Chasers of the Wind (13 page)

The execution took place. There were no further deaths.

*   *   *

“It won’t work. Not today, anyway. There are patrols. And sentries on the outskirts. We’ll have to stay.” Layen had come to this distressing conclusion.

She had just returned from outside and was telling me the latest news. I was listening while I secured an arrowhead to a narrow shaft. A few other provisions were spread out on the table. Next to them were eight already completed arrows. Near at hand was an unstrung bow. As distinct from the straight longbow
(a bow that is composed of a single piece of material, usually wood)
that I had used on our last job, this was not as big and long-range. It was a composite bow
(a bow made of three materials: wood laths, horn, and sinew. Since it is a recurve bow, the tips of the limbs curve away from the archer when the bow is strung)
, smaller than the other. But in capable hands, it was at least as dangerous a weapon as its big brother. And without undue modesty, I can attest that my own hands are sufficiently capable.

“We’ll try to leave at night.”

“That’s unwise. These first days they will be on the alert. But when they realize that the peasants aren’t going to run off, they’ll stop guarding the borders of the village. We need to wait.”

“Layen, we can’t wait. It’s a miracle you’re alive after yesterday.”

“I was careless. A mistake I won’t repeat.” She angrily flipped her braid over her shoulder. “Are you afraid of our new guests?”

“Somewhat,” I replied reluctantly. “I’m more afraid of what that little captain said. An alliance between Nabator and Sdis. Do you realize now how they managed to capture the Gates?”

“I’m not an idiot,” she said, smiling crookedly. “Necromancers. And the Damned that have stood behind them for the past five hundred years.”

“It’s unclear what they want here.”

“The Empire used to be their country. They decided to pay it a visit.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you.” The latest arrow was ready and I set it next to the others. I searched for a new arrowhead and chose a broad serrated one. “You, my lady, may be in danger.”

“I scarcely think that the former Walkers will come here searching blindly.”

“And I think that a week ago no one would have thought they would decide to come into the Empire at all. I don’t know what the Damned want in our country. But it’s dangerous here now. We must stick to our original plan and head for Al’sgara. Joch has a debt to pay.”

“What’s that matter? A war is coming.”

“Giiyans always need money. The assassins won’t stop coming until we take care of the client.”

Layen shook her head. She understood my point, but she still questioned it.

“You’re as stubborn as a herd of thickheaded donkeys, Gray. We won’t be able to handle it.”

“And you put too much hope in the mercy of Melot, Weasel. As a general rule, trouble falls on one’s head unexpectedly.”

I could see that she wanted to growl at me, but she curbed her temper. Over the course of the years spent living together, she had come to realize that my reaction to that would be to dig my heels in and do as I wished. So she curbed her outburst and smiled soothingly.

“Let’s wait until evening, dear.”

“Let’s,” I agreed easily. “But nothing will change. We’re lucky we live on the outskirts. Otherwise we’d have to let some of these scum into our house.”

I took the news that the Gates had fallen and that enemy forces had encroached upon the Empire calmly. Of course, at first I hadn’t believed it. But I saw the Nabatorians with my own eyes and that meant they had somehow managed to pass through the Boxwood Mountains. That could only be done through the Gates, and it was unlikely that the garrison of the citadel had let their enemies pass through out of the kindness of their hearts.

As a matter of fact, I didn’t care at all who ruled. Whether it was the Emperor or the Damned, it was all one and the same to me as long as they did not harm me or my sun. If they let us live in peace then everything would be as it should. And all the rest, their private squabbles and jockeying for position—it was absurd. Who needed it? Other than storytellers whose only dream was to turn the reckless deeds of the latest dead “hero” into the next mawkish legend?

“Well, look who it is,” sighed Layen, glancing at the window. “All you have to do is think about rubbish and there it is.”

I saw that Mols’s foursome were entering the yard.

Weasel narrowed her eyes dangerously.

“Should I send them off?”

“No,” I replied to her quickly. “Let’s see what they want this time.”

Bamut and Midge were standing at the gate, while Whip and Shen walked up to the porch. We met them on the threshold.

Seeing us, Whip asked complacently, “How’s your health, Layen?”

“Since when are you so solicitous?”

“Since Mols asked me to conduct you safe and sound to Al’sgara. I’m making money on you.”

She laughed grimly. “An honest answer. I didn’t expect that from you.”

He shrugged his shoulders serenely. “We came here on business. The Nabatorians took away the inn for their ‘perpetual use’ and asked us to leave while we were still whole.”

“I marvel at their kindness. If we were in their place, we’d string up the outsiders. From far off you look like spies.”

“Melot spared us from the Gaunt Widow. We decided not to wait around until they recalled us. Their commander, regardless of his youth, is a brute.”

“And they took all our damn horses away, the bastards!” Bamut said with a malicious grimace.

I tossed my utak up into the air and caught it by the handle. Toss. Catch.

“What do you want from us? We can’t give you back your horses.”

“Can we lodge here?”

Layen and I didn’t even exchange glances.

I don’t trust them.

Neither do I, Ness. But they could turn out to be useful if we decide to leave.

It’ll be simpler without them. With them we’ll have to grow eyes in the backs of our heads.

It will be easier to get out of the village with them. Then we can try to get rid of them.

She had a practical way of thinking. She never hastened to abandon useful things. A smart woman.

We can’t try to get rid of them. Either we do it or we don’t. Are you sure you can deal with all of them, dear?

Yes.

All right, we’ll do as you say. But first let’s try to escape without their help.
“I don’t see any weapons on you,” I said, glaring at our uninvited guests.

“They told us to surrender them. Bamut got in a spot of trouble for his concealed crossbow.”

“Good. You can stay that way. You can use the southern half of the house. The entrance is in the backyard. I hope you won’t cause us any trouble.”

I attached threatening overtones to the last words.

“There won’t be any trouble,” Whip hastened to assure me. “Do you intend to stay here long?”

“We’re toying with that question,” I replied ambiguously.

“Just a thought for reflection. Today a Nabatorian patrol tried to stop two riders who were heading for your village from the direction of Al’sgara. From the conversation I heard, they put up quite the fight. They had to be shot down with crossbows, but they still managed to take down four soldiers. They were serious lads.”

“Are you telling us this for the good of our souls?”

“Just that daring fools are being drawn to Dog Green recently. We all need to get cracking. Even the Nabatorians will let someone slip through sooner or later. Or they’ll go after the villagers. I don’t trust their benevolence.”

“We’ll think about it.”

“As you will. Think on it. We’ll wait a day or two and then we’re out of here.”

“But what about your money?” asked Layen mockingly. “Would you really leave us here?”

“Money is good, of course, but life is far more precious. I lose my appetite near Nabatorians. And if our troops come suddenly then there will be such a stew that getting out of the cauldron might be difficult.”

“Only time will tell how it all turns out,” replied Layen. “Dinner is not for a while. Since you’re staying here you can fill the water barrels out by the shed.”

“So now I’m hired out to work around the household?” said Midge indignantly.

“Consider it payment for your lodging. Oh, and by the way, give me the knife.”

“What knife?” he snarled immediately.

She smiled. “I would never believe that the Nabatorians could take it away from you. If you want to live here then you have to do it under my rule. And I say no concealed knives.”

Midge frowned, about to start an argument. Whip scowled darkly at him. The diminutive assassin cast a dissatisfied glance at his commander but submitted to the unspoken order. He pulled his weapon of choice from under his jacket. He dropped it at my feet.

I picked it up.

“You’ll get it back when you leave. Don’t forget about the water. He who works, eats.”

*   *   *

Pork did not agree with the people around him. He thought that the arrival of the Nabatorians was a mighty fine thing and terribly interesting. Until now the village idiot had never seen so many armed men in one place.

He reckoned half of them were knights. Yeah. Also, he’d never seen anyone hanged before. And that had been very informative and entertaining. A thwack, and they began to so amusingly twitch their legs and croak. Then their tongues popped out and turned dark blue like a dewberry. Pork loved dewberries. They were sweet, just very prickly. It hurt. He should offer a prayer to Melot so that he would drive away all the thorns from the bushes and then Pork could gobble up the yummy little berries to his heart’s content.

And also, those hanged men, or rather just the soldier, had wet his trousers when he was already dead. He was probably scared of going to Melot and the Blessed Gardens. What an idiot. Yeah.

It was too bad, of course, about the thatcher. He never bothered Pork.… But then it was stupid that the people in the village said that the Nabatorians were despicable. They’re not despicable at all. They showed the loggers right away who was boss now. They gave it to them good, and they quickly became quiet as mice. Now they were chopping away at the forest so hard that chips were flying. They probably don’t want to be hanged. To turn blue and have their tongues pop out. And they don’t want to be drowned in the river. The soldiers are kind. And their commander is kind. And smart. Direct, like Pork himself. Yes. He’d instantly realized that the loggers were evil when Pork complained that they had ripped his shirt. And the commander had laughed and said he would punish them. Later. Somehow. He really wanted to watch them be punished. That’s far more fun than watching cows graze. Yeah.

The Nabatorians were not evil. And those who said so were idiots. Pork would go and tell his friend the commander what the people thought of him.

In the beginning he hadn’t hoped that the soldiers would become his friends. They seemed frightful and horribly mean. They pushed him about when he started telling tales about knights, but then they realized that he was very, very smart, and they began to talk to him. They were pleased to joke with him and they laughed so very, very much. They were happy to see him and they always asked when Pork would become a knight. They even promised to give him the biggest real sword and to teach him how to use it. Until then they told him to practice with a stick. He chopped down a whole sapling, imagined that it was a sword, and went off to rout old Roza’s turnips. You wouldn’t believe how she railed at him! She nearly threw her cane at him. And when he told her that the commander himself had given him permission she began to curse him, calling him a stupid idiot. Just who that old hag was calling an idiot, Pork wanted to know. But tonight he was going to tell Captain Nai all about the repulsive old crone. Let him know all about her. And then he’d hang the old slut together with the loggers. So that it wouldn’t be boring. And Pork would watch and laugh at the evildoers.

The cowherd suddenly remembered that it would be very difficult to hang the loggers now. He had seen them being chopped up into little pieces with his own eyes. It was the day before yesterday. Pork, as always, had been grazing the damned, lazy cows in the same old place not far from the standing stone. Or more accurately, the cows had been grazing themselves and he had been watching them build the wooden fort. It was a real fortress, even though half the stockade hadn’t been set yet. But they had already managed to build a tower, and an actual archer was sitting on it watching the road! He could shoot anyone he wanted. And he’d hit them, too. They were brave, these archers. And really good shots. Almost as good as Gnut from the village, just not one-eyed.

So anyways, there were the loggers and a few soldiers with them, building the fort, and just who do you think popped out onto the road from Al’sgara? Imperial soldiers. About forty of them. They were all on horses, screaming, waving their weapons around. They started hacking away at anyone they could get their hands on. Pork was actually horrified—they were cutting down both the loggers and the soldiers! They didn’t even bother to sort out who was good and who was evil. They needed to kill the loggers! But they could befriend the Nabatorians. They could meet in the evenings, chat about weapons and virgins, drink the innkeeper’s shaf. His shaf was so tasty! Every day now the Nabatorians treated Pork to it and then they laughed when his legs gave out. But he didn’t have any hard feelings against them. No. He understood that it was all in good fun. Plus, they were going to give him a sword soon. It wouldn’t do to get in a fight with them.

But the wicked Imperial soldiers didn’t get away alive. The commander of the village rode to the rescue with his soldiers. And every solider had an archer with him. They jumped down from the horses, and how they started to fire! Hoo-wee! And the one who was still sitting in the tower helped. Wow, how they rained down arrows on them all! They killed so many. Uh-huh. And those they couldn’t, the riders cut down. As they should. Serves them right. And the villagers considered them friends. What idiots, right?