06 - Rule of Thieves (3 page)

“Why is that? It’s not as if they were left leaderless.”

The big man shrugged broad shoulders. “I’ve done my best, but I’m no Red Hand. He had a way of drawing people in and making them stay. But we took losses during the Skeltai war. Despite the Praetor’s promise of pardon, he never made good on that agreement for any outlaw but you. For the rest of us, our alliance with the Praetor ended with the war and Rideon’s hanging. After that, some of our people drifted away.” His tone lightened. “But not to worry. You’ll still see plenty of familiar face to welcome you.”

He was right. Many outlaws stopped their work around the camp and came over to greet me in passing. It was good to see I hadn’t been forgotten. I talked with old friends and admired the setup of their new camp. But I didn’t suggest any improvements. There was a time at the height of the Skeltai skirmishes when some of these men had been part of my inner circle and had looked to me as a leader. But Dradac was the captain of this ship now, and I was careful to show that I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“So, are you really back for good?” the giant asked when we were finally alone. He had brought me into the semishelter of a vast, leaning rock with a flimsy wall of netting covered in leaves.

“Yes and no,” I said, taking a seat cross-legged on the ground. “I’m in the province permanently, but I cannot stay in Dimmingwood. At least, not right now.”

It was a question I had been trying not to consider. It was so good to be back in old company that I found myself reluctant to introduce the tense topic. But I had to.

I said, “The Praetor treated the outlaws poorly after our help fighting the Skeltai.”

“That’s an understatement.” Dradac snorted. “He turned his back on our alliance and returned to hunting and hanging us. Not that any of us were greatly surprised. I don’t think anyone here really believed we’d see the promised pardon for our heroics.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Even so, I made a vow to serve the man, and I’m bound to keep it. There are innocent people the Praetor might punish if I fail to hold up my end of our bargain.”

I suspected Fleet wouldn’t identify with the description of an innocent. But Hadrian was certainly a good man who didn’t deserve to come to harm. And Terrac… Well, I would rather not find out what might become of my friends in the city if I betrayed the Praetor. He was not noted for his mercy.

Dradac seemed to follow my thinking. “Whatever happened to Terrac and your priest friend? Did they not return with you?”

“We separated on the last leg of the return journey. But they’re both safe in Selbius now.”

As far as I know
, I added under my breath. The truth was, I wasn’t sure exactly what circumstances either of my friends were in since my last messages from them. I would soon have to return to the capital city and find out.

Reminded of my purpose, I said, “Good as it is to see you again, Dradac, I have to confess I didn’t come here only to talk of inconsequentials.”

“I thought as much. You’ve come about the Skeltai threat.”

Remembering the burned corpses I had seen in the woods on my way here, I asked, “They’re really back then?”

“You didn’t know?”

“I only just encountered the evidence of a recent raid on a holding at the other side of Red Rock.”

He nodded understanding. “That was a bad business. It happened two days ago. Our bunch stayed well out of it, but Marik saw what happened and reported it to the rest of us. Seems like the Skeltai came out of nowhere in that way they do.”

I knew what he meant. We had discovered before that the Skeltai traveled long distances by means of a magical portal taking the form of a glowing blue circle etched in the ground. It was this that allowed them to move suddenly and stealthily between their territory and ours.

He continued, “The woods folk shouldn’t have stood a chance. But by good luck, there was a patrol of Iron Fists nearby, and they arrived to catch the Skeltai unprepared. The savages hadn’t expected resistance and were easily put down. The farming family was saved, but they took off scared and abandoned the place anyway. Afterward, some of our more daring fellows, er,
rescued
what possessions they left behind.”

“And the Skeltai were wiped out by the Fists? No survivors?”

“None who were glad to be alive by the time the Fists were done with them. Not that I feel any pity for that murderous lot after how they preyed on the woods villagers last year.”

It occurred to me there were some who would condemn the Dimmingwood thieves in similar terms, but I didn’t say so. And he was right. There was something especially disturbing in the Skeltai method of slaughtering innocent villagers. Thieving for survival was never their purpose. It was bloodshed they wanted, human lives to feed their barbarous religious rituals.

“Do you think the raids are going to be like last time?” I asked. “That the war is starting all over again?”

He ran a hand over his stubbled chin. “Hard to know what their plans are. But my guess is, your new master thinks they’re coming back in full force. Why else should we be seeing so many Fists patrolling the forest roads lately?”

“So this wasn’t the first time they’ve attacked recently?”

“There was one other a couple of weeks ago,” he answered. “Not a raid on a village, just another small holding. There were no Fists around that time, and the hold family never stood a chance.”

“What are the outlaws doing to combat these new raids?” I wanted to know.

He looked uncomfortable. “Not much. We look out for our own, and that’s getting hard enough now that we’ve got to dodge both foreign raiding parties and Iron Fists.”

It hadn’t occurred to me the outlaws would avoid involvement. I protested, “But we should be looking for ways to fight back! The Skeltai are invading our territory and it’s only a matter of time—”

I broke off speaking, suddenly remembering I had no right to issue orders around here anymore.

Dradac smiled, obviously following my thoughts and unoffended. “I’m glad you still think of the band as ‘we.’ I was afraid your arrangement to work under the Praetor would have made it you versus us.”

I said, “You should know better than that. But much as it pains me to speak in the Praetor’s defense, at least he’s doing something about the savages. I thought we learned in the last war the best means of defeating our common enemy is by uniting against them.”

Dradac scratched his neck. “Sounds a lot like what you preached at us last time.”

“It was Rideon who was reluctant to involve us then,” I said, leaning forward. “Are you going to make the same mistake he did?”

“What do you suggest?”

“Let me talk to the Praetor and negotiate another truce between you. The Dimmingwood thieves could again work as his eyes and ears in the forest, alerting him to Skeltai movements.”

“That didn’t work out so well for us before. He stabbed us in the back after we outlived our usefulness.”

“But we won the war and cleared the province of the raiders.”

He looked at me consideringly. “Maybe you’d like to talk to the rest of the band. Try and persuade them to your way of thinking.”

I hesitated. “You’re their captain. I don’t want to interfere.”

“Yes you do. You can’t help it. It’s all right though, I’m not disagreeing with you—yet. But you’ll have to convince the others, and me, that we won’t be sticking our necks straight into the noose by working hand in hand with Praetor Tarius again. I’m call them now to come and hear your plan.”

He started to leave me but turned back as if struck by a troubling thought. “There’s only one thing I want to know. Are we doing this for you or for the Praetor?”

That cut deep, but I tried not to be offended. It was a fair question.

“He didn’t send me here to persuade you against your own interests, if that’s what you mean. I would never agree to that. But I do serve him now, and if this is to work, I must act as your go-between. I can’t promise he won’t betray your trust, but I hope you know
I
, at least, will try to do fairly by you.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “That’s all I needed to hear. Good to have you back, Ilan.”

____________________

My talks with the outlaws carried on late into the night. It grew dark, and we gathered around a campfire under the stars. Not everyone’s concerns were as easily put to rest as Dradac’s were. Without authority to speak on the Praetor’s behalf yet, I was limited in what assurances I could give. And I would not lie to them. I would not promise more than was in my power to give.

The end result was that some of the men agreed to my proposal and others adopted a wait-and-see approach. Their support would depend on what payment and pledges I could extract from the Praetor on their behalf.

I went to sleep that night with a weight of responsibility pressing down on me and a desperate hope I wasn’t leading my friends into a dangerous bargain. I hadn’t expected to step into this role ever again. But as I curled up beneath a borrowed blanket and breathed the comforting scent of earth and pine, I knew defending Dimmingwood was worth any cost. My bow glowed faintly in the darkness beside me. I took that as a sign of agreement.

It wasn’t until I woke in the morning that I remembered I had yet to address the topic that had initially brought me here. I looked to discuss it with Dradac over breakfast, but he was off on some errand. I found myself approaching Fallon instead. She was new to the band, but she might have seen or heard something.

I caught up to her as she was leaving camp and told her I had questions for her.

She said, “I’m on my way out to check the traps.” Despite her unwelcoming tone, I detected a glint of veiled interest in her cool blue eyes. Her feelings toward me might not be particularly friendly, but she had listened to me talk last night and I sensed she was curious.

“I’ll come with you and we can talk along the way,” I offered quickly.

There was little she could say against that, and anyway, I gave her no opportunity to protest. I had just enough time to snatch up my bow and hurry after her as she stalked off.

“What do you know of a fellow named Martyn?” I asked, matching her quick pace as we ascended the hill and left Dead Man’s Fall behind. “He would have been here around a year ago, shortly after I left. He was about our age and dark-haired. He had a brother named Jarrod and a father, Brig, who was an outlaw until his death.”

At her noncommittal shrug, I elaborated. “Brig’s been dead many years. You wouldn’t have known him, although you may have heard stories. But I’ve learned his eldest son came to Dimmingwood and asked among the outlaws about me. Somehow, he got his hands on this bow Dradac and the others were apparently holding for me.”

She remained silent, but I continued to prod. “Martyn later tried to kill me with my own bow, but in the end, it was he who died. I’m looking for his younger brother now.”

“So you can kill him too?”

I was as startled by the question as by finally getting a response out of her.

“No. Never,” I said. “I wouldn’t kill a child and certainly no son of Brig’s. He was like a father to me.”

“Then you didn’t kill this Martyn either?” she asked.

“His death was no doing of mine. We made our peace before he passed, and I swore to look out for his younger brother, Jarrod. But if I want to keep my promise, I’ve first got to locate the boy.”

She considered that, and we tramped through the underbrush in silence for several minutes before she finally answered, “I met this Martyn you speak of. He came sniffing around camp, looking for information about you and about his dead father. We thought him a spy of the Fists and very nearly killed him. But when he mentioned who his father was, Dradac let him live. At first he claimed he wanted to join us, but I think that was only to get information. He stayed around for a few days, asking questions, and then suddenly slipped away, stealing that bow with him. I never expected to see the thing again.”

It was more than I had ever gotten out of the girl before. I kept silent, afraid she’d go quiet again if I interrupted.

She cast a sidelong glance at my bow. “It looks different when you carry it, like it’s where it wants to be. The others tell stories about you and the bow. They claim it’s an enchanted weapon and glows to life for you. But that it’s a dead, useless thing in the hands of all others. Dradac wouldn’t let anyone else handle it anyway after it was found in some stream. He said you had cast it aside for a time, but he was always confident you would return for it one day. But instead, it seems to have found its way back to you through Martyn. Perhaps it didn’t want to wait.”

I was cautiously silent on the subject of the bow’s magical properties and certainly didn’t mention how they mingled with my innate abilities inherited from distant Skeltai ancestry. At the end of the last Skeltai war, I had used my powers to transport surviving villagers out of enemy territory and back to safety. It was evident to all witnesses that something magical had occurred, but I was unsure how many had pinpointed me specifically as the source. Being in the Praetor’s employ might give me a degree of protection, but magic use was still looked on with suspicion by ordinary folk. It was against the laws of the province and carried a penalty of death if reported.

I returned to a safer subject. “What about Jarrod? Did Martyn speak of his brother or give any hint where he might be living?”

She lifted a lazy shoulder. “That I don’t know. You’ll have to ask the others. Now be quiet. We’re close to the hunting grounds, and I don’t want to scare away the game.”

____________________

When next I spoke with Dradac, he too remembered Martyn. He knew nothing of the younger brother, Jarrod, but promised to look into his whereabouts and send me word of what he discovered.

With that question resolved, I no longer had any excuse to linger. Much as I would have liked to stay, there was too much waiting for me back in Selbius. I spent one last night sleeping beneath the stars and the forest canopy and then had to say my farewells.

Before parting ways, Dradac and I arranged to communicate through a mutual contact in the city. That was important because I’d had an idea, possibly brilliant or possibly mad, during the previous night. Trusting my instincts, I set the plan in motion, asking Dradac to send an outlaw runner with a message to the neighboring province. I didn’t know what the Praetor’s reaction would be or how far I was overstepping myself by sending this word to the Swiftsfell magickers of Cros. But it was a risk I had to take.