Eight? the innkeeper objected in a shrill voice.
Take it or leave itand dont be all day about it. Well need a little daylight to find the Commissioner.
Youre a hard man, Sergeant.
Nobody ever promised you that life would be easy, did they? Ulath counted out some coins and jingled them in his hand. Do you want these or not?
After a moment of agonized indecision, the innkeeper reluctantly took the coins.
You took all the fun out of that, you know, Tynian complained as the two went back out to the stable to see to their horses.
Im thirsty, Ulath shrugged. Besides, a couple of ex-soldiers would know in advance exactly how much they were willing to pay, wouldnt they? He scratched at his face. I wonder if Sir Gerda would mind if I shaved off his beard, he mused. This thing itches.
Its not really his face, Ulath. Its still yours. Youve just been modified to look like him.
Yes, but when the ladies switch our faces back, theyll use this one as a model for Gerda, and when theyre done, hell be standing there with a naked face. He might object.
They unsaddled their horses put them into stalls and went on into the taproom. Tamul drinking establishments were arranged differently from those owned by Elenes. The tables were much lower, for one thing, and here the room was heated by a porcelain stove rather than a fireplace. The stove smoked as badly as a fireplace, though. Wine was served in delicate little cups and ale in cheap tin tankards. The smell was much the same, however. They were just starting on their second tankard of ale when an officious-looking Tamul in a food-spotted wool mantle came into the room and walked directly to their table. Ill have a look at your release papers, if you dont mind, he told them in a loftily superior tone.
And if we do? Ulath asked.
The official blinked. What?
You said if we dont mind. What if we do mind?
I have the authority to demand to see those documents.
Why did you ask, then? Ulath reached inside his red uniform jacket and took out a dog-eared sheet of paper. In our old regiment, men in authority never asked.
The Tamul read through the documents Oscagne had provided them as a part of their disguise. These seem to be in order, he said in a more conciliatory tone. Sorry I was so abrupt. Weve been told to keep our eyes out for desertersall the turmoil, you understand. I guess the army looks a lot less attractive when theres fighting in the wind. He looked at them a bit wistfully. I see you were stationed in Matherion.
Tynian nodded. It was good dutya lot of inspections and polishing, though. Sit down, Commissioner.
The Tamul smiled faintly. Deputy-Commissioner, Im afraid, Corporal. This backwater doesnt rate a full Commissioner. He slid into a chair. Where are you men bound?
Home, Ulath said, back to Verel in Daconia.
Youll forgive my saying so, Sergeant, but you dont look all that much like a Dacite.
Ulath shrugged. I take after my mothers family. She was an Astel before she married my father. Tell me, Deputy-Commissioner, would we save very much time if we went straight on across the Tamul Mountains to reach Sepal? We thought wed catch a ferry or some trading ship there, go across the Sea of Arjun to Tiara and then ride on down to Saras. Its only a short way from there to Verel.
Id advise staying out of the Tamul Mountains, my friends.
Bad weather? Tynian asked him.
Thats always possible at this time of year, Corporal, but there have been some distirbing reports coming out of those mountains. It seems that the bears up there have been breeding like rabbits. Every traveler whos come through here in the past few weeks reports sighting the brutes. Fortunately they all run away.
Bears, you say?
The Tamul smiled. Im translating. The ignorant peasants around here use the word monster, but we all know what a large, shaggy creature who lives alone in the mountains is, dont we?
Peasants are an excitable lot, arent they? Ulath laughed, draining his tankard. We were out on a training exercise once, and this peasant came running up to us claiming that he was being chased by a pack of wolves. When we went out to take a look, it turned out to be one lone fox. The size and number of any wild animal a peasant sees seems to grow with each passing hour.
Or each tankard of ale, Tynian added.
They talked with the now-polite official for a while longer, and then the man wished them a good journey and left.
Well, its nice to know that the Trolls made it this far south, Ulath said. Id hate to have to go looking for them.
Their Gods were guiding them, Ulath, Tynian pointed out.
Youve never talked with the Troll-Gods, I see, Ulath laughed. Their sense of direction is a little vagueprobably because their compass only has two directions on it.
Oh?
North and not-north. It makes finding places a little difficult.
The storm was one of those short, savage gales that seem to come out of nowhere in the late autumn. Khalad had dismissed the possibility of finding any kind of shelter in the salt marshes and had turned instead to the beach. At the head of a shallow inlet he had found the mountain of driftwood hed been seeking. A couple of hours of fairly intense labor had produced a snug, even cozy little shelter on the leeward side of the pile.
The gale struck just as the last light was fading. The wind screamed through the huge pile of driftwood. The surf crashed and thundered against the beach, and the rain sheeted horizontally across the ground in the driving wind. Khalad and Berit, however, were warm and dry. They sat with their backs against the huge, bleached-white log that formed the rear wall of their shelter and their feet stretched out toward their crackling fire.
You always amaze me, Khalad, Berit said. How did you know that thered be boards mixed in amongst all this driftwood?
There always are, Khalad shrugged. Any time you find one of these big heaps of driftwood, youre going to find sawed lumber as well. Men make ships out of boards, and ships get wrecked. The boards float around until the wind and currents and tides push them to the same sheltered places where the sticks and the logs have been accumulating. He reached up and patted the ceiling. Finding this hatch-cover all in one piece was a stroke of luck, though, Ill grant you that. He rose to his feet and went to the front of the shelter. Its really blowing out there, he noted. He extended his hands toward the fire. Cold, too. The rains probably going to turn to sleet before midnight.
Yes, Berit agreed pleasantly. I certainly pity anybody caught out in the open on a night like this. He grinned.
Me too, Khalad grinned back. He lowered his voice, although there was no real need. Can you get any sense of what hes thinking?
Nothing specific, Berit replied. Hes seriously uncomfortable, though.
What a shame.
Theres something else, though. Hes going to come and talk with us. He has a message of some kind for us.
Is he likely to come in here tonight?
Berit shook his head. He has orders not to make contact until tomorrow morning. Hes very much afraid of whoever told him what to do and when to do it, so hell obey those orders to the letter. Hows that ham coming?
Khalad drew his dagger and used its point to lift the lid of the iron pot half-buried in embers at the edge of the fire. The steam that came boiling out smelled positively delicious. Its ready. As soon as the beans are done, we can eat.
If our friend out there is down-wind of us, that smell should add to his misery just a bit. Berit chuckled.
I sort of doubt it, Sparhawk. Hes a Styric, and hes not allowed to eat pork.
Oh, yes. Id forgotten about that. Hes a renegade, though. maybe hes discarded his dietary prejudices.
Well find out in the morning. When he comes to us tomorrow, Ill offer him a piece. Why dont you saw off a few slices of that loaf of bread? Ill toast them on the pot-lid here.
The wind had abated somewhat the following morning, and the rain had slacked off to a few fitful spatters stuttering on the hatch-cover roof. They had more of the ham and beans for breakfast and began to get things ready to pack.
The wind had abated somewhat the following morning, and the rain had slacked off to a few fitful spatters stuttering on the hatch-cover roof. They had more of the ham and beans for breakfast and began to get things ready to pack.
What do you think? Berit asked.
Lets make him come to us. Sitting tight until the last of the rain passes wouldnt be all that unusual. Khalad looked speculatively at his friend.
Would you be offended by a bit of advice, my Lord? he asked.
Of course not.
You look like Sparhawk, but you dont sound very much like him, and your mannerisms arent quite right. When the Styric comes, make your face colder and harder. Keep your eyes narrow. Sparhawk squints. Youll also want to keep your voice low and level. Sparhawks voice gets very quiet when hes angry and he calls people neighbor a lot. He can put all sorts of meaning into that one word.
Thats right, he does call just about everybody neighbor, doesnt he? Id almost forgotten that. Youve got my permission to correct me any time I start to lose my grip on the real Sparhawk, Khalad.
Permission?
Poor choice of words there, I suppose.
You might say that, yes.
The climate got a little too warm for us back in Matherion, Caalador said, leaning back in his chair. He looked directly at the hard-faced man seated across from him. Im sure you take my meaning, Order.
The hard-faced man laughed. Oh, yes, he replied. Ive left a few places about one jump ahead of the law a time or two myself. Order was an Elene from Vardenaise who ran a seedy tavern on the waterfront in Delo. He was a burly ruffian who prospered here because Elene criminals felt comfortable in the familiar surroundings of an Elene tavern and because Order was willing to buy things from themat about a tenth of their real valuewithout asking questions.
What we really need is a new line of work. Caalador gestured at Kalten and Bevier, disguised with new faces and rough, mismatched clothing. A fairly high personage in the Ministry of the Interior was in charge of the group of policemen who stopped by to ask us some embarrassing questions. He grinned at Bevier, who wore the face of one of his brother Cyrinics, an evil-looking knight who had lost an eye in a skirmish in Render and covered the empty socket with a black patch. My one-eyed friend there didnt care for the fellows attitude, so he lopped his head off with that funny-looking hatchet of his.