Читать книгу The Serpentwar Saga: The Complete 4-Book Collection - Raymond E. Feist - Страница 25

Erik winced.

The roundhouse kick Nakor caught him with had been pulled, but it still stung.

‘You still charge like a mad bull,’ scolded the Isalani. His face was like wrinkled leather, but his eyes showed a youthful merriment. Sho Pi watched closely as his older countryman spun again, unexpectedly. Erik moved just in time to keep from getting kicked in the chest again, and snapped off a kick of his own, coming quickly back to a defensive position.

‘Why!’ shouted Nakor, scolding. ‘Why did you draw back?’

Erik blew out hard, sucking in air as perspiration poured from his face and body. Puffing, he said, Because … I would have been … off balance. That kick … was to get you to back off … not to hurt you. If I had followed up, you would have broken my neck.’

Nakor grinned, and once more Erik was struck by how this strange man, aboard their ship for less than a month now, had come to be so liked by everyone. He told outrageous stories, almost certainly all lies, and his habit of winning consistently at cards caused Erik to think him probably a cheat as well. But if a liar and cheat could be said to be trusted, Nakor was.

Sho Pi came to stand next to Nakor. ‘It is wise to know when to regroup, just as it is wise to know when to press.’ He bowed, and Erik returned the bow. At first, like the others, he had thought all the rituals strange, and had mocked them, but now, also like the others, he performed them without thought. In fact, he now admitted to himself that the rituals helped keep him focused.

‘Master –’ began Sho Pi.

‘I tell you again, boy, don’t call me master!’

The men laughed. Sho Pi had decided at some point during the week following Nakor’s arrival that Nakor was the master he had been sent to find. This had brought a consistent stream of denial from Nakor that was now in its third week. At least once in every conversation, Sho Pi called Nakor master and Nakor demanded he stop.

Sho Pi ignored the instruction. ‘I think we should show the men shi-to-ku.’

Nakor shook his head. ‘You show them. I’m tired. I’m going to go over there and eat an orange.’

Erik flexed his left shoulder, stiff from the blow to his chest. Sho Pi noticed. ‘That is bothering you?’

Erik nodded. ‘Caught me here,’ he said, pointing to just below his right pectoral muscle, ‘but I can feel it all the way through to my neck and elbow. My shoulder is tightening.’

‘Then come here,’ said Sho Pi.

Nakor watched and nodded as Sho Pi indicated Erik should kneel. He made a gesture with his right hand, then laid his hands upon Erik’s shoulder. Erik’s eyes widened as he felt heat flowing from Sho Pi’s hands. The throbbing in his shoulder quickly diminished. As he knelt there, Erik said, ‘What are you doing?’

Sho Pi said, ‘In my homeland it is known as reiki. There is healing energy in the body. It is what helps you recover from injuries and disease.’

As the heat loosened the bruised muscle, Erik said, ‘Can you teach me to do this?’

‘It takes a great deal of time –’ began Sho Pi.

‘Ha!’ shouted Nakor. Moving from the rail, he tossed a half-eaten orange over the side and said, ‘More monastic mumbo-jumbo! Reiki is no mystic meditation; there is no prayer. It’s a natural thing. Anyone can do it!’

Sho Pi smiled slightly as Nakor waved him aside. Standing over Erik, he said, ‘You want to do this?’

Erik said, ‘Yes.’

Nakor said, ‘Give me your right hand.’

Erik held it out, and Nakor turned it over, palm up. He closed his eyes and made some signs, then slapped Erik’s hand, hard. Erik felt his eyes water from the unexpected blow. ‘What did you do that for?’ he demanded.

‘Wakes up the energies. Now, hold your hand here.’ Nakor moved Erik’s hand to his shoulder. Erik felt the same heat flowing from his own hand he had felt from Sho Pi’s. ‘Without prayer or meditation, it flows,’ instructed Nakor. ‘It’s always on, so whatever you touch you will heal. Now I will show you what to touch.’ To Sho Pi he said, ‘I can teach these men to use the power in two days, boy. None of your mystic nonsense. The temples claim this is magic, but it isn’t even a good trick. It’s just that most people are too stupid to know they have the power or how to use it.’

Sho Pi looked at Nakor and feigned a serious expression, but his eyes were amused. ‘Yes, Master.’

‘And don’t call me master!’ shouted Nakor.

He instructed the men to circle around and began talking about the body’s natural healing energies. Erik was fascinated. He thought back to those horses he had treated, the ones who should have gotten better but didn’t, and the ones that recovered from injuries against any reasonable expectation of success, and he wondered how much of it was their spirit.

‘This energy is made of the stuff of life,’ said Nakor. ‘I think you are not stupid men, but you are also men who do not care much for those things I find so fascinating, so I will not try to explain to you what I think this stuff of life is. Leave it to say that this energy is everywhere, in all things living.’

Calis came up on deck and caught Nakor’s eyes. Something passed between them as Nakor said, ‘All living things are connected.’ Erik glanced back at where Roo sat, and noticed his friend had also caught the exchange.

Nakor went on to explain about how the body can heal itself, but that most people don’t know how to accept their own power. He demonstrated a few things the men needed to know to take full advantage of the reiki – where best to place their hands to achieve the desired effect, how to identify different types of injury and illness – but the energy seemed always to be there whenever they touched themselves or one another after Nakor had ‘awakened the power’ in their hands.

By midday all the men had been slapped on the hand and had spent hours practicing healing energies on one another. Nakor and Sho Pi had led them through a series of exercises designed to help them identify the sources of common problems and how to recognize the flow of energies in another’s body. At the midday meal the men were joking about this laying hands on one another, but they were also obviously impressed at the ability of this simple act to relieve aches and reduce swelling and generally make them feel better.

After lunch, Erik and Roo were sent aloft, relieving sailors on the day watch so they could eat. Securing a sail that the Captain had ordered reefed as the wind freshened, Roo said, ‘What do you think of all that?’

Erik said, ‘What Nakor said: it’s a useful tool. I don’t care a fig for what Sho Pi says about its being a mystic thing. It works; I’ll use it.’ With a near-wistful note in his voice, he added, ‘I wish I had known about it when I was tending Greylock’s mare. It would have made her come back faster, I think.’

Roo said, ‘I think anything we know that can keep us healthy is good.’

Erik nodded. There was a grim reluctance among the men to consider the eventual end of their journey. After Calis had announced his intention to take them to join this invading host, he had briefly outlined their mission.

They would land a small party on a beach below a cliff where ships did not normally pass. The thirty-six prisoners and fifty-eight survivors of the last campaign, with Foster, de Loungville, Nakor, and Calis, would climb this cliff face. Once atop the plateau, they would travel overland to meet some allies of Calis’s, then move to intercept the invaders at a city called Khaipur. Their mission was to discover what weakness, if any, existed in this host, and Calis and Nakor would be the ones likely to understand what that would be. But when it was discovered what that weakness might be, then it was every man’s duty to return to the City of the Serpent River with the information, to get back to Trenchard’s Revenge, and get the critical intelligence back to Prince Nicholas.

If they could contrive a way to balk the onslaught before the invaders could muster a host big enough to cross the waters and assault the Kingdom, all the better. But Calis drove home again and again the risk that hung over everyone. Erik remembered his last words on the subject: ‘No one will escape. This plague of invasion is but the first part of the destruction. Dark magic beyond your ability to comprehend will be unleashed in the end, and should you hide in the deepest cave in the farthest mountains of the Northlands, or in the remotest island on some distant sea, you will die. If we do not stop this host, we all will die.’ He had looked from man to man. ‘That is the only choice, win or die.’

Now Erik understood why Robert de Loungville had needed ‘desperate men,’ because for all intents and purposes they were about to stick their neck back in noose. Erik absently fingered the one he still wore.

‘Mercy!’ said Roo, bringing Erik out of his revery.

‘What?’

‘Speak of a demon and he appears! Isn’t that Owen Greylock’s silver scalp I see over there on the foredeck of the Ranger?’

Erik looked hard and saw the tiny figure on the nearby ship. ‘It could be. About the right size, and the hair has that silver streaking through it.’

‘I wonder why we didn’t see him at the beach?’

Erik finished off tying a line. ‘Maybe he didn’t come ashore. Maybe he already knows the tasks at hand.’

Roo nodded. ‘In all of this there are still some things I don’t understand. Who was this Miranda woman, anyway? Every man I mention her to has met her, sometimes under different names. And Greylock was your friend, maybe, but if he’s on that ship, did he have something to do with our being captured?’

Erik shrugged. ‘If that is Greylock, we’ll find out when we get where we’re going. As for the rest, who cares? We’re here, and we have a job to do. Thinking about why isn’t going to change that.’

Roo looked exasperated. ‘You have too accepting a nature, my friend. When this is all done, if we survive, I plan on getting rich. There’s a merchant in Krondor with a homely daughter who he wants to marry off. I may be just the lad for her.’

Erik laughed. ‘You can be ambitious for both of us, Roo.’

They continued to work, and when Erik glanced over at the Ranger, the figure who might have been Owen was gone.

Weeks passed. They sailed through the Straits of Darkness without mishap, though the weather was difficult. For the first time Erik felt what it was like to be at risk aboard ship, hanging from rigging as weather buffeted him. The old hands joked that this was a mild passage for the time of year in the Straits, and wove stories of impossible conditions, with mile-high funnel clouds and waves the size of castles.

It took three days, and when they had passed through, Erik had nearly collapsed on his bunk, as had his companions. The experienced sailors could sleep through the storm on their off watch, but the former prisoners weren’t that blasé about it.

As life aboard the ship became more routine, the relationships between the men evolved. They would talk for days about the grim purpose behind their mission, then more days would go by without comment. Speculation would lead to dispute, followed by silent acknowledgment that each man, in his own way, was afraid.

Those former soldiers who came over from the Ranger to train with the prisoners were just as likely to give long narratives about the previous venture south as they were to remain silent. It depended upon the man and his mood.

Erik did discover one thing: Calis was nothing human, if the older soldiers were to be believed. Far more telling than Jadow’s and Jerome’s tales of his prodigious strength was one old soldier, a former corporal at Carse, who said that he had first met Calis twenty-four years previously, when the corporal had been a raw recruit, and Calis hadn’t aged a day since.

Roo was learning to curb his temper, if not entirely master it. He had gotten into several arguments, but only one had come to blows, and that had quickly been ended by Jerome Handy’s picking Roo up, carrying him up on deck, and threatening to drop him over the side. The crew laughed as Roo dangled over the water with Jerome gripping his ankles.

Roo had been more embarrassed than angered by the incident, and when Erik had spoken to him about it afterward, he shrugged it off. He said something that had stuck with Erik ever since. He looked his boyhood friend in the eye and said, ‘Whatever happens, I have been afraid, Erik. I cried like a baby and peed in my pants when they took us to the gallows. After that, what is there left to be afraid of?’

Erik enjoyed the sea, but he didn’t think he could live the sailor’s life. He longed for his forge and horses to tend. He knew that if he survived the coming battles, that would be his choice: a forge and maybe, someday, a wife and children.

He thought about Rosalyn and his mother, Milo and Ravensburg. He wondered how they were doing, and if they knew he was alive. Manfred might have mentioned it to a guard, who might have told someone in town. But there was certainly no one who cared enough about him or his family to ensure that his mother or Rosalyn knew. He had thoughts of Rosalyn, and found them strangely neutral. He loved her, but when he imagined a wife and children, Rosalyn wasn’t there. No one was.

Roo had already made up his mind he would return to Krondor and marry Helmut Grindle’s homely daughter. Every time he said that, Erik laughed.

As the days wore on, the men became more proficient in every aspect of their training. The stories of the surviving men from the last mission and their example, their own grim determination to excel, spurred on the former prisoners to match their achievements. As well as they could aboard ship, they practiced their weapons, and on calmer days Calis worked with them on archery. The weapon of choice was a small bow used by the horsemen of the Eastland steppes, the Jeshandi. Calis had his own longbow stored in his cabin, but used the shorter weapon with ease. About half the men turned out to be good to excellent with the weapon. Roo was better than Erik, but neither youngster was among the first thirty bowmen. Those would be issued bows, Calis had said, but he wanted every man at least familiar enough with the weapon to have some chance of hitting a target.

That seemed to be the underlying pattern to the training. De Loungville and Foster would drill men with every weapon they might be forced to use, from long poll arms to daggers. Each man was marked down in a journal as to his strengths and weaknesses, but none was spared the hours of drills, even with the weapons for which he showed no aptitude. What had begun at the camp outside of Krondor continued aboard ship. Each day Erik spent a half watch using a sword, spear, or bow, a knife, mauler, or his fists, but always he was expected to improve.

The hour with Sho Pi and Nakor became the high point of the day for Erik, and the other men seemed to enjoy the exercises as well. The meditation was strange at first, but now it refreshed him and made his sleep better.

By the third month, Erik was adept at open-handed fighting, as he thought of the strange Isalani dance Sho Pi taught them. No matter how strange at first, the movements wove themselves into an arsenal of moves and counter-moves, and often without thought Erik found a sudden response, completely unexpected, coming from him during a combat drill. Once, when using knives, he almost cut Luis, who said something in Rodezian as he studied his onetime death cell companion. Then he had laughed. ‘Your “dance of the crane” has turned into the “claw of the tiger,” it seems.’ Both were moves taught him by Sho Pi, and neither had been conscious on his part.

Erik wondered what he was becoming.

‘Land ho!’ cried the lookout.

For the last two days tension on the ship had mounted. Sailors had mentioned that they were close to the point where they should be making landfall, and now every man was conscious of how long he had been confined to the ship. These large three-masted warships were provisioned well enough for the long four-month voyage, but the food was now stale or old and tired. Only Nakor’s ever-present oranges were fresh.

Erik went aloft and made ready to reef sail, as the Captain took the ship through a treacherous series of reefs. Moving past a clear patch of water, Erik looked down and saw what appeared to be part of a ship lying under ten feet of water.

An older sailor named Marstin standing next to him said, ‘That’s the Raptor, lad. Old Captain Trenchard’s ship, once the Royal Eagle out of Krondor. We sailors of the King became pirates for a time.’ He pointed toward the rocky shore. ‘A handful of us washed up there twenty-four years ago, and young Calis, with the Prince of Krondor – Nicholas, not his dad—and Duke Marcus of Crydee.’

‘You were among that party?’ asked Roo on his other side.

‘There’s a handful of us still alive. I was on my first voyage, a seaman apprentice in the King’s Navy, but I served on the best ship under the finest Captain in history.’

Roo and Erik had heard several versions of the story about Calis’s first voyage to the southern continent. ‘Where are you going once we’re dropped off?’

Marstin replied, ‘City of the Serpent River. Revenge is going to wait for you men, while Ranger is going to refit and go home with the current news. That’s what I hear, anyway.’

Scuttlebutt they called it in the navy, but it was the same gossip they’d heard. Further conversation was cut off by the order to reef the sails, and Erik and Roo got to it.

When they were done scrambling around enough to take in their whereabouts, they saw they were lying off a long, empty beach beneath a huge wall of cliffs, easily one hundred feet high. The breakers and combers indicated the area was thick with rocks, and Erik was impressed with the Captain’s ease at reaching this relatively safe anchorage.

‘Muster on deck!’ came the command, and Erik and Roo scrambled down to the deck with the others. De Loungville waited until the entire company was settled before he shouted, ‘We get off, here, ladies. You have ten minutes to get below and gather up your kits and get back up here. The boats will be putting over the side at once. We don’t dawdle. No one will be left behind, so don’t get cute ideas about dodging into the rope lockers.’

Erik was convinced the warning was unnecessary. The conversations he’d had with every other member of this company led him to judge that everyone understood there would be no quick escape from this mission. Some might not believe that everything was as Calis had said, but Nakor’s words seemed to have reached all of them, and whatever the truth of it, this band of desperate men would meet the challenge face on.

Horsemen waited at the top of the cliff. The climb had been relatively easy, as a rope-and-wood ladder had been installed on the face of the rocks. Anyone in poor health might have had difficulty with the long climb, but after four months of ship’s duty, hard upon the heels of the training at the camp, Erik had no trouble climbing with his backpack and weapons.

At the top of the bluff, Erik saw a pleasant oasis hard against the edge of the cliff. A large pool of water was surrounded by date palms and other greenery. Then he caught sight of the desert. ‘Gods!’ he exclaimed, and Roo came to his side.

‘What?’ asked the smaller youth. Biggo and the others came and looked where Erik pointed.

‘I’ve seen the Jal-Pur,’ said Billy Goodwin, ‘and it’s a mother’s kindness compared to this.’

In every direction, rock and sand greeted the eye. Save where the cliff showed ocean, there was only one color, a slate grey, dotted with darker rock. Even this late in the afternoon, the heat shimmer rising made the air ripple like bed sheets on a line, and suddenly Erik felt thirsty.

Biggo said, ‘I’d not wish this on a hound of hell.’

The attention of Erik and his five companions was diverted by Foster suddenly shouting, ‘All right, ladies, enough time to take in the scenery later. Fall in!’

They were moved to where de Loungville waited. He pointed to a group of six men, the one that included Jerome and Jadow Shati. Erik knew them by name and had spoken to each from time to time on the long voyage. ‘This is the oldest team of six I have. They’ve been training for three years.’ Then he motioned toward Erik and his group. ‘This is the newest group. They’d been training for only a few weeks before we left.’ He addressed Erik’s group. ‘Watch them. Do what they do. If you get into trouble, they will help you. If you make mistakes, they will help you. If you try to escape, they will kill you.’ Without another word, he moved away, and calling Foster’s name, he shouted instructions to get the men organized for a march.

The horsemen conferred with Calis, then turned and rode off. A short distance away, large bundles were tied down under canvas, staked to the ground by peg and rope. Foster ordered a dozen men to uncover them, and when they had finished, Erik saw a cache of arms and armor.

Calis held up his hand. ‘You are mercenaries, now, so some of you will dress like ragpickers, while others will look like princes. I want no squabbling over who takes what. The weapons are more important than the finery. Leave your Kingdom-made weapons here, and take what’s under the canvas …’

Roo whispered, ‘Wish they’d told us we wouldn’t need all this armor before we lugged it up the cliff!’

Calis continued, ‘Remember, this is mummery, nothing more. Booty isn’t our objective.’

The men gathered closer, for Calis rarely addressed them and they were still not privy to much of what lay before them. ‘You know what you’ve been told,’ he continued. ‘Now you will know the rest. In ancient times a race was created, the serpent men of Pantathia.’ Instead of the usual muttering, the men were rapt and silent, for they knew their lives depended upon knowing as much about this mission as possible. ‘This race has lore as ancient as the Chaos Wars. They think their destiny is to rule this world, destroying all else who abide here.’ Looking around at the men, as if memorizing their faces, the young-looking elf-kin said, ‘They have the means, I think. Or at least it’s our task to discover if they have the means.

‘We came here twelve years ago, some of us.’ He nodded to a knot of soldiers from the last campaign. ‘We thought in simpler terms then: we would lend our weight to the struggle and turn back conquerors. We now know better.’ All the surviving soldiers of the first campaign against the Pantathians nodded in agreement. ‘Whatever these creatures plan, it is more than simple land-grabbing or raiding for booty. Twenty years ago they came against a small city on the far side of this continent, Irabek, and since then, any land they take falls behind a curtain of death and fire. We have no word from any place they have conquered. Those of us who faced them on the walls of Hamsa know what they are. Mercenary companies such as we pretend to be lead the wave, but behind them are fanatic soldiers. There are human officers and cadres of well-drilled fighting men, but more: there are also serpents who ride horses twenty-five hands high.’

Erik blinked at this. The largest war-horse he had seen in Baron Otto’s cavalry was nineteen hands. He’d heard of some being twenty hands, used by the Krondor Heavy Lancers, but twenty-five hands? That was nearly eight and a half feet at the withers. Not even the biggest Shire horse he’d seen came close to that.

‘We’ve not seen these creatures,’ continued Calis, ‘but we have reliable reports. And behind these creatures come the priests themselves.

‘Some men, we are told, are rewarded by being placed high within this company of well-drilled fightingmen. But all of them are willing servants of those who seek to dominate this land.

‘Our mission is simple. We must get as close to the heart of this army of conquest and discover as much about it as we may. Then, when we have learned all we can, we must flee to the City of the Serpent River, and from there home, so that Prince Nicholas can prepare for the coming invasion.’

There was a moment of silence; then Biggo said, ‘So that’s all we need do, and then we can go home?’

Suddenly there was laughter. Erik found he couldn’t hold it in. Roo looked at him, seemed to struggle to hold in his own guffaw, then abruptly was laughing as well.

Calis let the mirth go on for a moment before he held up his hands for silence. ‘Many will not return. But those of you who do will have earned your freedom and the praise of your King. And if we can defeat these murderous snakes, you may have the opportunity to live out that life as you choose. Now, get equipped. We have a long march across a difficult desert before we meet with friends.’

The men fell upon the arms and clothing like children on gifts at the Midwinter Feast, and soon comments and friendly insults were flying.

Erik found a faded but serviceable blue tunic, over which he strapped on a breastplate of alien design, with a worn and faded lion’s head embossed on it. A simple round shield, a long dagger in his belt, and a well-made longsword filled his needs. As men tried on various items and discarded them, a conical helm with a nasal bar rolled to his feet. He bent to pick it up, and a chain neck guard fell out. He tried it on. It fit comfortably, so he kept it.

As the men made ready, the mood turned somber. Calis saw they were finished and held up his hands. ‘You are now Calis’s Crimson Eagles. If anyone recognizes that name, you’re men from the Sunset Islands. Those of you who served before can tell the others what they need to know about the Eagles if they’re asked. We are the fiercest fighters in the Kingdom, and we fear no man or demon. We got our backsides booted when last we came this way, but that was twelve years ago, and I doubt there’s one man in a thousand alive who remembers. So, form companies – we’re mercenaries, but we’re not rabble – and check your rations. Each man’s to carry three full waterskins. We’re marching at night and sleeping during the day. Follow instructions and you’ll live to see water again.’

As the sun sank Foster and de Loungville got the men ranked into companies. Calis faced west, toward an angry sun, and led them into the heat.

Erik had never been so hot, tired, and thirsty in his life. The back of his neck itched, yet he couldn’t spare the energy to reach up and scratch it. The first night had seemed relatively easy. The air had plunged from hot to brisk within hours, and as sunrise approached, it was cold. Yet even then it had been a very dry cold, and the thirst had begun. As instructed, they drank only when permitted by Foster and de Loungville, a mouthful every hour.

Near sunrise, they were ordered to make camp, and quickly had small tents erected, each large enough to shade six men. They quickly fell asleep.

Hours later, Erik awoke with a start, as the breath in his lungs seemed barely to hold enough air to keep him alive. He gasped and was rewarded with a dry lungful that was close to painful. Opening his eyes, he saw waves in the air as heat shimmer rose off the hardpan. Other men moved and tried to get comfortable in the heat. A couple had left the small tents, thinking the heat outside might somehow be less than the heat radiating through the canvas, and quickly they returned to the tiny shelter. As if reading minds, Foster’s voice had cut through the air, warning any man caught drinking would be flogged.

The second night had been arduous, and the second day terrible. Now there was no rest in lying in the heat, only less energy expended than attempting to move. The night offered no relief, as the cold dry air sucked moisture from the men seemingly as quickly as the day’s heat.

They marched on.

Foster and de Loungville were careful not to lose sight of each company, ensuring that no one at the rear stumbled and was left behind. Erik knew they were also ensuring that no one dropped any vital piece of equipment because they were fatigued.

Now it was the third day and Erik despaired of ever seeing water and shade again. Adding to the cruelty of the trek was the rising terrain before them. It had begun gently enough, but now it felt as if they were walking uphill.

Ahead, Calis stopped, but motioned for the others to come up to him. When they reached the crest of the rise, Erik could see that they had reached grasslands, and that from the crest downward, rolling hills of green led to a scattering of copses where broad branched trees offered shelter. In the distance, a line of trees meandered across the countryside, and it was there Calis pointed. ‘The Serpent River. You can drink your fill now.’

Erik pulled up his last waterskin and drained it, finding it was almost empty. He was surprised; he had thought he had more water left, as he hadn’t been allowed to drink enough to drain three skins.

Calis looked to de Loungville and said, ‘That was pretty easy.’

Erik glanced at Roo, who shook his head. The order to march was passed along, and they moved toward the distant river.

Horses milled in large corrals and Calis spoke to a pair of horse traders. They had been at this place before, a prosperous-looking trading post called Shingazi’s Landing. One of the older soldiers said it had been burned to the ground when Calis had first come to this land, twenty-four years ago, but had been rebuilt. Even though Shingazi had died in that fire years before, the new owners kept the name. So they were presently enjoying the hospitality of Brek’s at Shingazi’s Landing.

The food was simple but welcome after the rations of the last three days, as were the abundant wine and ale. The men waiting for them weren’t the same riders that had met them on the bluffs. Those had been riders of the jeshandi, Erik had been told, while these were city men, up from the City of the Serpent River.

A company of guardsmen were stationed with them, and their captain was known to Calis. They had gone inside the tavern to talk, while the mercenary company was left to itself outside. Every man had bathed in the river, drank his fill, and now they were resting before mounting up to ride.

Erik watched the horses with interest. Here was something he could understand. He saw that each mount was being given a snaffle bit, a cavalry saddle with a breast-band, and saddlebags, with room for a sleeping roll or rolled-up tent behind the saddle’s cantle.

Foster was walking nearby when Erik noticed something. ‘Corporal,’ he said.

Foster halted. ‘What?’

‘That horse isn’t sound.’

‘What?’

Erik moved between two rails of the corral fence and pushed past the milling horses near by. One of the horse trader’s handlers shouted at Erik; he had tried to learn the language of this land on ship, and knew that man was ordering him to stay away from the horses, but he didn’t have enough confidence in his ability to say he just wanted to look. He waved at the man as if returning a greeting.

Reaching the horse, he ran his hand down the left foreleg, picking it up. ‘Bad hoof.’

Foster said, ‘Damn their greedy hearts.’

The wrangler reached them, shouting at them to leave the animals alone. ‘You haven’t paid yet! They are not yours!’

Foster unleashed his legendary rage. Gripping the man’s shirt in one meaty hand, he raised him to his toes and screamed in his face. ‘I should have your liver for lunch! Get your master and tell him if he’s not here before I lose my good mood, I’ll kill him and every cheating whoreson of a city man within five miles!’ He half pushed the man as he let go of his shirt, and the wrangler fell back against the horse, who snorted in protest and moved away. Turning, the man ran off to find his employer.

This exchange wasn’t lost on the guards who came with the horse traders, and suddenly there were armed men in all directions moving to get ready for a fight. Erik said, ‘Corporal, was that wise?’

Foster only grinned.

A few moments later the horse trader was upon them demanding to know why they had assaulted his man. Foster said, ‘Assault? I should have your heads on pikes! Look at this animal!’

The man glanced at the horse and said, ‘What about him?’

Foster looked to Erik and said, ‘What about him?’

Erik suddenly found himself the center of attention of every man within view. He looked around and saw Calis and the leader of the city guardsmen coming out of the tavern. Someone had obviously alerted them to the possibility of danger.

Erik said, ‘He has a bad hoof. It’s cracked and festering, and it’s been painted over to look healthy.’

The man began a stream of protests, but then Calis said, ‘Is this true?’

Erik nodded. ‘It’s an old trick.’ He moved to the horse’s head and looked into his eyes, then inspected his mouth. ‘He’s been drugged. I don’t know what, but there are several drugs that will deaden the pain enough to make him not limp. Whatever they gave him is wearing off. He’s starting to show a hitch in his walk.’

Calis came up to the horse trader. ‘You were given this commission by our friend Regin of the Lion Clan, were you not?’

The man nodded, attempting to bluff. ‘I was. My word is bond from the City of the Serpent River to the Westlands. I will find whichever one of my misguided retainers is responsible and have the man beaten. Obviously someone is attempting to curry my favor, but I will have no cheating of good friends!’

Calis shook his head. ‘Fine. We shall inspect every animal, and for each one we reject, you will be fined the price of a sound horse as well. This is one, that means we get one other sound mount for no charge.’

When the man looked to the Captain of the company that had accompanied the horse man, he smiled. ‘Sounds fair to me, Mugaar.’

Seeing no relief, the man touched his hand to his heart. ‘It is done.’

As the defeated merchant stalked away, Calis said, ‘Hatonis, this is Erik von Darkmoor. He’ll be inspecting each animal. If you would see he’s not interfered with, I would be in your debt.’

Erik extended his hand. The man shook it with a firm grip. He was a soldier of middle years, but only a little grey took away his youth. He was strong and looked like a seasoned fighter.

‘My father would come back from the grave to haunt one such as that if he cast shame upon our clan,’ said the guard captain.

Turning to Erik, Calis said, ‘Can you vet more than a hundred horses by first light tomorrow?’

Erik glanced around and shrugged. ‘If I must.’

‘You must,’ said Calis, walking away.

Foster watched a moment, then turned to Erik. ‘Well, don’t just stand there. Get to it!’

Erik sighed in resignation and, looking around, called for some of the men in his company to lend a hand. He couldn’t get another expert to magically appear, but he needed men to walk and jog the animals and move the vetted ones to another location.

Taking a deep breath, he began with the closest horse.