the wilds."
"Then give me the chance to find out. Give me the chance to fail."
"That is not our tradition. You're young, and thus very predictable; the next thing you will say is 'Who cares about tradition?' Yet our traditions keep the No-Clan safe. It keeps my warriors alive. I won't compromise my clan because one boy doesn't understand the advantages of being a warden."
"Like what?"
"Marshals mostly travel alone. Weeks and months at a time. Seeking out questions that may not have answers, or that might turn out to be inconsequential wastes of effort. It's lonely work, and often boring—until you're fighting for your life. Yet as a warden, you will always have company. When you're sent forth, you will have a clear mission. Your work will always be meaningful. I think you will enjoy your role."
"I won't," Joti said. "Not when I know my talents have been wasted."
The chieftain set his jaw. "Why is this so important to you? Don't you understand that the No-Clan depends on its wardens just as much as its Marshals?"
"You spend all your time safe in the Peak. You don't know what it's like out there. The small, the weak, the lowly—they're nothing more than meat to be eaten, or targets to be smashed for fun. I know because I used to be one of them. And I will learn to protect them."
"A lofty goal."
"I won't settle for less. That's who my parents raised me to be."
"A warden of the No-Clan can do great good for the borders," Loton said. "You're being too hasty. Too harsh, too. Marshal Shain brought you here because she believed in you."
"She brought me here because she thought I'd become a Marshal. She was wrong." Saying the words out loud, something inside him cracked. "I'm done here."
"You made a vow, boy."
"And I'll serve it—down at Dolloc Castle."
The lines at the corners of the chieftain's mouth deepened into little canyons. "Do you understand what you're proposing?"
"When invaders come, it's Dolloc that throws them back, isn't it? When you're safe in your grotto, or waking in your bed to another peaceful morning, think of me."
He walked off. No one did anything to stop him. He returned to the bunkhouse, glad that the others were all off eating. Hurriedly, he gathered his few possessions, including his sword and armor, rolling most of them up inside a blanket.
"Young master leaves?" The voice made him jump. Brakk stood behind him; the servant had come in as stealthily as autumn's first frost.
"I'll be down at Dolloc from now on."
The servant gave him a smug look. "Did they catch Joti thieving?"
"I failed. Not good enough to become a Marshal." He stood, his stuffed blanket in hand. "I guess this is goodbye."
Brakk frowned, nodding slowly. "Brakk is sorry to hear this."
"Why? Afraid I'll turn you in now that I don't need you anymore?"
"Brakk knows Joti wouldn't do that. And that is why Brakk is sorry to see Joti leave."
Blinking, Joti headed to the wooden staircase down from the falls. Two wardens awaited him.
"I know the way myself," Joti said.
"I have no doubt," said the taller warden.
"You're not here to guide me. You're here to make sure I don't run away."
The warden said nothing. Joti swore and started down the trail that ran beside the river. He spent most of the trek stoking his anger and the rest of it nursing his self-pity.
They reached the rear wall of the fortress an hour after sunset. The tall warden called up to the guard, who opened the creaky gates, then came down to speak to the soldiers from the Peak. After a minute, the guard nodded. The wardens gave Joti one last look and headed back uphill.
"Too late to get you with a cohort tonight," the guard said. His name would turn out to be Gond. "You can sleep in the guard tower. Gods know it's quiet enough."
Joti thought he should feel wretched, furious, betrayed, or all three, but instead he felt empty. Hollow. Nothing. He slept until the shift change at dawn. They already knew he was better with a sword than any of the trainees his age, so they tested him against a boy from the cohort ahead of him. Joti won the match, along with the next one they gave him.
Next, they pitted him in three matches against the students two cohorts ahead. When he won those, too, the sergeants discussed letting him duel a couple of the proper soldiers to see if he belonged with them, but it was quickly decided he was too young for that. Instead, they assigned him to the cohort above him. They told him that if he worked hard, in a year, he could make the final cohort. Another eighteen months after that, and he'd be eligible to test for full soldier.
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