Ogran gave a careless shrug before continuing on his way to where his comrades sat with the crew for their morning meal. Serovek eyed him now, standing apart from the others as he usually did, a faint sneer on his mouth and his eyes constantly shifting from one person to the next without ever meeting their gazes.
Had he always possessed such a sly mien, or had Anhuset's suspicion influenced the way Serovek viewed him? Ogran had never given him or his commanders any trouble in the years he'd served at High Salure, and his tracking skills had come in handy numerous times. Serovek had brought him on this trip because of those talents. Ogran's surly manner was of no concern to him as long as the man didn't stir discord among the other soldiers or display insubordination. The tracker had done neither so far, though he obviously disliked Anhuset. The Kai woman, as brusque in her own way as Ogran, wouldn't care if some human disapproved of her, so her questions stemmed from something else, something more worrisome.
He didn't have the luxury of mulling over the idea long. A brief recounting of their adventure in Haradis and the encounter with the galla left him fielding numerous questions all focused on just how effective the canals were in keeping the thing and any of its ilk trapped in the city.
“They've trapped the galla so far. Who knows how long it's been lurking in there. No reason to think it can get out now, especially if there's some ghost or guardian making sure it doesn't get out.” He hadn't divulged his belief in the idea of Megiddo manifesting as the arrow of light. His men were already disquieted by the monk's breathing but soulless body.
“I thought you and the other four got rid of all the galla, commander.” Weson turned to look over his shoulder in the direction of Haradis, growing more distant with each bob of the boat. The shadow of fear lingered in his eyes when he turned back to stare at Serovek.
“So did I. So did we all. And I believe it to be true. This wasn't a galla missed but one somehow escaped. Either there's another breach between worlds or some idiot sorcerer trying to make a name for himself sneaked into Haradis, managed to summon one and ended up being eaten by the thing.”
Serovek conjured the last scenario on the spot, wishing that such were true instead of the possibility of a breach. His soldiers latched onto the idea with enthusiasm. He didn't blame them. It was a far less terrifying scenario.
The wagon driver, Klanek, suggested posting a warning marker at the city's edge on their return trip. “Maybe it would keep people out of there and from causing more trouble,” he said.
“A sign like that would start a panic.” Erostis punched a hole in the idea before Serovek could. “All it would take is one person to see the sign, make the usual wrong assumption, and set rumors flying. Next thing you know, Belawat would be at war with Bast-Haradis and no one clear as to how it all got started.”
Serovek was very glad he'd brought the sensible, cautious Erostis with them. “Agreed. And that brings me to the main reason for this meeting. We didn't plan to encounter a galla, but it’s happened. And I didn't expect to see a canal system surrounding Haradis, but I have. Circumstances have changed, and we have three tasks before us now. The first, to get Megiddo Cermak to the Jeden Order. The second, return to High Salure with instructions for Bryzant to find me an engineer. The third, get a message to the Khaskem at Saggara. I'll have to split our party three ways to get it all done.”
Numerous sputtered protests greeted his announcement. Erostis, spokesman by silent agreement from the others, spoke above the noise. “No disrespect intended, commander, but your plan doesn't seem all that sound. If Chamtivos wasn't still making a nuisance of himself in the Lobak Valley, I'd have no concerns, but it's still dangerous territory because of him. We're safer together as a larger party.”
Serovek nodded. “True, but our numbers also draw undue attention. We may only be eight, but we're eight, heavily armed, escorting a wagon carrying mysterious cargo. Two or three of us would be seen as no more than a family hauling goods or produce.”
“Then just send one of us to High Salure and one to Saggara,” Erostis argued.
“Or send the Kai woman home if you don't want attention.” Ogran's smirk gave his features a decidedly rattish cast. He thrust his chin in the direction where Anhuset slept. “If anyone is drawing attention, it's her with those wolf eyes and claws. Not to mention the teeth.”
Erostis closed his eyes, and his shoulders slumped. “Ogran,” he muttered, “Do us all a favor. Pretend you're smarter than my horse's backside and shut up.”
Snorts and smothered laughter disguised as coughs greeted his comment. Ogran lost his smirk in favor of a snarl, and his hand dropped to the dagger at his belt. The amusement died instantly, and the tension in the group rose fast as the rest of the men mimicked his action.
“Stand down,” Serovek said. “All of you.”
To those listening, his tone was no different nor his voice any louder than a moment earlier when the conversation was far friendlier, but to a man, they obeyed instantly. Even Ogran, though he glared mute promises of retribution at Erostis.
“Ogran is right,” Serovek continued, hiding a smile at their surprise. “Sha-Anhuset does attract notice when she's bare-headed and uncloaked, which has mostly been once we're camped for the night and not in a village.” He then cheerfully wiped away Ogran's self-satisfied expression. “Who among us has witnessed a Kai warrior in a fight?” All but Weson and Ogran raised their hands. Serovek pinned the tracker with an unblinking stare. “A single Kai with martial training, like sha-Anhuset, is worth three of us in combat.” He was pleased to see Erostis's, Klanek's, and Ardwin's enthusiastic nods. “Which means her value as a guard on this journey outweighs the risk of curious stares and a few awkward questions.”
Erostis resumed his role as mouthpiece for the others. “Then who do you wish to stay and who returns with messages to High Salure and Saggara?”
For just a moment, Serovek entertained the idea of keeping Ogran with the group traveling to the monastery, then thought better of it. He didn't relish the idea of burying bits and pieces of the man because he inevitably crossed Anhuset the wrong way one too many times.
“Sha-Anhuset and I will take the monk to the monastery. As Klanek's the wagon driver, he goes with us. Erostis as well to act as rear guard.” Ogran's glower turned even darker when Serovek continued. “The remaining four of you can decide between you who pairs up and who goes to Saggara and who goes to High Salure.” He gave a quick nod to Weson. “I could send one messenger, but as you said, a group is safer, and two are safer than one on any journey.” He glanced to where the captain stood. “We'll reach the next stop shortly after noon. Have your decision made by then and your gear packed. Sha-Anhuset will have a message ready to give to whomever goes to Saggara.”
He left them to confirm the time of the next stop with the captain and discovered Anhuset awake, seated against the railing. She huddled in her cloak, the hood pulled far forward to shield her face from the late morning sun. She held a bowl of the steaming gruel the boat's cook had served for breakfast and stared at it as if she'd spotted a horse dropping floating there. She brought the bowl close to her nose for sniff, gave a disgusted grunt and set it down on the deck as far from her as she could shove it. Her eyes glowed like bright lamps in the hood's shadow when she lifted her head to stare up at him.
“Humans eat the foulest things,” she declared.
Not one to let perfectly good gruel go to waste, Serovek scooped up the bowl and sat down next to her, where he proceeded to wolf down the bowl's contents, much to her undisguised revulsion. He set the bowl down between his feet and winked at Anhuset. “You missed out,” he said. “The boat's cook makes a fine porridge.”
“By all means,” she said in her driest tones. “Help yourself.” She nodded toward the group clustered at the stern. “I see you advised them about your plan. What did they say?”
Serovek shrugged. “The usual arguments about traveling in a larger group, reluctance for playing the messenger.” He chuckled. “I think th
ey've convinced themselves we'll be babes among fiends without them to guard us.”
“I'm surprised one of them didn't consider me a fiend.” She waved one clawed hand at him.
“Ogran was the first to suggest you deliver your own message to Saggara.”
“You'll forgive me if I don't find that surprising.” The yellow of her eyes swirled in countless shades from burnished gold to daffodil, mesmerizing Serovek. “I pity whoever has to pair with him on the trip, though not enough to suggest you have him stay with us.”
“The rest are used to him. They'll just ignore his sourness as usual.”
A frown line creased her brow. “Margrave, would you grant a request?”
His eyebrows rose. This was unusual coming from Anhuset. “Of course.”
“Send Ogran to High Salure. I'll have my message for Brishen prepared for when we split up, but I want someone other than him to deliver it.”
The thought had crossed his mind as well. He saw no reason for Ogran to shirk his duty were he one of the pair chosen to travel to Saggara, but if it eased Anhuset's mind to assign the task to someone else, Serovek had no issue. “As you wish. You may have to scrounge for parchment. I doubt the captain keeps a stock on-hand, but it won't hurt to ask. If there's none to be had, decide what you want to tell Brishen and repeat it to the men. Between the two of them, they'll memorize and relay it.”
Her deepening frown told him she wasn't thrilled at the second choice, but their options were limited, and the next village or town near a boat landing was another day's travel, and another delay if they waited to buy writing supplies before sending messengers to their destinations.
Anhuset finally nodded. “I'll keep it short either way.” She eyed the empty bowl, then Serovek. “I can't believe you ate all of that vile slop.”
He grinned. “And it was my second bowl.” She shuddered. “If you threaten the cook enough, he might be willing to part with some of the fish he's saved for the midday meal.”
“I'm not that hungry to go through the trouble.” The brief touch of her claws on his arm sent a pleasurable tingle across his skin. “I thank you for letting me sleep, though you exaggerated how I would have reacted to Ogran waking me.”
“I wondered if you were awake.” He'd suspected as much. Exhausted or not, she'd never be one to sleep deeply. “And I disagree. Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't have eaten his liver if he'd shoved his foot in your back to wake you.”
She wrinkled her nose, eyes glowing bright in the hood's darkness. “I don't want to look in your eye. It moves too much and is strange.” The tiniest smile played along her lips. “I've no doubt Ogran's liver would have tasted a lot better than that gruel you just shoved down your gullet.”
The crew and his men all turned toward Serovek at his laughter, some with puzzled looks, others like Erostis with a considered scrutiny that moved from him to Anhuset and back again. Serovek knew what they thought. What about this taciturn, intimidating Kai woman fascinated him so?
Everything.
While Anhuset composed her message, he spent the time reviewing the map he'd brought with him of the Lobak valley. The wagon and its precious cargo precluded leaving the roads for a shortcut through rougher country. Several of the paths marked on the map were hardly more than drover roads, and they'd be lucky if they didn't have to stop more than once to repair a broken wheel. Ogran, who hailed from this part of the Beladine hinterlands, had assured him before their trip that the wagon could make it.
“Some spots will rattle your brains, especially if the local folk have driven cattle or sheep through after a hard rain and it's dried since. We'll just have to go slow and nurse the wagon along. Once we cross the Dulgrada bridge, we'll be on a main road that's nearly as smooth as a royal courtesan's backside.”
Serovek was more worried about the bridge than the roads. The Dulgrada was a spandrel bridge instead of one of the more numerous suspension bridges. Sturdy, wide and built to provide safe passage for foot and transport traffic over the narrow but deep ravine that marked entry into the Lobak Valley, it provided a shorter, less circuitous route to the monastery. A safer one too where Chamtivos wasn't causing trouble. Serovek hoped the map, which showed the bridge, was still current, and they'd have an easy crossing.
By the time they'd reached the next landing, Ardwin, Weson, Ogran, and Jannir had their gear packed and had negotiated among themselves as to who would return to High Salure and who would travel to Saggara. Serovek had rightly guessed Ogran wouldn't volunteer to travel into Kai territory when another choice was available to him. Anhuset would be satisfied.
The four men disembarked, Jannir carrying the note Anhuset had written for the Khaskem on a ragged piece of parchment she'd bought from the captain for a sum equal to highway robbery.
With their numbers reduced to four and Megiddo for the remainder of the journey, and most of their road rations sent with the others, they were low on supplies. Feeling generous after making a nice profit on a bit of blank parchment and some ink, the captain gave them some helpful information.
“When you leave, go a half league west. It'll take you off your path a small ways, but there's a village with a decent market where you can purchase more provisions. I'll give you directions and the names of the better vendors.”
“Let's hope they sell onions cheaper than you sell parchment,” Anhuset said in the driest voice.
Once the captain left, Serovek tutted and gave a sigh of mock disapproval. “Not much in the way of diplomacy there, firefly woman.”
She shrugged and set to work packing the last of her satchels in preparation for disembarking. “I let him rob me and didn't eat him. That's diplomacy.”
He thanked the gods for the blessing of having her here. Her acerbic remarks made him laugh, made this journey less grim, and the dangers not so burdensome. She was good for his soul. He would miss her mightily when they parted ways at High Salure and she returned to Saggara.
It didn't take long after they traded the river and barge for land and horseback to reach the village the boat captain recommended. A small but bustling place acting as a hub for other smaller villages, the center square was crowded with people and stalls selling everyday goods and produce. What luxury items there might have been Serovek couldn't guess. His interest was only on resupplying their provisions to last until they reached the monastery.
He and Erostis were the only ones to travel into the village itself. Anhuset stayed with Klanek and the wagon just outside of the settlement. Before they'd left, Serovek asked her if she wanted him to bring back any specific fruit or treat for her. She'd shaken her head. “I'll eat whatever is there.” She scowled the moment the words left her lips. Before Serovek could tease about her statement, she pointed a finger at him. “No maggot potato things. I might as well eat dirt. It'll taste better.”
While they didn't have Anhuset with them to draw a crowd's attention, Serovek himself garnered more notice than he anticipated. Even garbed in the hard-worn travel clothing in need of laundering and days of road and river dirt on him, people had guessed a nobleman of importance was visiting. Vendors fawned over him in the hopes he'd be generous with his purchases. Some of the village elders invited him and Erostis to supper at their homes, and a yeoman's beautiful wife made it clear she'd be happy to introduce him to the village's other hospitalities.
Another woman tucked a bundle of dried herbs bound in ribbon into one of the satchels he carried along with the packages of dried fruit he'd purchased from her. “For your lady-love,” she told him with a smile and a wink. “And if you don't have one of those, you can always make yourself a nice cup of tea with it.”
They returned with bulging saddlebags. “We bought potatoes,” Serovek announced, grinning when Anhuset winced. “There isn't much available in the way of fresh stuff with everything just coming out of winter, and Erostis has assured me he knows how to cook these 'maggots' in such a way that you'll come to love them.”
She gave Erostis
an arch look. “Don't go to extra trouble on my account. I'm not convinced those things are meant to be eaten as food in the first place.”
They loaded and secured the cumbersome packs into the wagon. Serovek took the brief time to scan his map and the route they'd take to the bridge. Movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he glanced up to spot Anhuset pausing before bending down to stare at something on the ground. Whatever she dropped, she scooped up and with a quick sleight of hand, tucked it away in her tunic.
He would have thought nothing of it except for the arrested, almost guilty expression on her face when she did it. When they were once more on the road, he considered asking her but thought better of it. It was one thing to inquire out of concern, another to pry.
For this leg of the journey, Erostis rode in the front next to Klanek where the two swapped stories of various escapades when they were children that made Serovek pity their parents. He rode behind the wagon next to Anhuset, content enjoy the quiet.
She surprised him when she broke the companionable silence with a question. “Why is the Lobak valley so desired by this Chamtivos?”
“Because owning land is possessing power. Owning a great deal of land is having a great deal of power, but you must fight hard to keep it. Chamtivos was the youngest son of a minor Beladine nobleman. To keep the holding intact, the lord bequeathed all of it to the eldest son, to be inherited upon his death.”
She gave a soft whistle. “I'm guessing whatever brotherly affection existed until then vanished.”
“That's putting it mildly,” he replied. “What Chamtivos lacked in status, he made up for in ambition and ruthlessness. He killed his father, his brothers, and their progeny so there'd be no claim but his to the holding. According to him, the hard hand of fate had dealt harshly with his family. A drowning, hunting accidents, an unfortunate fall from a cliff, a difficult childbirth. He then traveled to the capital and petitioned the king not only for recognition of his right to the fiefdom but to the lands bordering the Jeden monastery and beyond.”
The Ippos King: Wraith Kings Book Three Page 15
