Order looked at the weapon Bevier had laid on the table beside his ale-tankard. Thats a lochaber axe, isnt it? he asked.
Bevier grunted. Kalten felt that Beviers flair for dramatics was pushing him a little far. The black eye-patch was probably enough, but Beviers participation in amateur theatricals as a student made him seem to want to go to extremes. His intent was obviously to appear dangerously competent. What he was achieving, however, was the appearance of a homicidal maniac.
Doesnt a lochaber usually have a longer handle? Order asked.
It wouldnt fit under my tunic, Bevier growled, so I sawed a couple of feet off the handle. It works well enoughif you keep chopping with it. The screaming and the blood dont bother me all that much, so it suits me just fine.
Order shuddered and looked slightly sick. Thats the meanest-looking weapon Ive ever seen, he confessed.
Maybe thats why I like it so much, Bevier told him.
Order looked at Caalador. What line were you and your friends thinking of taking up, Ezek? he asked.
We thought we might try our hand at highway robbery or something along those lines, Caalador said. You know, fresh air, exercise, wholesome food, no policemen in the neighborhood, that sort of thing. Weve got some fairly substantial prices on our heads, and now that the Emperors disbanded Interior, all the policing is being done by the Atans. Did you know that you cant bribe an Atan?
Order nodded glumly. Oh, yes, he said. Its shocking. He squinted speculatively at Ezek, who appeared to be a middle-aged Deiran. Why dont you describe Caalador to me, Ezek? Im not doubting your word, mind. Its just that things are a little topsy-turvy right now, what with all the policemen we used to bribe either in jail or dead, so we all have to be careful.
No offense taken at all, Order, Caalador assured him. I wouldnt trust a man who wasnt careful these days. Caaladors a Cammorian, and hes got curly hair and a red face. Hes sort of blockyyou know, big shoulders, thick neck, and a little stout around the middle.
Orders eyes narrowed shrewdly. What did he tell you? Repeat his exact words.
Wal, sir, Caalador replied, exaggerating the dialect just a bit, Ol Caalador, he tole us t come down yore t Delo an look up a feller name o Orderon accounta this yore Order, hes th one oz knows whuts whut in the shadowy world o crime herebouts.
Order relaxed and laughed. Thats Caalador, all right, he said. I knew you were telling me the truth before youd said three words.
He certainly mangles the language, Caalador agreed. Hes not as stupid as he sounds, though.
Kalten covered a smile with his hand.
Not by a dang sight, he aint, Order agreed, imitating the dialect. I think youll find that highway robbery isnt very profitable around here, Ezek, mainly because there arent that many highways. Its safe enough out in the junglenot even the Atans can find anybody in all that underbrushbut pickings are slim. Three men alone in the bush wont be able to make ends meet. I think youll have to join one of the bands out there. They make a fair living robbing isolated estates and raiding various towns and villages. That takes quite a number of men, so there are always job openings. He sat back and tapped one finger thoughtfully against his chin. Do you want to go a long way from town? he asked.
The further out the better, Caalador replied.
Narstils operating down by the ruins of Natayos. I can guarantee that the police wont bother you there. A fellow named Scarpas got an army stationed in the ruins. Hes a crazy revolutionary who wants to overthrow the Tamul government. Narstil has quite a few dealings with him. Theres some risk involved, but theres a lot of profit to be made in that neighborhood.
I think youve found just what were looking for, Order, Caalador said eagerly.
Kalten carefully let out a long sigh of relief. Order had come up with the exact answer theyd been looking for without even being prompted. If they joined this particular band of robbers, theyd be close enough to Natayos to smell the smoke from the chimneys, and that was a better stroke of luck than theyd even dared to hope for.
Ill tell you what, Ezek, Order said, why dont I write a letter to Narstil introducing you and your friends?
Wed definitely appreciate it, Order.
But before I waste all that ink and paper, why dont we have a talk about how much youre going to pay me to write that letter?
The Styric was wet and muddy and very nearly blue with the cold. He was shivering so violently that his voice quavered as he hailed their camp. I have a message for you, he called. Dont get excited and do something foolish. He spoke in Elenic, and that made Berit quite thankful, since his own Styric was not all that good. It was the one major flaw in his disguise.
Come on in, neighbor, he called out to the miserable-looking fellow at the upper end of the beach. Just keep your hands out in plain sight.
Come on in, neighbor, he called out to the miserable-looking fellow at the upper end of the beach. Just keep your hands out in plain sight.
Dont order me around, Elene, the Styric snapped. Im the one whos giving the orders here.
Deliver your message from right there then, neighbor, Berit said coldly. Take your time, if you want. Im warm and dry in here, so waiting while you make up your mind wont be all that unpleasant for me.
Its a written message, the man said in Styric. At least Berit thought that was what he said.
Friend, Khalad said, stepping in quickly, weve got a slightly touchy situation here. There are all sorts of chances for misunderstandings, so dont make me nervous by talking in a language I dont understand. Sir Sparhawk here understands Styric, but I dont, and my knife in your belly will kill you just as quick as his will. Ill be very sorry afterward, of course, but youll still be dead.
Can I come in? the Styric asked, speaking in Elenic.
Come ahead, neighbor, Berit told him.
The lumpy-faced messenger approached the front of their shelter, looking longingly at the fire.
You really look uncomfortable, old boy, Berit noted. Couldnt you think of a spell to keep the rain off?
The Styric ignored that. Im instructed to give you this, he said, reaching inside his homespun smock and drawing out an oilskin-covered packet.
Tell me what youre going to do before you stick your hand inside your clothes like that, neighbor, Berit cautioned him in a low voice and squinting at him as he said it. As my friend just pointed out, weve got some wonderful opportunities for misunderstandings here. Startling me when Im this close to you isnt a good way to keep your guts on the inside.
The Styric swallowed hard and stepped back as soon as Berit took the packet.
Would you care for a slice of ham while my Lord Sparhawk reads his mail, friend? Khalad offered. Its nice and greasy, so itll lubricate your innards. The Styric shuddered, and his face took on a faintly nauseated look. Theres nothing quite like a few gobs of oozy pork-fat to slick up a mans gullet, Khalad told him cheerfully. It must come from all the garbage and half-rotten swill that pigs eat.
The Styric made a retching sound.
Youve delivered your message, neighbor, Berit said coldly. Im sure you have someplace important to go, and we certainly wouldnt want to keep you.
Are you sure you understand the message?
Ive read it. Elenes read very well. Were not illiterates like you Styrics. The message didnt make me very happy, so its not going to pay you to stay around.
The Styric messenger backed away, his face apprehensive. Then he turned and fled.
What does it say? Khalad asked.
Berit gently held the identifying lock of the Queens hair in his hand. It says that theres been a change of plans. Were supposed to go on down past the Tamul Mountains and then turn west. They want us to go to Sepal now.
Youd better get word to Aphrael.
There was a sudden, familiar little trill of pipes. The two young men spun around quickly. The Child Goddess sat cross-legged on Khalads blankets, breathing a plaintive Styric melody into her many-chambered pipes. Why are you staring at me? she asked them. I told you I was going to look after you, didnt I?
Is this really wise, Divine One? Berit asked her. That Styrics no more than a few hundred yards away, you know, and he can probably sense your presence.
Not right now, he cant, Aphrael smiled. Right now hes too busy concentrating on keeping his stomach from turning inside out. All that talk about pork-fat was really cruel, Khalad.
Yes. I know.
Did you have to be so graphic?
I didnt know you were around. What do you want us to do?
Go to Sepal the way they told you to. Ill get word to the others. She paused. What did you do to that ham, Khalad? she asked curiously. Youve actually managed to make it smell almost edible.
Its probably the cloves, he shrugged. Nobodys really all that fond of the taste of pork, when you get right down to it, but my mother taught me that almost anything can be made edibleif you use enough spices. You might want to keep that in mind the next time youre thinking about serving up a goat.
She stuck her tongue out at him, and then she vanished.
7
It was snowing in the mountains of Zemoch, a dry, brittle snow that settled like a cloud of feathers in the dead calm air. It was bitterly cold, and a huge cloud of steam hung like a low-lying fog over the horses of the army of the Knights of the Church as they plodded forward, their hooves sending the powdery snow swirling into the air again. The preceptors of the militant orders rode in the lead, dressed in full armor and bundled in furs.
Preceptor Abriel of the Cyrinic Knights, still vigorous despite his advanced age, rode with Darellon, the Alcione Preceptor, and with Sir Heldin, a scarred old veteran who was filling in as leader of the Pandions during Sparhawks absence. Patriarch Bergsten rode somewhat apart. The huge Churchman was muffled to the ears in fur, and his Ogre-horned helmet made him look very warlike, an appearance offset to some degree by the small, black-bound prayer book he was reading. Preceptor Komier of the Genidians was off ahead with the scouts.