I dont think Ill ever be warm again, Abriel groaned, pulling his fur cloak tighter about him. Old age thins the blood. Dont ever get old, Darellon.
The alternative isnt very attractive, Lord Abriel. Darellon was a slender Deiran who appeared to have been swallowed up by his massive armor. He lowered his voice. You didnt really have to come along, my friend, he said. Sarathi would have understood.
Oh, no, Darellon. This is probably my last campaign. I wouldnt miss it for the world. Abriel peered ahead. Whats Komier doing out there?
Lord Komier said that he wanted to take a look at the ruins of Zemoch, Sir Heldin replied in his rumbling basse. I guess Thalesians take a certain pleasure in viewing the wreckage after a wars over.
Theyre a barbaric people, Abriel muttered sourly. He glanced quickly at Bergsten, who seemed totally immersed in his prayer book. You dont necessarily have to repeat that, gentlemen, he said to Darellon and Heldin.
I wouldnt dream of it, Abriel, Bergsten said, not looking up from his prayer book.
Youve got unwholesomely sharp ears, your Grace.
It comes from listening to confessions. People tend to shout the sins of others from the rooftops, but you can barely hear them when theyre describing their own. Bergsten looked up and pointed. Komiers coming back.
The Preceptor of the Genidian Knights was in high spirits as he reined in his horse, swirling up a huge billow of the dustlike snow. Sparhawk doesnt leave very much standing when he destroys a place, he announced cheerfully. I didnt entirely believe Ulath when he told me that our broken-nosed friend blew the lid off the Temple of Azash, but I do now. Youve never seen such a wreck. I doubt if theres a habitable building left in the whole city.
You really enjoy that sort of thing, dont you, Komier? Abriel accused.
Thats enough of that, gentlemen! Bergsten cut in quickly. Were not going to resurrect that worn-out old dispute again. We make war in different ways. Arcians like to build forts and castles, and Thalesians like to knock them down. Its all part of making war, and thats what we get paid for.
We, your Grace? Heldin rumbled mildly.
You know what I mean, Heldin. I dont personally get involved in that any more, of course, but
Why did you bring your axe along then, Bergsten? Komier asked him.
Bergsten gave him a flat stare. For old times sakeand because you Thalesian brigands pay closer attention to a man whos got an axe in his hands.
Knights, your Grace, Komier mildly corrected his countryman. Were called knights now. We used to be brigands, but now were behaving ourselves.
The Church appreciates your efforts to mend your ways my son, even though she knows that youre lying in your teeth.
Abriel carefully covered a smile. Bergsten was a former Genidian Knight himself, and sometimes his cassock slipped a bit.
Whos got the map? he asked, more to head off the impending argument than out of any real curiosity.
Heldin unbuckled one of his saddle-bags, his black armor clinking. What did you want to know, my Lord? he asked, taking out his map.
The usual. How far? How long? What sort of unpleasantness up ahead?
Its just over a hundred leagues to the Astellian border, my Lord, Heldin replied, consulting his map, and nine hundred leagues from there to Matherion.
A hundred days at least, Bergsten grunted sourly.
Thats if we dont run into any trouble, your Grace, Darellon added.
Take a look back over your shoulder, Darellon. There are a hundred thousand Church Knights behind us. Theres no trouble that we cant deal with. What sort of terrains up ahead, Heldin?
Theres some sort of divide about three days east of here, your Grace. All the rivers on this side of it run down into the Gulf of Merjuk. On the other side, they run off into the Astel Marshes. Id imagine that well be going downhill after we cross that divideunless Otha fixed it so that water runs uphill here in Zemoch.
A Genidian Knight rode forward. A messenger from Emsat just caught up with us, Lord Komier, he reported. He says he has important news for you.
Komier nodded, wheeled his horse and rode back toward the army. The rest of them pushed on as it started to snow a little harder. Komier was laughing uproariously when he returned with the travel-stained messenger who had chased them down.
Whats so funny? Bergsten asked him.
We have good news from home, your Grace, Komier said. Tell our beloved Patriarch what you just told me, he instructed the messenger.
Yes, my Lord, the blond-braided Thalesian said. It happened a few weeks back, your Grace. One morning the palace servants couldnt find a trace of the Prince Regent anywhere at all. The Guards tore the place apart for two straight days, but the little weasel seemed to have vanished entirely.
Mind your manners, man, Bergsten snapped. Avins the Prince Regent, after alleven if he is a little weasel.
Sorry your Grace. Anyway, the whole capital was mystified. Avin Wargunsson never went anywhere without taking a brass band along to blow fanfares announcing his coming. Then one of the servants happened to notice a full wine barrel in Avins study. That seemed odd, because Avin didnt have much stomach for wine, so they got to looking at the barrel a little more closely. It was clear that it had been opened, because quite a bit of wine had been spilled on the floor. Well, your Grace, theyd all worked up quite a thirst looking for Avin, so they decided to open the barrel, but when they tried to pry it open, they found out that it had been nailed shut. Now nobody nails a wine barrel shut in Thalesia, so everybody got suspicious right away. They took some pliers and pulled out the nails and lifted the lidand there was Avin, stone dead and floating face down in the barrel.
Youre not serious!
Yes, your Grace. Somebody in Emsats got a very warped sense of humor, I guess. He went to all the trouble of rolling that wine barrel into Avins study just so that he could stuff him in and nail down the lid. Avin seems to have struggled a bit. He had splinters under his fingernails, and there were clawmarks on the underside of the lid. It made an awful mess. I guess the wine drained out of him for a half an hour after they fished him out of the barrel. The palace servants tried to clean him up for the funeral, but you know how hard wine-stains are to get out. He was very purple when they laid him out on the bier in the Cathedral of Emsat for his funeral.
The messenger rubbed at the side of his face reflectively. It was the strangest funeral Ive ever attended. The Primate of Emsat kept trying to keep from laughing while he was reading the burial service, but he wasnt having much luck, and that got the whole congregation to laughing too. There was Avin lying on that bier, no bigger than a half-grown goat and as purple as a ripe plum, and there was the whole congregation, roaring with laughter.
At least everybody noticed him, Komier said. That was always important to Avin.
Oh, they noticed him all right, Lord Komier. Every eye in the Cathedral was on him. Then, after they put him in the royal crypt, the whole city had a huge party, and we all drank toasts to the memory of Avin Wargunsson. Its hard to find something to laugh about in Thalesia when winters coming on, but Avin managed to brighten up the whole season.
What kind of wine was it? Patriarch Bergsten asked gravely.
Arcian red, your Grace.
Any idea of what year?
Year before last, I believe it was.
A vintage year, Bergsten sighed. There was no way to save it, I suppose?
Not after Avin had been soaking in it for two days, your Grace.
Bergsten sighed again. What a waste, he mourned. And then he collapsed over his saddlebow, howling with laughter.
It was cold in the Tamul Mountains as Ulath and Tynian rode up into the foothills. The Tamul Mountains were one of those geographic anomalies which crop up here and there, a cluster of worn-down, weary-looking peaks with no evident connection to neighboring and more jagged peaks forested by fir and spruce and pine. The gentler slopes of the Tamul Mountains were covered with hardwoods which had been stripped of their leaves by the onset of winter.
The two knights rode carefully, staying in the open and making enough noise to announce their presence. Its very unwise to startle a Troll, Ulath explained.
Are you sure theyre out there? Tynian asked as they wound deeper into the mountains.
Ulath nodded. Ive seen tracksor places where theyve tried to brush out their tracesand fresh dirt where theyve buried their droppings. Trolls take pains to conceal their presence from humans. Its easier to catch supper if it doesnt know youre around.
The Troll-Gods promised Aphrael that their creatures wouldnt eat humans any more.
It may take a few generations for that notion to sift down into the minds of some of the stupider Trollsand a Troll can be fearfully stupid when he sets his mind to it. Wed better stay alert. As soon as we get up out of these foothills, Ill perform the ceremony that calls the Troll-Gods. We should be safe after that. Its these foothills that are dangerous.
Why not just perform the ceremony now?
Ulath shook his head. Bad manners. Youre not supposed to call on the Troll-Gods until youre up higherup in real Troll country.
This isnt Troll country, Ulath.
It is now. Lets find a place to camp for the night.
They built their camp on a kind of stair-stepped bench so that they had a solid cliff to their backs and a steep drop to the front. They took turns standing watch, and as the first faint light of dawn began to wash the darkness out of the overcast sky, Tynian shook Ulath awake. Theres something moving around in the brush at the foot of the cliff, he whispered.
Ulath shook his head. Bad manners. Youre not supposed to call on the Troll-Gods until youre up higherup in real Troll country.
This isnt Troll country, Ulath.
It is now. Lets find a place to camp for the night.
They built their camp on a kind of stair-stepped bench so that they had a solid cliff to their backs and a steep drop to the front. They took turns standing watch, and as the first faint light of dawn began to wash the darkness out of the overcast sky, Tynian shook Ulath awake. Theres something moving around in the brush at the foot of the cliff, he whispered.
Ulath sat up, his hand going to his axe. He cocked his head to listen. Troll, he said after a moment.
How can you tell?
Whatevers making all the noise is doing it on purpose. A deer wouldnt crash around like that, and the bears have all denned up for the winter. The Troll wants us to know hes there.
What do we do?
Lets build up the fire a bitlet him know that were awake. Weve got a touchy situation here, so lets not move too fast.
He pushed his blankets aside and rose to his feet as Tynian piled more limbs on the fire.