“King,” asked a young nobleman, watching my ragged wound. “What do you expect us to do?”
“I want you to keep your calm,” I answered. “And the rest of it, I shall have to figure out.”
“What do you mean?” the man asked. “He means to turn us out.”
Hal came to stand with the man. “He means to take your head. And ours.”
I shook my head. “I was a thief before I was anything else. I told him. I know a thief when I see one, and I know he would not have let us up here if he meant to see us out. No. We are a risk. He told me that many times. He knows I can escape, so he isn’t counting on taking my head. He knows a jotun.” I smiled at them. “Your heads are a different matter.”
“What, then?” the man said with a smile. “He hopes to deal with Balic. I heard it.”
“The man is a robber baron,” I said. “He knows fully well there is no negotiating with Balic. He knows it, though he pretends not to know anything. He is the sort of a man who plays cards, and he has told me they are strong cards, and it seems likely they are. He might hold all the best ones, doesn’t he? Should he will it, he can kill many of us. He can give us shelter or take it away at a whim. He saved many of us, so he is kind. He is a killer, and he can act as a king as well. He has plans, and he makes them sound sensible. All the cards, see? And yet, none can truly claim the game will not end in his defeat, if Balic wins. He will, if I die. So, in the end, he wants to bargain. I shall listen, and we will see how it goes. I think he wants to rule Alantia and have my blessing.” I looked up at the archers. “We need him on our side. And it will cost us a great deal.”
CHAPTER 8
The night came, and the calls of the wounded echoed in the valley. Their miserable wounds and terrible pain were a constant distraction in Saag’s Hold. Hel’s song, the shrieks of the dying, reminded everyone of the cost of losing a battle. Bodies were being carried out of those caves, and men and women who tended for the warriors would come out, looking sick.
“King Maskan?” a man called out, as I leaned on a wall. He was an official looking little man, who seemed to watch me as if I had been born of the rocks themselves. “Your wounds need attending to.”
I touched my throat. A jotun heals, and heals fast, from near fatal wounds, even, but the wound was still bleeding.
He went on. “Saag gives his word, you are safe. It is the truth, King. We do keep them, even in a land of a robber lord. How could we otherwise expect to survive?”
So, I waved Hal down and followed him.
He led me to the caves, through one filled with the wounded, and I passed them, looking at each and saluted who was awake. They mostly smiled back.
I was led to a separate, rough room with a bed, and a table with all kinds of supplies that one could use to heal a cow, or a man.
The small man nodded at the bed, and I sat down, waiting to be administered to. Soon, I heard boots striking the floor. A girl appeared, a thick braid gleaming with blood. She had an apron, something a butcher might wear, and she looked weary. She nodded and approached me, looking at my half-destroyed armor, and the sword I wore on my hip, the terrible butcher’s blade formerly of Bjornag, the Black Brother.
She lifted an eyebrow. “Off with it all.”
I sighed and proceeded to stripping the armor. It was damaged, badly battered, but the dverger might help to fix it. I was certain Thrum was alive and would either be marching to Dansar’s Grave or holding Hillhold still.
The armor came off easily, still magical and wonderful. My wounds made it a slow progress.
I finally managed to strip away the armor, and I sat on a chain skirt, and my thick leather pants, leaning onto my sword. The girl twitched to action and approached me.
“Carefully,” the small man, who refused to name himself, whispered, and she nodded.
“She knows how,” I said hollowly. “She’s had plenty of practice this night.”
“She has,” the man agreed.
She inspected my throat and then my neck and shuddered.
“It was a close one,” I said.
“Yes, King,” she agreed. “It was just an inch away. I shall give you medicines to aid with infection, and I shall stich this one up.”
“My back, and some other places have been hurt, and—”
“You are, King, bruised and battered all over,” she said with a small, pretty smile. “Like a king should be. They seem to be on the mend? So fast?”
I smiled. “I am lucky, since I find myself in terrible situations all the time. Tell me, is Saag ever so battered and bruised?”
The official man wrung his fingers. “He is a lord of archers. They do not—”
I scowled at him, and he clamped his mouth shut.
The girl didn’t answer.
“Where,” I asked her, “is the Queen of Aten?”
She shook her head. “She is no prisoner. She is … busy, and well enough. Is she the queen? Really? I thought she was a princess of some sort.”
“If she is hurt, I shall remember what you and Saag promised, and betrayed,” I told her.
She scowled, hesitated, and went on working, biting back a stinging comment. She made her way to my back and then began speaking. “Saag’s not a man to break his words. You can trust him not to hurt her. And you shouldn’t underestimate him.”
“Indeed,” I agreed. “I should not. I would like to trust him, but he doesn’t seem like the sort of a man who has done any oath keeping in his life. His family is a spawn of criminals.”
“You are a thief,” she said simply. “A thief. Thieves have codes. They obey the rules, because to not do so means you have nothing to fall back to.”
I nodded and flinched as her long, dark hair fell across my chest. She was half climbing on my back, to see my scalp. “A wound here, as well.”
“I am nothing but wounds, girl,” I grunted. “Do be careful.”
“You can always fly away, if you do not like this. It needs stiches.”
I rolled my eyes, and she smiled a bit.
“Tell me, King, what will you do next?” she asked.
“Apart from being thrown out of this haven? I will find a way to go forward,” I told her. “I had an army, and now, I do not, and I need to beat my foes here in the south and then again in the north, and gods only know what will happen to Midgard if I fail. The enemy is complex and many layered and has been preparing for decades.”
“Indeed.”
“There is no negotiation with it, come next year, or the decade after.”
“Oh, perhaps so,” she agreed. “But how would you beat the enemy?”
“Not in an open battle,” I laughed bitterly. “Not with what we have now.”
“No, that was foolish,” she said. “Your Queen of Aten claims a noble called Roger failed you all.” She looked bothered and shrugged. “Perhaps it was so.”
“I should have eaten his heart,” I said with sudden rage, cursing Thrum for not forcing them to stop the foolish attack. “They must learn … I must learn faster.”
“A rare, refreshing perspective.”
“I will need to find out what your man wants,” I told her. “I need to understand what he needs, because he does know there is no future in the land so beset with evil. None for the living, girl, no hope. And, yes, I am willing to deal with him, but not on an equal footing.”
She smiled. “My man?”
“I never told anyone but him I was a thief. Besides, I am not sure, but I saw you seated next to him,” I said. “Last night. You were raiding a caravan. I made it crash down a hill. You tell him what I told you. I’ll deal with him but not on equal footing. I’ll not listen to such suggestions.”
“You crashed the caravan,” she answered, a look of wonder in her eyes. “He is not my man, by the way. He is my brother. Here. I can do no more. Drink this. Dress up.”
She gave me a wooden mug, and it contained a drink rich in herbs and medicine, and I gingerl
y smelled it. She rolled her eyes and took it from my hands. Then, she drank some, grimaced, and handed it to me, while audibly swallowing what she had in her throat.
“Thank you,” I said.
“You might not feel welcome. It’s made of … well. As for Saag, you shall speak to him. He hoped you would be more desperate, but I shall let him negotiate with you. Yes, you are right. He is no fool, is he? He agrees, but he also won’t risk his neck for nothing.” She made a drinking motion.
I scowled, decided against demanding to know what is in it, and drank it down, and with her help, and that of the small, nervous man, began dressing in my ragged armor. When done, I turned to follow the girl, as she made her way to the deeper part of the caves. I followed, and after many confusing twists and turns in the well-lit maze, we climbed up a steep stairway, where water rushed down with gentle noise on both sides. She suddenly stopped, looked down at me, and gave me a hand. I took it, sure she was joking by offering me help, but she pulled me to the side, and instead of climbing up, she jumped to a dark hole and pulled me with her. She grinned, as we went through a hole, which suddenly widened into an almost palatial cave. It was filled with all kinds of loot and the best of gear and rich furniture.
Saag was sitting with his legs on a table, cutting his fingernails with a small knife. He eyed the girl with surprise. “What is it? You were supposed to speak to him and tell me what you think.”
She smiled. “He is willing to negotiate. You should be reasonable,” she said.
He grinned foolishly. “Nima is a fine one for making people talk and to give me an edge on negotiation, but it seems you are no fool after all. Perhaps you are only surrounded by them and that, of course, might make you look like one.”
I shook my head as I walked to him. The place was full of shadows, and I had no doubt the man was prepared.
I sat down on a stool before him, which was slightly lower than his. His eyes gleamed with small pleasure, and he gave an approving nod. “I think you and I might get along famously.”
“What do you want?” I asked him. “We are still not equal, Saag. Listen to your sister and don’t demand too much. I’m in no mood to haggle.”
He leaned back, licking his lips, resisting just such an impulse. “I heard about your speech to the people in the Pass. You have already promised your people what I so desire. You promised to make men into nobles, should they earn it.” He leaned forward. “I can get us four thousand men. That’s nearly a legion of archers. That is more than a large city might provide. They are well stocked, and while they cannot go toe to toe in a war with the legions, they can make life terrible for our foes in any siege, or ambush.”
“Us?” I asked. “You can get ‘us’ four thousand men.”
“Yes.” He smiled like a man selling a sick horse.
“You want to be more than a count or a duke. You want to be …” I laughed. “You want to be second to me.”
“The second House in the land should be my House,” he concluded, eyeing me with a nervous tick in his eye. “I will spend all the blood, of all the people who trust me in pursuit of that. Agree to that,” he said, and pushed a paper towards me, “and you shall have your troops, this place, and my influence over Alantia’s refugees. I can get you many, many men.”
“I promised,” I said bitterly, “that people who give their all for Red Midgard, shall be rewarded. A new nobility will be built out of those who shed blood for it. And now, you want an advance payment?” I nodded at the paper. “You want to hobble my rule with a secret you can use against me at any point. Can we not agree that I shall make sure your great sacrifice is noted and duly rewarded?”
“I also want Nallist,” he said, pushing the paper towards me again. “The people are not as worthy as you might think. They are all greedy shits.”
“Nallist,” I snarled, “must be taken before it is given.”
He nodded. “And I shall command the men I get for you,” he said simply. “I will be their lord.”
“Hah!”
He fidgeted and leaned back. “You have a point you wish to make.”
I nodded and tapped my finger on the table so hard it nearly broke after each tap. “I need your men . I don’t need a general. I don’t want another Roger.”
He blushed, and Nima shook her head, now holding a bow casually. He took ragged breaths and ripped a tangle out of his beard. He lifted a hand, as if to stave off an attack, and seemed to deflate. “I need to be seen. I have been seen already. They know I lead your men out to fight. If I do not show up in the battles to come, they will forget me. I must be present, at least.”
I rubbed my face. “Where is Quiss?” I asked. “I would ask the opinion of my Regent.”
A shadow moved. She walked out of the shadows. Two men were flanking her, swords in their hands.
“She is to be given back,” Saag said stiffly. “I have no demands for her or for hostages in general. I only want the paper. On it, you promise to make me the second House in Red Midgard. You will give Nallist to us. I need a high title. I want to be seen, if I may not command my men. After that, you get your army.”
I stared at him with smoldering eyes.
He pushed the paper for me a third time.
I pushed it back. “Is there a way to agree, without the paper?”
He smiled like a weasel might and nodded. I had walked into a trap.
He nodded towards Nima.
I was confused.
“This paper is needed, if you marry her now,” he said.
“What ?” I asked.
“Allies,” he explained. “Marriage will make the paper needless. She is pretty. She is smart. She is a strong fighter and will give you powerful, tricky children.” He frowned. “Wait. Can a jotun—”
“I know not!” I hissed. “How … you …”
“I can trust your word, if we are related,” Saag said simply. “Say ‘yes,’ King, and we are done.”
I sat up and glowered over him. “You think … I know not even your last names!”
Saag lifted an eyebrow. “Why, we are of the criminals, as you said it. We have no wealthy family, no past outside the gutters. We are, what we made ourselves, and what this war can make us. If you ask for our last name, then perhaps … Danegell?”
I rammed my fist through the table.
He got up and lifted it away, broken thing, brought another forth, and wiped it clean. He picked up the scroll and then laid out another, and another.
I pointed a finger at them. “You said no more papers are required!”
He smiled gently. He snapped his fingers. “I said that last one was not required. This one is. A formality for the records. Marriage is an official thing, is it not?”
Two men stepped forward from the shadows, both pale with worry.
“Law-speakers both, from local villages,” he murmured. “They drafted it. In in, Nima is your wife. She is also the queen.”
He would try to rule through her, I thought and looked at Nima.
She looked at her brother with stone-hard eyes, and I had a hunch it would not be so easy.
Then, I watched Quiss, and her face was at least as hard as that of Nima. She was looking at me with fury.
Saag noticed. “I take it your Regent shares more than your power? Alas, but the north needs northern men and women, and the Regent only offers you few hundred men of Aten. That’s what is left, I think.”
Quiss kept her mouth shut.
“She also offers us alliance with Aten,” I reminded Saag.
“So, marry both!” he laughed. “I hear Morag was not reluctant to share his bed, and the queen took it all in a stride! I guess that is a jotun’s way, I know not. We do it too. No law against many wives.”
“Or husbands,” Quiss said stiffly. “None.”
Nima smiled. She nodded.
Saag hesitated and spoke on hurriedly. “Yes, or nay.”
The law-speakers looked supremely bothered.
I held my face and wa
tched Quiss. She had a terrible, possessive look in her eyes, and her fists were clenched. The archers around her noticed it, too, and took steps back.
“I marry whom I wish,” I said bitterly, “and how many I wish. There is no one queen. There can be many, no matter whom I have married first.”
Quiss looked away and walked to the shadow. The archers hesitated, and one shook his head to the other. They stayed in the light.
Saag chuckled. “Well, of course. If you sire children with Nima, I care not who is the dearest after your heart,” he said. “You can have them with humans, eh, jotun? Everything fine with the equipment, is it?”
I shook my head. “I told you, bandit. I know not. I have not had the time to …”
He laughed and held his belly. He poured himself a goblet of wine and rubbed his face.
I cursed him and leaned over the papers. “Two?”
“Two. One for you, one for the records, when we again have them in Nallist and Dagnar. See, we can do all of it! Pen!”
One of the law-speakers brought forth a pen and an inkwell.
I looked at Nima, who lifted her chin, and tried to smile. I wasn’t sure she was keen on the deal at all. I signed both, and the law-speakers took them and began drying the ink, wrapping them in leather.
Nima and I avoided looking at each other. She massaged her powerful shoulders, and I fidgeted like an idiot groom.
Saag saved us, sighed, and massaged his neck. “Don’t be awkward. We don’t expect you to start producing offspring this very moment. It is a sad moment as well. My men are yours, and I am but a name, suddenly. Here. There’s something odd you should see. Call it a gift to celebrate your marriage.”
He pulled out a scroll from his jacket. He waved it around, like it was a magical artifact, before handing it to me. “A scroll from the south. As you know, bandits, robbers, pirates, and smugglers all have connections that run like veins in the shadows. Ever since Morag died, and your story came out, someone has been seeking you. It is hard to travel here now, and I hear this person, an important one in his own way, tried to see you in Aten when they dragged your arse under the Golden Chain and into the Lock of the Sea. He missed you then and has been frantic to find you. So, he sent a few of these to some of us, in case we stumble upon your highness.”
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