Empire of Avarice (22 page)

Jorqel grinned. “That it is, Gavan. Keep the fires
going. I don’t want the men complaining about the luxurious quarters we’ve
provided them.”

Gavan chuckled. “Wonder how things are inside Slenna? They’ve
been a little quiet of late.”

“Probably running out of arrows. They will have been
advised not to waste any more, rather saving them for us when the time comes.”

Gavan agreed. “No more messages from our mysterious
friend within the walls then, sire?”

Jorqel shook his head. In fact, things had been very
quiet the past few sevendays. Even the insults shouted from the ramparts had
died away. Now the only sight they had of the defenders were the sentries
walking back and forth miserably, clouds of breath over their heads as they
went. Smoke from the chimneys died away too, as burnable wood was exhausted. Unless
they started using the walls or houses, then there must not be much left within
Slenna. The people would be going cold.

Jorqel took one last look at the frozen vista and
grunted. “I’m back off inside; it’s too cold to be out here for long. Replace
the sentries every half watch.”

He returned to the farmhouse and sat before the fire in
the living room. The farmhouse had been roughly divided into two areas; the
area used by the farmer and his family and that used by the Prince. Rarely did
either side visit the other. Jorqel always had two guards with him and the door
leading to the rear of the house was normally shut. Today the snow was being
cleared by the farm hands, and the farmer stuck his head through the door and
asked if the prince would like the snow cleared from the area outside his front
door. He accepted and soon the sound of people shovelling snow could be heard.

Jorqel sat at the table and went over the figures of
supplies his army was consuming. Efsia was a useful port. All the supplies he
needed were shipped to him from Kastan, and the paperwork also provided a sevenday
update on how things were going. The supply route allowed him to write to the
capital with updates, although how one wrote ‘no change’ in more than three
different ways became quite challenging at times.

Food was being consumed at a greater rate now the temperature
had dropped to below freezing, and the farms couldn’t supply his men with the
necessary food. So Jorqel requested food and equipment from Kastan, plus a bit
more for the farmers and their families just to keep them sweet.

It was incredible just how often belts snapped or straps
broke or spear shafts splintered. The upkeep for the six hundred or so men was
mind blowing at times. He studied the lists his captains had brought him the
day before, made some more calculations, and jotted more figures down on the
parchment.

The door opened. Standing there was the milkmaid,
rosy-cheeked, spade in hand. “Your majesty,” she said, stepping in, “I need to
check the chimney in case snow has blocked it.”

Jorqel frowned. The fire was blazing away quite merrily and
no smoke blowing back into the room. “I don’t think there’s any need….”

He didn’t get time to finish. The milkmaid flung the
spade at the nearest guard and caught the unsuspecting man flush on the face,
knocking him over. Even before he’d struck the ground she had pulled out of her
tunic a wicked looking knife and was standing over the prince, a snarl of
hatred on her face.

Jorqel reacted fast. He flung the ink pot at her,
splashing it across her face and eyes and she screamed, plunging down with what
she hoped was a killer blow, but Jorqel was already flinging himself out of the
chair and sliding across the hard stone floor, unfortunately hindering the
attempts of the second guard to deal with the woman. The knife bit into the
wooden tabletop, shaking it, and she tugged at it, one arm across her face,
rubbing away the ink furiously.

“Damn you!” she hissed as the second guard finally
vaulted the wild-eyed prince and advanced on the milkmaid. She abandoned the
stuck knife and plunged out of the house, pursued by the guard who was yelling
the alarm at the top of his lungs. Jorqel got to his knees somewhat shakily,
and checked his clothing. Nothing was amiss, so he got to his feet and went
over to the groaning guard who had sat up and was clutching his face. “Here,
let me help you up,” Jorqel offered gently, his voice low to conceal the
shaking up he’d received.

The guard gratefully accepted his help and was back on
his feet by the time Gavan and three guards came clattering to the door and
demanding to know if the prince was alright. Jorqel reassured them and passed
the groggy guard to Gavan. The man had a huge red welt on his face and it was
almost certainly going to be a multi-coloured bruise before long. Gavan came in
and shut the door, his face grim. “What the heck happened, sire?”

Jorqel waved at the knife, still embedded in the table. “The
milkmaid. It seems the guild contracted a woman rather than a man. We were
looking for the wrong type of person.”

“I’ll question the farmer and the others; someone must
know something about her.”

“Do that. I’ll go out and show everyone I’m fine. Hopefully
she’s been caught.”

But she hadn’t. She’d escaped into the countryside,
pursued by a group of men who gave up after running a few dozen lengths of a
stadium. The snow got too deep and she was as strong as anything, outdistancing
them. In the cold it was unlikely she’d survive, but Jorqel somehow believed
she would.

The men gathered round, anxious. News had spread that
their leader had been attacked by a pack of murderers or even the garrison of
Slenna had sent out a squad of hired killers to murder the prince. “Men of
Kastania,” Jorqel announced, standing on a handy stone block, “as you can see I
am unharmed. Our enemies sent one of their best agents to commit a deed foul of
nature, yet they have failed, another indication that nothing can stop us. Be
of good heart; if this is the best they can do, we have nothing to fear!” The
men cheered, but Jorqel knew just how close it had been.

Two men came around the corner dragging the protesting
farmer. Gavan stepped across his path. “What do you know of this?” he demanded,
taking the unfortunate man by the chin and pulling his head up to face him.

“Please, good sir, I know nothing!”

“Liar,” Gavan snarled. “You hired her, you must know
something about her. Where did you hire her, when did you hire her, on what
terms did you hire her?”

“Please good sir, all I know is she volunteered to come
with us from Slenna when we were allowed back home! I hadn’t seen her before,
but she knew all about bovines and answered all the questions I put to her at
the time! We were in a rush to get back to our homes, so I didn’t ask too many
questions as to where she came from!”

Gavan looked at Jorqel. The prince pulled a wry face. The
story seemed plausible. “If you are found to be lying, farmer, then I shall
burn this miserable place to the ground; do you understand me?”

The farmer nodded vehemently. Jorqel continued. “Furthermore,
farmer, remember that I shall be your governor once Slenna falls, and
everything you do will be determined by me. I can ruin you as surely as reward
you. So think long and hard on your future. If you have been found to be lying,
you may as well cut your own throat.”

“Your majesty, I absolutely swear by all the gods that I
knew nothing of her; perhaps one of the three farm hands may – they spent a
fair amount of time with her.”

“Then we will question those men. Very well, you may
return to your house.” Jorqel signalled to the guards to release him. “Go
question the farm hands, Gavan; take as long as you like. Use the barns to
interrogate them.”

“Sire,” Gavan smiled and waved a squad of men to follow
him.

Jorqel breathed in deeply, then slapped his gauntlets
against his thigh. At least his report to Kastan for this sevenday wouldn’t
read ‘no change’.

The land rose close to the border with Bragal and was
covered in deep snow. They had left the forests and woodlands of Frasia behind
them, and now climbed awkwardly up the rock strewn slopes that led to the pass
Lalaas had said was ahead of them. The beasts plodded on stoically, enduring
the blasts of icy wind that came at them from the east and chilled the five travellers
to the bone.

Theros called for a halt. He was exhausted and badly
needed a comfort break. They had been on charger-back for most of the day as
Lalaas had wanted them over the pass before dark. There was little precious
shelter on this side, he had told them, but on the other side there were caves
they could shelter in. When they had passed through the woodlands further north
they had chopped and collected plenty of wood, so there was not a problem with any
supply for fires.

“We go on for another league, then we’re at the top,”
Lalaas shouted above the noise of the wind. It was bitterly cold and being
funnelled down the pass which faced south east. The only blessing they had was
that as they were below the lip of the pass they weren’t getting the brunt of
it. That would come once they reached the top. But Lalaas knew that the pass
twisted south and the wind would then whistle over their heads, and apart from
the occasional eddy and swirl, it wouldn’t bother them as much.

The last few sevendays had been relatively comfortable,
despite the slow daily drop in temperature. They had passed through forests
where shelter was plentiful and game abundant, and had eaten well. Lalaas had
smoked and dried plenty of meat and it was now stored on one of the pack
beasts.

Then they had entered a more barren region and the climb
had begun. Now they were in amongst the mountains and feeling very exposed. Amne
had wondered why there were no villages, and Lalaas had explained that the
route he’d chosen was taking them away from any settlements as he didn’t want
anyone to see them, or ask awkward questions. The other three had sunk into a
world of misery and said little, even when they stopped. They had been used to
a life of comfort, sitting in offices, and this was a world so far removed from
what they were used to that they found it hard to cope. Amne was determined not
to do the same; she was a princess and better than these clerks, and she would
show it. So even though she was frozen to the core and as uncomfortable as any
of them, she didn’t voice her discomfort.

Lalaas was impressed with the girl; he’d always assumed
the nobility to be luxury loving creatures who disdained the rough life,
leaving it to the peasantry to endure. But here was a woman barely out of her
adolescence taking everything the rough ride could throw at them.

He nodded towards the top of the pass, now visible. There
were two large boulders that had fallen off a rock face above and this marked
the top of the pass. “There,” he yelled to make himself heard, “once past those
it’s downhill. Watch the wind, it’ll catch you! Wait in the lee of those
boulders.”

He let Amne pass and watched as the squirming Theros
followed, then the pack animals and the two clerks, hunched into mounds of
misery. Lalaas looked down the long slope to the plains below and took in the
whiteness of the snow against the stark black of the rocks. Such a contrast to
the greenery of the forests down there in the summer. Now they were bare and
leafless. He frowned. He imagined he caught sight of movement down there, far
away, but he couldn’t be sure. Anyway, snow was looking to fall again and maybe
it was that. Or a beast looking for food.

There again it might not.

Thoughtfully he turned his mount and trotted uphill to
overtake the line of beasts ahead of him. Amne had obediently halted behind one
of the huge boulders and waited for him. Lalaas reined in and faced the four. “Alright,
Theros, make it quick. Night is coming and I don’t want to be up here when it
falls. Down the other side are caves, a little way down. Now be prepared – once
we go round this boulder the wind will strike us full in the face. It will be
hard and strong. Lean into it. We will have to dismount and lead the animals on
foot as they may shy and try to bolt.”

Theros was gone a short while and returned from behind a
group of smaller rocks looking very relieved. Lalaas nodded and led his beast
and two pack animals on ahead. The wind moaned as it whipped through the gap
and suddenly Lalaas was battling it full on. Bending double he staggered on,
cursing the force of it. Behind him Amne was knocked backwards and fell,
shrieking in horror. Theros, behind her, helped her up and together the two
staggered into the full force of the gale, gritting their teeth.

Behind them the two clerks slowly made their way, one
holding three sets of reins, the other two. The animals shied at the wind but
the clerks stubbornly refused to let go, and tugged hard. Reluctantly the
animals followed, and suddenly the wind left them as they turned to the right
and followed the pass downhill. Lalaas puffed out his cheeks and turned to see
the others all emerge from the gloom, all shaken but still there.

“Good,” he said, mostly to himself. He waved them down
for another few moments until a yawning cave came into view. He led his three
chargers into the mouth and released them, busying himself with taking their
packs off. The animals would remain in the cave, especially as he began
throwing some of the cut grasses and feed he’d stored in a pack for them. By
the end of the next day they’d be out of the pass and down into a valley where
there was food.

One after the other the four other members of his group
entered the cave and collapsed gratefully, drawing in deep breaths and panting
hard. “Oh my,” Amne said between breaths, “that was terrible!”

“That’s the worst of the journey, ma’am,” Lalaas
reassured her. He looked at the three men. “Get the packs off and let the
beasts feed. Then we can start a really big fire. We’ll use all the firewood we
have. I want this cave to be as warm as a summer’s evening on the Aester
shore.”

The others smiled wanly, then with groans and mutters,
set to the task with frozen fingers. Amne saw to her equine, reasoning that she
ought to do her bit. She had no intention of being thought of as a useless
burden. If her family were to remain on the throne of Kastania, then they would
have to earn respect, and this would surely be one way of doing that.

Lalaas soon had the fire blazing away and the others
sorted out the blankets. The water pots were brought out. “I’ll collect some
snow to melt,” Lalaas said. “I’ll be gone a little while.” He left, vanishing
into the gloom and clouds of snow being blown about.

“How are you bearing up, ma’am?” Theros asked
solicitously.

“I’m alright, thank you,” Amne replied, warming her
hands against the crackling fire. She picked up a small log and tossed it onto
the blaze. Over the past few sevendays she’d got good at judging when the fire
had to be stoked up. Lalaas had more or less designated her to look after the
fires while the three men took care of food storing and animal husbandry. They
may not be outdoor types, but they would know a damned sight more about the
practicalities of living in the open by the time they completed their journey. “How
are you coping?”

“I’ll survive, ma’am,” Theros smiled faintly. “I’m
slimmer and fitter already, and look ten years younger than I did when we set
out. Maybe I’ll find a wife?”

Amne giggled. “Perhaps you’ll fall in love in Mazag?”

Theros grinned, then became serious. “I would caution
you, ma’am, to not lose your heart on this journey.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that man Lalaas; he’s paying you very close
attention. Be wary lest he tries to capture your heart.”

Amne was surprised; Theros wasn’t joking, judging by his
expression. “Lalaas has not done anything untoward, and I don’t think he will. Father
entrusted him to look after me, and that is what he’s doing. Theros, I’m
disappointed in you. Without Lalaas none of us would have made it this far.”

“All the same, do not get too close to him. It isn’t
something a lady of your bearing should do.”

Amne’s face went red, but Theros didn’t see it because
of the light of the fire, the darkness outside and the warmth that was already
upon her face. “Theros, we will not talk of this further. I’m not a silly
girl.”

“No ma’am, of course not.” Theros turned away, but the
pangs of jealousy he felt when she was with Lalaas just wouldn’t go away. If he
remained close to Amne, then he would send a letter to Kastan. Lalaas would not
remain in the service of the Koros after he had finished with him.

Lalaas himself had climbed to the top of the pass,
leaving the pot close to the cave entrance. His misgivings about what he’d seen
earlier compelled him to go back to the top of the pass and look back down. The
wind was as strong as ever, and the darkness almost absolute. He kept on
looking back but the wind made it impossible to see. No matter, he had a good
idea of what path to take. Sliding around the boulders he was at last out of
the shrieking gale and looked back down the valley.

The ice and snow flurries made it hard to see anything,
but after a few moments he thought he caught sight of a small pinpoint of
light, far away. A fire? The night had fallen upon them and he rubbed his eyes
and stared again, concentrating. The snow made it difficult but he was almost
certain there was a fire down there, maybe half a day’s climb away.

He scowled and turned about. They would have to be up
and ready to leave before the dawn.

____

The next morning they resumed their descent. The going
was slippery and Lalaas got them all to walk, leading the animals. A fall was
too much of a risk. The snows had come again during the night and progress was
hard, but they had gravity working for them and they made reasonably good time.
Better, so Lalaas thought, than anyone trying to climb the pass on the other
side.

At the bottom of the slope they came to a stand of
evergreen trees. They stopped and allowed the animals to chew on the
undergrowth. “Lady and gentlemen,” Lalaas announced, facing them all, “welcome
to Bragal.”

“We’re here?” Amne replied, her voice hushed.

“Indeed, ma’am. We passed into the province of Bragal a
short while back.”

“Now what?” Theros asked. He’d said little on the
journey after waking up, and Lalaas wondered if he and Amne had had a falling
out, since both appeared to be on edge, particularly on her part with him. It
wasn’t his business.

“The land settles into rolling hills. We will be passing
through western Bragal, well away from Zofela and the area the emperor will be
with his army. There are many villages in this part of Bragal, and the war
hasn’t touched many here. They are farmers, herdsmen and fishermen. If we keep
away from them we should be fine. The journey will be long and slow, because of
the winter, but we should eventually reach the Ister River and cross it close
to Bukrat. All things being well, it should be the summer when we get over the
river.”

“So long?” Amne said in dismay. “How will we survive
that long?”

“I’ll take care of that, ma’am,” Lalaas said. “But
before that I think it best I advise you all that we’re being followed.”

The others broke into cries of dismay and fear. “How far
back?” Theros demanded.

“Half a day, perhaps. They have to climb the mountain
yet.”

“When did you find this out, Lalaas?” Amne asked, her face
pale.

“Last night. I wasn’t sure, but I’m more than ever
convinced now that they – whoever they are – are on our trail. We must find out
who it is, and so I intend setting an ambush here.”

“Why?” one of the clerks asked.

“Why? Because here they can only pass this way, whereas
further into the region there’s plenty of space to go by other routes. I want
to know who they are and what they are doing following us.”

“They could be innocently travelling,” Amne pointed out.

Lalaas shook his head. “Not here at this time of year. No
sane person would try this pass. That is why I chose this route. If anyone came
this way in our wake, it would be because they are following us.”

“It might be father sending help,” Amne suggested.

“No. He told me to choose the route and wanted to know
nothing of what it was. Only I know the route. Whoever it is must be a tracker
or hunter.” Lalaas looked back up the slope. “They’ll be at the top of the pass
now. I estimate they’ll be here shortly before dusk. Time enough to conceal the
animals, set up a camp and prepare an ambush.”

“And what contribution are we to have in all this?”
Theros asked coldly.

“None whatsoever, Counsel. You’re a diplomat. You do
whatever you do and leave what I do to me. I’m a hunter. I’m hunting those
people coming down after us. Go deeper into the wood, make camp, but do not
start a fire. I’ll come and help you set it up, then I’m coming back here to
ambush whoever it is. Hopefully it won’t be too difficult.”

Amne shivered. Best she went to the camp with the clerks
and Theros. They set it up, using the trees as anchors for the tent ropes, and
had it set up in no time. Lunch was cold smoked meat and water. Lalaas promised
them they could light a fire that evening once he had sorted out whatever
needed to be done at the bottom of the pass. Then he departed, leaving Amne and
the men in the camp, worrying.