Mist-Torn Witches 02:Witches in Red (20 page)

The mists kept rushing as she was drawn backward, and when they cleared, she found herself standing in what felt like an underground chamber lit by a few lanterns. There were no windows and the walls were made from stone. A man in a long tunic with a heavy blue gem hanging around his neck stood behind a long table. He was counting money into a bag.

Captain Keegan, Corporal Quinn, and a handsome man with thick hair stood on the other side of the table. Amelie studied the third man for a moment. His expression struck her as . . . fragile, as if he could be easily hurt. He looked out of place in his dark brown tabard and armor.

“All right,” said the man in the long tunic as he finished counting. “That’s it.” He held out the bag and pushed a piece of paper across the table. “Captain Keegan and Lieutenant Sullian, please sign at the bottom to verify that you’ve accepted this season’s pay for your men.”

“We’ve done this before,” Keegan answered in an unfriendly tone, as if he didn’t care for the man, who was probably Prince Lieven’s treasurer.

Amelie realized the third soldier was Lieutenant Sullian, who had transformed into a wolf and been killed before her arrival in Ryazan.

Both Keegan and Sullian signed. Keegan hefted the bag of coins, and all three men walked toward the door. Amelie stepped aside even though she knew they couldn’t see her. She wasn’t actually there. She was simply witnessing an echo in time.

But why was she watching Keegan receive the payroll for his men?

The room vanished, and she found herself standing outside in the open air, in the courtyard of a castle. Soldiers in armor and brown tabards milled around, and she spotted four of them crouched down and playing a game of dice.

New voices drew her attention, and she turned to see Keegan, Sullian, and Quinn all walking into the open courtyard. Keegan was still carrying the bag of money with his men’s wages inside.

He stopped at the sight of the dice game, and Lieutenant Sullian’s face took on an anxious expression.

“Sir,” Sullian said, “we need to see the horse trader from Miltaná about those new geldings.”

But Keegan ignored him and continued watching the game. Amelie observed Quinn and Sullian glance at each other in alarm.

A moment later, Keegan took a number of coins from the bag he carried. “This is my own wage.”
Handing the bag off to Sullian, he walked over to the game. “Room for one more?”

“Of course, sir.”

The soldiers made room, and Amelie moved closer. She never played dice—as the games all seemed to depend on luck as opposed to skill—but she knew the one being played. It was simple, called Thrice Thrown. One of the soldiers functioned as the counter, and he didn’t take part in the game. The players all agreed on the amount of the bet first, and everyone gave him their money. Then each of the players took three rolls and whoever ended up with the highest count of their three rolls won all the money.

Amelie found it foolish, but she knew many soldiers who enjoyed the random simplicity. It took no thought and passed the time. Sometimes instead of money, they bet extra chores or night watch duty.

“Shall we say two silver pennies?” Keegan suggested.

The other players hesitated. That was a large bet for normal guardsmen, but one of them shrugged. “Why not? Tomorrow is payday.”

“Sir?” Quinn asked.

Keegan gave him a hard look. “Yes?”

“Nothing.”

All the players took their turns, and Keegan lost. He did have the second-highest total for his rolls, but it was a winner-take-all game. A few other soldiers noticed Keegan playing, and they wandered over. On the next round a few more joined in.

Keegan won the next two rounds, and his eyes glinted.

Then he began losing.

Two of the initial guardsmen dropped out when the newcomers began playing for higher stakes.

Lieutenant Sullian’s appearance of anxiety was increasing. Walking over, he touched his captain’s arm. “Sir, the horse trader? He’s waiting.”

“In a moment,” Keegan answered. “I just need to win my money back.”

Amelie had seen men like Keegan before. Once they started, they couldn’t seem to stop. They always believed they would win the next round of dice or the next hand of cards.

The courtyard vanished, and she found herself in the mists again, moving forward, just a little. The mists cleared, and this time, she was standing inside a stable. Keegan was leaning forward with his hands on knees, as if he was about to be ill.

“What can I do?” he said. “Master Terlone is coming tomorrow. He said if I don’t settle my account, he’ll go to Prince Lieven.”

Both Sullian and Quinn looked on in concern.

Sullian was still carrying the bag with the soldiers’ payroll. “Could you not give some of your purchases back to him? The pewter goblets?”

“He won’t take them!” Keegan snapped. “And I cannot give a season’s worth of wine back. It’s already been drunk.” He stood and ran his hands over his face. “The prince cannot find out how much I owe. I’ll be ruined.”

“You know I’d give you my wage,” Quinn said. “But I send almost everything I earn home to my parents.”

“And I owe for my own wine bill and that new saddle I purchased,” Sullian said. “Sir . . . if you’d only come away when I asked you. You wouldn’t have lost everything.”

Amelie began to understand why she was here now. It seemed Keegan had lost an entire season’s worth of wages in that dice game, and he owed a merchant for wine and other luxury items he’d bought on credit.

“Don’t mother me!” Keegan half shouted. “I have to do something. The prince cannot hear of this.” His voice was desperate.

“Wait . . . ,” Sullian began. He hesitated and then said, “Quinn, what about that game of Hard Tens you promised to deal tonight? Could you get the captain in? He’s better with cards, and he could win his wages back.”

Keegan stood straight, his eyes filling with hope. “Hard Tens?”

Sullian nodded. “With Prince Damek here on a visit, a few of his officers asked Lieutenant Tanner to put a game together, and Tanner asked Quinn to deal.”

“Can you get me in?” Keegan asked Quinn.

“No,” Quinn answered. “We’d have to stake you, and what if you lose?”

“I won’t lose!” Keegan’s features twisted into what looked like an expression of pain. “Please . . . please. I promise that if you help me this time, it won’t ever happen again.”

Quinn glanced away, as if he couldn’t bring himself to even look at his captain. “All right. I’ll speak to Lieutenant Tanner.”

The scene in the stable vanished, and Amelie saw
only a blink of the mists before they cleared and she found herself in another small, windowless room. This one contained a round table, with six men sitting around it. There were goblets and pitchers of wine on the table. Candle lanterns burned from small square tables in the corners.

Right away, Amelie noted Captain Keegan and Corporal Quinn. In addition, there were three officers wearing the black tabards of Damek’s guards and a middle-aged man in a brown tabard. She assumed he must be Lieutenant Tanner. Sullian wasn’t there.

Quickly, Amelie realized she’d not come in time to observe the beginning of the game. From the state of the table and the men, she guessed they’d been playing cards for a while. One of Damek’s officers and Lieutenant Tanner had the largest piles of coins sitting in front of them. There were almost none in front of Keegan.

Quinn was dealing.

Again, although Amelie had rarely played Hard Tens, she knew the rules. It was another simple game, though this one involved some strategy. Before play, all the kings, queens, and jacks were removed from the deck, leaving only forty cards.

The dealer dealt every player two cards, one faceup and once facedown. The players could glance at their facedown card and then make bets. After that, a player could stand with what he had or ask for another card . . . and more if he wished.

The goal was to come as close to a total of twenty in any combination, with two tens as the best possible
hand. Any player with two tens won, and in the rare—but possible—event that two players were dealt two tens, they split the pot of winnings.

The dealer’s job was simply to deal. He didn’t take part in the game otherwise.

Amelie could tell from the strained expression on Quinn’s face and the look of desperation on Keegan’s—along with his small pile of coins—that Keegan had not been lucky tonight.

A new hand was dealt.

Amelie walked up behind Keegan. He had a two of clubs showing. She leaned down as he peeked at his hole card: a ten of diamonds.

Men began placing bets, and by the time they were finished, Keegan had put in almost every coin he had left.

One of Damek’s officers raised an eyebrow. “Looks like a do-or-die hand for you, Captain,” he said dryly.

Keegan didn’t answer and nodded to Quinn that he wanted another card.

Quinn dealt him the ten of hearts. Keegan closed his eyes. He’d gone over.

As the hand finished and the men turned over their hole cards, Lieutenant Tanner won with a combination of nineteen. Gathering his winnings, he shrugged. “Hard luck, Keegan, but it looks like you’re out.”

Keegan’s forehead was perspiring. “No . . . wait. Just give me a moment, and I’ll be right back.”

Quinn looked up in alarm as Keegan fled the room, and a few of the visiting soldiers shifted uncomfortably.

“I do so pity a fellow who doesn’t know when to stop,” one of them said.

But not long after, Keegan came hurrying back . . . carrying the bag with his men’s payroll. He was going to bet with his men’s wages? In spite of her low opinion of Keegan, Amelie had not thought even him capable of that.

Quinn was staring at him as he sat down.

But Keegan glared across the table. “Deal the cards,
Corporal
.”

The small, dim room vanished, and Amelie was rushing forward on the mists again.

When they cleared, she was in a great hall with walls of stone and a hearth large enough to stand in.

Captain Keegan was down on one knee, on the floor with head bowed.

Amelie looked to see a muscular man with graying hair and a proud bearing sitting in a chair on a dais up above the captain. He wore a loose red jerkin accented by gold thread. Three jeweled rings on each hand adorned his fingers.

His expression was unreadable.

“I don’t know what to say, my prince,” Keegan said. “The act is unforgivable.”

Amelie’s eyes flew back up to the dais. She was looking at Anton’s father, Prince Lieven. He looked nothing like Anton, who was slender, with soft dark hair and narrow features.

“It is unforgivable,” Prince Lieven said, and his voice echoed through the hall. “In all my years, I’ve never heard of a captain gambling away his men’s wages. You’ve broken a sacred trust. How will any of them send money to their families? Once this news is out,
you will lose your office, and no man will ever serve under you again.”

Keegan’s body flinched, as if he’d been struck, but he didn’t raise his eyes from the floor.

Prince Lieven was silent for a long time. Finally, he said, “Though the act is unforgivable, it is not beyond repair. Would you be willing to do a small service for me? If so, I would replace your men’s wages, and no one need know.”

Keegan’s head snapped up. “A service?” he breathed.

“Yes, I require an officer to go north and oversee the silver-mining operation in Ryazan. If you would be good enough to take on the command, I will see that your men are paid.”

Keegan’s jaw twitched, and he went pale.

Amelie realized he must have known something of Ryazan, of the desolate place he was being sent.

“Of course, if you would rather not . . . ,” the prince said casually, as if it didn’t matter one way or the other.

“I’ll go, my prince,” Keegan said quickly. “With gratitude.”

He had no choice, and even he was wise enough to see that.

The prince nodded. “Good. The flow of silver is important to the welfare of our province here. You and Lieutenant Sullian may take a few days to prepare, and you will leave at the end of the week.”

Keegan’s eyes were hollow, almost as if he’d been given a death sentence, but it was still better than public humiliation and being stripped of rank.

“Yes, my prince,” he managed to say.

The great hall vanished, and Amelie was swept forward on the mists again, with a mix of thoughts churning in her mind. She expected to leave the visions behind now and find herself back inside Keegan’s tent, sitting next to Jaromir.

But instead, when the mist cleared, she was standing out in the open of the soldiers’ encampment in Ryazan, still an observer. What could she need to see here? Dusk was nearing, and looking around, she could see Captain Keegan’s large, new tent had been set up, but other elements of the camp were different, and several of the smaller tents were missing, as if Keegan’s men were still getting situated and settled.

Keegan and Sullian both came striding through the camp toward her as evening campfires were being lit. She could hear them talking.

“It’s not so bad, Captain,” Sullian was saying. “We’ve only been here three weeks, and I’ve already managed to sign on new miners. Production is up, and the prince will be pleased.”

Keegan grunted. “There’s no need to try to put a good face on this. We’ve been banished, and it’s my fault. But we won’t be here long. I’ll find a way to get us back to Castle Pählen.”

Sullian paused and lowered his voice. “Sir . . . some of the men seem to know
why
we were assigned here. I don’t know how they learned of it. Neither Quinn nor I would breathe a word, but I fear it may undermine your authority.”

“You let me worry about that. I can handle the men.”

He seemed about to say more when Amelie heard a choking sound. Both Keegan and Sullian turned their heads at the same time she did. A young soldier who’d been building a campfire suddenly began retching with force, struggling to draw in air at the same time.

“Guardsman!” Sullian called, hurrying over to help.

But the soldier collapsed, his mouth contorting in pain. His chest began to expand, and his hands began to change. Fur sprouted from his skin as his clothing began to split, and his fingers were turning into claws.