Authors: Raymond E. Feist
The priest rubbed something on the stump of his arm and intoned several different prayers, then had Tal drink a noxious-tasting beverage. Then suddenly they were back at the Anvil and Tong.
Days went by with no apparent change in the arm. Tal busied himself with training his recruits and building his army. The gold secured them an abandoned farmhouse half an hour’s ride out of the city that they’d use as a base.
He bought horses, weapons, supplies, and clothing.
Within a week it was clear which of the freed slaves would make soldiers and which were useless as soldiers.
Four of the girls and two of the boys were given menial tasks around the property, while the remaining twenty-four continued to train with weapons.
Tal had cautioned Masterson about leaving the girls alone, unless they invited his attention, and sent him to the city a couple of days a week to get drunk and spend time with the whores. Since arriving at the farm, Tal had established his chain of command. Quint was his deputy, while Baron Visniya was his intelligence officer. Within a few days, Visniya had messages on their way to contacts of his in Opardum. These were people he trusted, he told Tal, and he kept the language of the message circumspect enough that if Kaspar’s agents intercepted them, they would discover nothing useful. They would wait for replies before attempting to develop any intelligence about Opardum. Stolinko turned out to be an adept quar-termaster and a natural-born trader, so he often went to town to buy supplies.
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One morning Tal stood out on the porch of the farmhouse, watching Visniya teach the former slaves how to ride a horse. He absently started scratching at his stump, then pulled his hand away. It was tender.
He went inside and sat down at the table they used for meetings and started unwinding the bandage from around the stump. When he got it clear he looked at his severed arm and saw that a lot of the skin was flaking off. He picked at it a little and then noticed little bumps at the point of the stump. He examined it closely, wondering if Nakor’s priest friend had somehow given him something that was making it fester. He got as close as he could without crossing his eyes and saw that there were five distinct protuberances coming up.
He studied it for a long minute, then gave up and washed the stump. The soothing bath seemed to help the itching, but did nothing to alleviate the return of the sensations he had experienced for a long time after his arm had been severed, the impression of having fingers and a hand, and the feeling of “connection” that he should somehow be able to use those digits. He shrugged and returned to his work.
Within a few weeks he would start actively recruiting mercenaries. He had inquired about the difficulties he faced in building a private army and had been told that he could do pretty much anything outside the city as long as local officials were bribed. The power in the region was divided equally between the Lord Mayor of the city and his ruling council and the local Baron, Lord Reslaz. An independent navy, funded by everyone along the coast with an interest in keeping their own ships afloat, was _______________
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based out of Traitor’s Cove. When it came time to secure transport for his army, Tal would have to talk to them; they had an office and a representative in Karesh’kaar.
Tal had introduced himself to the Lord Mayor and offered him a sizable gift. He had done the same with Lord Reslaz. By the time he had left the Baron’s castle, they had consumed a great deal of wine and Reslaz had let Tal know that if he was looking for allies in some great undertaking, Tal could count on his support, for a reason-able split of any booty.
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Tal was sitting at the table pondering the situation when Quint entered and said, “You look lost.”
“I was just thinking. We’ve landed in a nation of pirates.”
Quint pulled up a chair and sat down. “There are moments when Kaspar’s desire to bring order to the region looks attractive.”
“It’s how he wishes to bring order I object to,” said Tal. “He regards people as disposable.”
“He wasn’t always like that, you know,” said Quint.
“I’m not trying to make excuses for him. He was always a hard man, even when he was little more than a boy; he could be beaten bloody by older boys in a game of ball and want to get right back in to give as good as he got. But he was never murderous.” Quint reached over for a pear from the nearby counter and took a bite. “I mean, if he had an enemy, he could be ruthless, but that was only with enemies. Now he just doesn’t care who gets hurt.” Quint shrugged. “I think it’s Varen. I think he’s the cause of Kaspar’s change.”
“Whatever, he’s got to be stopped.”
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“You’ll need more than that bunch of babies out in the pasture learning to ride.”
Tal laughed. “I know. I’m keeping them around mostly because I don’t know what else to do with them. I can’t get them back home, and I won’t sell them, and I would like to have at least a dozen or so men with swords walking around when I start to recruit.”
“When will that be?”
“A couple more weeks. I’m waiting for a message from up north.”
“From whom?”
“An old comrade in arms. Man by the name of John Creed. He helped me in that business with Raven. He’s smart, tough, and knows mercenaries; he’ll get us men who won’t run at the first sign of trouble.”
“I don’t know, Tal,” said Quint. “You’re going to need more than just a few mercenary companies. You’re going to need a real army, and I mean support, food, weapons, chirurgeons, porters, boys for the luggage, commissaries, engineers. You’re going to need horse, siege machines, and that doesn’t even start to touch on what to do about that evil bastard Leso Varen.”
Tal said, “You’re wrong. I’m only going to need a crack company of maybe three hundred mercenaries, handpicked and ready to ride at my command. The others, the engineers, the support, all that, will be provided by others.”
“Who?”
Tal shrugged. “Roldem and the Isles.” He shrugged again. “Maybe Kesh, Miskalon, Roskalon, some others might want to get involved to.” He hiked his left thumb over his shoulder, in the general direction of Lord Reslaz’s castle. “And we have no shortage of volunteers to help sack Olasko right around here.”
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“Finding people to take booty is one thing; finding those will fight before there’s booty to take, that’s another.
Remember, I built up Kaspar’s army for the past eleven years. It’s the best force in the region.”
“I know, and I’m counting on you to help me take it apart.”
“That won’t be easy, either in the doing or for me: a lot of those lads are friends, and others I’ve trained.”
“How many of those men would die for Kaspar?”
Quint shrugged. “I know a lot who would stand with me until the end.”
Tal nodded. “But how many would willingly stand against you? For Kaspar? Look, if facing men you’ve trained and served with is too difficult, you know that at any time you’re free to leave, Quint.”
The old soldier shrugged. “Got nothing better to do for the time being, so I might as well stay.”
“Good,” said Tal, standing up. “I’m going to head into the city and visit a friend.”
Quint grinned. “A lady friend?”
“Just so,” said Tal as he departed. Over his shoulder he said, “Don’t bother waiting up for me.”
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Weeks passed, and Tal saw the very best of the freed slaves turn into soldiers before his eyes. Twelve of them, seven women and five men, had turned into decent riders, adept with the sword and bow and able to take orders. The only thing he didn’t know was how they would react when blood started flowing. Two gave up on trying to serve and arranged passage to the east on caravans, hoping to return safely home. The others were put to work in support capacities.
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Tal noticed that several of the girls were establishing alliances with particular men and hoped he didn’t regret including women in his army. Jealousy could tear apart his little force before it ever became a coherent company. Still, what else could he do? Turn them over to a brothel-keeper?
His arm was starting to drive him to distraction. Two nights ago he had taken off the bandage to bathe the stump again and found it transformed. The five little bumps had lengthened and what appeared to be a tiny hand was growing on the end of his stump. It didn’t look so much like a baby’s hand as it did a tiny replica of his own before it had been severed. He wondered how long it would take to grow to full size, if it ever did. Given Nakor’s quirky nature, discovering the priest did a half-baked job wouldn’t surprise Tal.
By the end of the second month at the farm, Tal had recruited a core of seasoned fighters. He had decided to hire only the very best, both in terms of experience and reliability. He wanted a cadre of men around him he could rely upon, and knew that if things turned sour in battle, many mercenaries would throw down their weapons rather than fight to the death. He also knew that if his core fighters were the sort of men who could be counted on to fight until the end, those around them might be more resolute in the face of adversity.
It was midsummer, a week before the festival of Banapis, when one of the young former slaves ran into the farmhouse shouting, “Captain! Riders to the north.”
Tal stood up from the table where he had been reading messages and went outside. He looked northward and saw that a large company of riders was indeed approaching. By the time he could make out any details, he saw there were close to two hundred in the party. “Get everyone ready,” said Tal.
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The youngster ran off and spread the word. As the company approached, Quint came to stand at Tal’s side.
“Trouble?”
“If they keep riding in a file, no. If they spread out, they’re going to hit us.”
The column stayed in a file, and at last the lead rider could clearly be seen. Tal put his sword away and said,
“It’s all right. It’s a friend.”
Tal walked forward and waved his left hand. The lead rider urged his horse forward to a trot. He was a brawny man with a drooping mustache and an oft-broken nose.
When they reached one another, the rider reined in and said, “Tal Hawkins!”
“John Creed,” Tal answered. “You got my message.”
Creed got down from his horse. “Indeed. Though I’ll tell you it was delivered by the most irritating little man I’ve ever met.” They embraced, and Creed asked, “What happened to your arm?”
“Long story.”
“Well, your man said you were down here looking to build an army and could I bring some bullyboys from the north. I’ve got two hundred of the best I could find.” He motioned for his men to dismount, and they did.
Tal turned to his own people, and shouted, “Help them get those horses cared for!”
A dozen of his young mercenaries ran forward and started directing Creed’s men toward a large pasture area.
Tal introduced Creed to Quint and said, “What did you mean, the messenger was irritating?”
“He was a funny little fellow, looked almost like he might have been a monk or priest, but he was a demon with a deck of cards. Took most of my gold before he left.”
“Nakor,” said Tal, shaking his head. “Well, gold is the least of my problems.”
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Creed said, “Given how well you paid last time, I had no trouble getting this lot to come along. I hope that’s enough for you.”
“It’s a start,” said Tal as they entered the farmhouse.
“Before I’ve finished, I’m going to need a thousand more, perhaps two thousand.”
“What are you thinking of ?”
“I’m going to sack Opardum,” said Tal.
Creed stopped and stared at Tal, an expression of be-wilderment on his face. “You don’t think small, do you?”
“As I said, it’s a long story,” said Tal. “I’ll explain over a drink. Wine? Ale?”
“Whatever’s close.”
They sat at the table, and Tal fetched a wine bottle.
He poured drinks for himself, Quint, and Creed, and said,
“Kaspar’s got out of control, and there are two, perhaps three nations ready to jump him any day now. When that happens, I plan on being there for the kill.”
“Well, that’s all well and good,” said Creed after taking a drink, “but revenge doesn’t pay the bills.”
“Same as last time. Pay while you’re waiting and booty when the fighting’s over.”
“That’s enough,” said Creed. “I can get more men if you need them.”
“Send messengers. I want them here by the end of summer.”
“I can do that.”
“How many men?” asked Quint.
“A hundred or so down in Inaska; that’s where I was born, and I’ve still got friends there. Another two or three hundred from along the borders of the disputed lands. I can have them meet up at Olasko Gateway and sail here from Opardum. As long as no one there knows what the coming fight is, they should have no trouble passing through.”
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“It might be a good way to get some intelligence about what Kaspar is doing, too,” opined Quint.
“Is there one man in the area you can trust?” Tal asked Creed.
“I’ll see if I can find an old comrade of mine, Daniel Toskova. He’s smart and will keep his mouth shut. If I can get word to him, he’ll have a thing or two to tell. Last I heard he was up in Far Reaches. Getting word to him will be the trick.”
“Leave that to me,” said Tal. “I can get messages out there.”
Creed said, “So what is the plan?”
“I want at least five hundred swords here before we leave, and I’d like to have made contact with two or three reliable companies we can join up with for the assault.”
“That’s a full battalion,” said Quint. “The logistics will be a nightmare if you’re out in the field for more than a week or two.”