Winter Be My Shield (6 page)

Had he been able to stare her down, Cam might have been able to winkle some more information out of her, but that blindfold was as good as a shield. His curiosity prickled him like a burr beneath his shirt, but this was not the time to try to tease it out of her. The questions he itched to ask —
who are you?
and
what are you running from?
— would have to wait.

Eloba was keeping a tally of the things they needed on one side of a set of waxed tablets and on the other she was totting up the value of the goods they had to trade. ‘Rhia, you're running low on some medicines? Is that right?'

‘Yes.'

‘Well, with those as well, this isn't going to be enough. We'll have to find something else to sell or trade.'

‘But we've
been
through this,' Brekan said. ‘We've already traded away everything of value we have. There's nothing left.'

Lakua raised her hands to the neck of her shirt. ‘Well, actually, I do have one thing.' She produced a golden brooch that had been pinned to an inner seam of her shirt. ‘It was Markhan's bride-gift. It's the last thing of his we have. Eloba's was stolen, back in the Raiders' camp, and Markhan died before he could replace it …' Tears welled in her eyes as she spoke.

‘Lakua, no, keep it. We can find something else.' Even as he said it, Cam knew Brekan was right. They'd been counting on the fur and meat of a winter harvest to see them through the cold season, but that was before the soldiers began pouring into the region, before Isidro had been captured and left an invalid.

‘No, Cam,' Lakua said. ‘I've held on to it because I knew the time would come when we needed it. If it weren't for you and Isidro, Markhan would have been killed months earlier. I know how sick Isidro is — we'd
have to turn it into coin sooner or later and where better to spend it than on the man who avenged my husband? I'll come with you and sell it myself, for Isidro's sake.'

Cam bowed his head. ‘Thank you, Lakua.'

‘Then I'm coming too,' Brekan said. ‘All the villages around here are crawling with Mesentreians. I'm not going to let my wife walk among them unprotected.'

‘That'd probably be for the best,' Garzen said. ‘I'm likely to stand out if I show my face and as far as I know the Mesentreians still want to hang me.'

‘Well,' Eloba said, straightening. ‘The three of you should take our tent. I'll move my gear in here for a few days.'

Cam nodded. ‘We'll ride out today, camp near a village tonight and do our trading first thing in the morning. That will give us time enough to confuse our trail on the way back, so if anyone does follow us, we won't lead them here. And maybe once we get back, Isidro will be strong enough for us to break camp and head east. Is there anything else to be settled?'

No one spoke: there was silence in the tent apart from the scraping of spoons on the breakfast bowls. Lakua swallowed her last mouthful and got to her feet. ‘I'll start taking down the tent.'

Eloba rose as well. ‘I'll give you a hand.'

‘I'll get the horses ready,' Garzen said.

‘Where is the wax tablet?' Rhia asked. ‘Cam, I will make you list of medicines Isidro needs.' Eloba handed her the tablet and stylus as she left.

As Rhia turned away to assemble her list of supplies, Cam turned his attention to the newcomer, raising her fingertips to her blindfold again.

‘Kasimi,' he said; she startled at the sound, turning her blind face towards him. ‘How long ago did you leave the army? Do you have any news of what's going on out there?'

She grew suddenly tense, her lips pressed together and her hand still raised to her face, but after a moment she settled them in her lap, as though trying not to show her unease. ‘The Akharians have taken the Bear lands. Some folk managed to flee ahead of the invasion, but not many. Not many at all.'

‘Are they moving quickly?'

She shook her head. ‘Not now. They're taking their time. Some folk said it's to accustom themselves to the northern winter before they met the king's men. They're digging in, too, building ditches and ramparts and making sure they have good fortifications at their backs —'

‘Digging? In winter?'

‘They have mages,' she said. ‘Cutting through frozen earth is simple enough for them.' Her tone was flat, as though mages were utterly commonplace, not creatures of legend or demons walking the earth. Before the Lord Magister had come to Ricalan, no mage had been seen in the north for nearly a century. Just how much exposure to Lord Kell had she had, to speak of them so routinely?

‘Do you know how far away they are?'

She drew a shaking breath. ‘They're close. Very close. I only know what I overheard, but I think they're expecting to meet them soon — in days, maybe.'

Cam drew a sharp breath. ‘They're as close as that?'

Kasimi nodded. ‘The captured scouts were given to the Lord Magister for interrogation and I heard they said one of the legions is preparing to march east.'

‘East?' Cam frowned. ‘That can't be right. They wouldn't dare strike past Severian's main force like that  — his men would cut off their retreat, and they'd be trapped in hostile territory with no supply line and no reinforcements.'

‘The commanders said so, too, but there's no doubt that's what the Akharians are doing. They seemed to think the Slavers are looking for something.'

Cam fixed his gaze on her. ‘You managed to overhear the king's counsel? Just who did you escape from, Kasimi? We won't sell you back to them, I swear it by the Twin Suns.'

She stammered then, and blanched, winding her fingers into a knot within her too-long sleeves. ‘It's not important. As soon as my eyes are better, I'll ride on. But if you are where I think you are, it's not safe to stay here long. The Slavers are heading this way.'

‘It doesn't make any sense. If it's slaves they're after, they'll have richer pickings near the coast and better loot, too …' Villages were scattered in the north, where the winter lasted longer and mountains and forest seemed to battle for control of the land. The longer growing season and
better farmland in the south supported far more people. The Akharians would probably try their luck anyway  — they'd investigate the tribal lands eventually, but Cam couldn't believe they would split their forces until the king's men had been beaten back.

‘Do the clans know any of this?' Kasimi said. ‘Or the local people? Maybe I'm wrong — I hope I am — but if I'm not, the Slavers will rip through the village folk like a hot knife through fat. Our people won't stand a chance against their mages.'

Winter was the time for warfare in the north, when packed snow and frozen rivers let men move more quickly than the bogs and sucking mud of summer. Fighting was a matter of strike and retreat, of ambush and traps set for men instead of beasts. The northern people were masters of it, but were the Akharian mages enough to tip the scales back? Ricalan had battled mages before and won, but it had come at a high price. And besides, it had happened a century earlier — all those who knew how to fight sorcerers were long dead.

If the rumours
were
true, the Wolf Clan would send men to help defend the region — but did they have any to spare after meeting the king's demand for warriors? As a last resort, the village folk could flee into the forests, scattering the stock and burning the houses behind them. They'd done it in the past, in the old days of war between the clans, but folk would suffer from cold and hunger, the old and the young in particular, and if the fighting lasted into the brief summer there could be famine to follow.

‘I don't know,' Cam said. ‘But when we reach the village I'll see what I can find out. When we get back, we can try a short journey to see how Issey fares. We ought to move on anyway; we're too close for comfort as it is. Is there anything else you can tell me?'

She bit her lip and shook her head, but she was still so tense that Cam had no doubt she was hiding something. Well, whatever it was would have to wait. Right now, keeping Isidro alive and his tiny band safe and fed was more important.

‘Cam?' Rhia looked up from her tablet and beckoned him over. ‘I want to be sure you know all these names.'

The list she had written in the soot-stained wax was alarmingly long, and Rhia switched to Mesentreian, her preferred language, to make sure he understood it. ‘These ones are most important,' she said, marking
perhaps half a dozen out of a list twice that length. ‘But get a little of the others too if you can.'

‘Rhia, tell me —' A movement caught his eye and Cam looked up. Brekan hadn't left with the others — he was still sitting in his place, scraping up the last of his porridge with exaggerated care. When he saw Cam's gaze upon him Brekan slipped out of the tent with a pointed sniff, leaving his dirty bowl on the spruce behind him.

Cam just shook his head. Markhan had been a good man and a friend and he'd thought Brekan the same, but after his brother died Brekan had changed. He had never forgiven Isidro for avenging Markhan's death when Brekan didn't dare try, and now that Isidro was ill … Ricalan had scant room for those who could not provide for themselves and Cam wondered how long it would be before Brekan started making snide comments about idle hands and useless mouths. When he did, Cam knew it wouldn't be much longer before it came to blows.

Rhia was still waiting patiently and Cam shook his head to clear it. ‘Rhia, tell me truly,' he said in Mesentreian. ‘Will Isidro recover?'

‘You mean will he be the man he was before? I'm sorry, Cam, but no. His injuries are too severe and his arm … It will never heal well.'

‘But how do you know?'

‘Here,' Rhia said, taking the tablet from him and reaching for his wrist. ‘I will show you …'

She pushed his sleeve up to his elbow. ‘A single break, here,' she laid the edge of her hand halfway along his forearm, ‘can be straightened and splinted to keep the bones still. But Isidro's arm is not broken once — they struck it many times …' With a chopping motion of her hand, she gestured to his wrist, his forearm, and up along to his elbow. ‘Two or three pieces, you might be able to put them back together, but what if you have dozens? The bones cannot be splinted firmly enough to hold them still and every time he moves they shift and grate. This is why he must have poppy. Pain will wear a man down and kill him as surely as any wound.'

‘So it won't heal at all?'

Rhia waved her hands. ‘It may, if he lies very still and has rest and good food. If it does, the bones will be crooked and they will ache always, and he will not be able to turn his hand. But it has been a month and they have not healed, so I do not think that will happen. If the bones do not knit, in time scars will grow between them and keep them from
rubbing together, but that can take years. He will have to wear splints always and he will be in pain until the scars form. He would be much better off if I took his arm.'

‘Took … you mean cut it off?'

‘Yes. If I amputate at the elbow,' with her index finger she drew a line across the crease of his arm, ‘it will heal clean and his pain will be gone.'

‘Amputate! He'll be crippled!'

‘He is already. He will never use the arm again. All it will bring him is pain.'

Cam scrubbed his hands over his face. The sun wasn't even up yet and he felt weary. ‘Have you mentioned this to Isidro?'

‘He would not let me say it, but Isidro is clever. He understands.'

Cam threw up his hands. ‘If he says no, then that's it.'

‘He is frightened. Torture costs a man a great deal and he is afraid this will mean giving up even more. Of course I will not do it without his consent. But unending pain will drive him to despair and he is already afraid of being a burden upon you. I know that among your people, it is considered to be an honourable thing among the elders to give one's life to the winter rather than become a burden on one's family …'

Cam felt his stomach turn to ice. ‘He wouldn't.'

‘Isidro is a proud man,' Rhia said. ‘If he feels he can still serve some purpose, I think he will not. But the pain clouds his judgement. If he believes himself to be useless and a danger to you as well …'

Cam sunk his head into his hands. ‘I have to think about this.'

‘That is why I am telling you now. You must decide what you think is best for him. Perhaps both of us can convince him, where one cannot.' She laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

Cam took a deep breath and raked his fingers through his hair. ‘I'll think it through.'

Behind her, he saw Kasimi, sitting with her head bowed and her back turned to them, the nearest to privacy that could be achieved when everyone lived in such a small and communal space. As his gaze fell on Kasimi's back, he idly wondered if she knew enough Mesentreian to understand a word of what they'd said.

 

Outside, Brekan glanced around to see if anyone was watching and pulled out the little bag hanging on a string around his neck. He
slipped the red-stoned bracelet inside and, whistling, strode across to the smaller tent.

Eloba met him in the doorway with her arms full of furs and her bag slung over her shoulder. ‘Here,' he said, reaching for the heavy bag. ‘Let me carry that for you.'

‘I can manage,' she said, leaning away from him. ‘Look, Brekan, don't give Cam a hard time. He's got enough troubles as it is and the least you could do is show the man a bit of respect.' She turned on her heel and stalked away.

Brekan clenched his fists as he watched her go. Cam and Isidro had trained as warriors since they were old enough to walk. They'd been born to it, whereas he and Markhan had grown up chasing after a handful of skinny goats and spent their summers scratching in the meagre plot of ground the Mesentreian settlers let their family have.