The Chronicles of Hvad Ch. 13

The horse holder backed away, raising one empty hand while he held the reins of four horses in the other. He was no threat. So I turned about.

The fourth of Dagnis' men was sidling towards me, trying to get close without making too much noise. He was hoping to stab me in the back, while I was facing the other way.

That's when the other three appeared. They had probably left their horses behind the inn. They came up behind their comrade, weapons drawn.

Four of them. With two of their friends down behind me, they wouldn't underestimate me. They would be careful. I had no tricks for dealing with four enemies. Running might be an option.

The front door of the inn opened. Captain Ingram stepped out, followed by his nephew and a dark-skinned woman. They took in the situation immediately.

Ingram drew his sword, followed a moment later by his nephew, Lir. They both took a few steps closer to me.

- "What is this?" shouted Ingram.

Meanwhile, the woman did something even more useful. She darted back into the inn, and shouted: "Boys! We need you! Now!"

Half a dozen men burst out of the inn a moment later. Two had daggers, one held a spear. The other three held a tankard, a broom, and a table leg. But it would have taken very determined attackers to stay and take on so many brave fellows.

Dagnis' men were neither determined, nor particularly bright. They ran for their horses, and fled, leaving two of their number dead or wounded on the ground.

- "Did you do this?" asked Ingram.

- "They meant to kill me." I answered.

- "This one's still alive." said the dark-skinned girl. I had my first good look at her. She was almost as tall as me, stocky and broad-shouldered. She proudly bore a prodigious bosom before her. She had long, light-brown hair, braided into a ponytail.

Her lips were thick, and she had a large, aquiline nose which dominated her face. She put her hands on her hips, and glared at the two men I had felled.

- "This one is still alive. Do you need him for questioning?"

She was speaking to Ingram, but she looked my way as well, including me in her question.

- "Keep him alive." I said.

The dark-skinned woman nodded.

- "Alright." she said. Then she turned to Ingram. "He can stay here - if he has money." she said.

I knew that she was referring to me. Most merchants would have wanted nothing to do with a man who brought a fight to their establishment - even if he was the (relatively) innocent victim. But this woman was prepared to take me in.

I think that I fell in love with her at that moment.

***

Borna wanted proof of an Izumyrian invasion. It was everywhere, in many shapes and forms. There were hundreds of men training. Dagnis was here, with his followers (minus two, now). The talk in the inns and taverns was all about 'the expedition', as they called it. The Duke was said to be failing. He had only months to live, according to some. Others gave him a few weeks, at most.

How to bring any of this proof home? Even if I kidnapped Dagnis, and somehow carried him back across the Grey river, would he confess? I was having trouble deciding how to fulfill my mission.

- "You'll figure it out." Borna had said. I wished that I could share his confidence.

I was alone, and lonely. I missed Payl, and worried about our unborn child. Would we marry, and raise it together? How could that work, the union of a Hand and the leader of a band of warrior women? It would be up to Payl.

Hanging over all of our futures was the threat of this invasion. If they came in their thousands, I wasn't sure that Borna could defeat them, even with a united Hvad behind him. He needed proof. And I had no idea how to get it.

But the attempt on my life had several unforeseen consequences.

First, Dagnis must have complained about me to his Izumyrian friends. Captain Ingram came to get me on the training field. I wasn't hard to find - I went there every day to watch the Izumyrian warriors - or soldiers, as they called themselves. I wasn't entirely sure of the difference, but it struck me as somehow significant.

He had two burly fellows with him. They weren't members of his lance.

- "Preet. You must come with us." he said.

They escorted me to a large tent, where two more men guarded the entrance.

"I have to wait here." said Ingram. "Go with these men."

They took both of my knives, and then ushered me inside. It was darker, there, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. There was a small trestle table, covered with scrolls. One was spread open, and looked to me more like a drawing than words. Of course, I couldn't read Izumyrian, so I had no way of knowing if any of these papers contained the information I needed.

So I concentrated on the man behind the table. There was a chair, but he was standing, reading one of the scrolls. I assumed that this was Baron Voss, Ingram's superior. My two escorts stood silently, waiting, so I did the same.

The Baron was younger than I expected. He had a thick head of hair, worn much longer than most of the Izumyrian soldiers I had seen. His mustache was a bit thin, and his beard had that soft, downy look of a young man's first growth.

He didn't strike me as the warrior type. He resembled Imants, to a degree - except for the dagger at his belt, and the studded leather jerkin he wore.

He had large, sensitive eyes. I watched their progress across and down the scroll he was reading. When he reached the very bottom, his eyes lifted. He glanced at me, briefly, took in the two men standing to either side, then returned to his reading.

That was rude. I'm a reasonably patient man, but Izumyrians had a way of getting under my skin. So I coughed. Loudly.

The Baron looked up. He seemed more surprised than angry. Perhaps he was unaccustomed to being interrupted.

- "Is this the Fadi?" he asked.

- "Yes, my Lord." answered my escorts.

The young Baron looked me up and down, once. Apparently he didn't see anything worth looking at twice.

- "Lord Dagnis accuses you of the murder of two of his men." he said.

I laughed aloud. "Really? Is this what you call it when three men try to kill me, and I kill two of them?"

- "You speak Izumyrian?"

- "I try."

- "So you claim that they attacked you first?"

I shook my head. "No. At Golden Pheasant, I broke one nose with my - " Damn it. I couldn't remember the word. I lifted my arm, and touched my elbow. "My ... arm."

- "Your elbow?" said the Baron.

- "Yes. Elbow. And I smash one head into a beam. Another man."

- "Why?" he asked.

- "They ask me for money, to buy drink. When I refuse, they insult me. I must teach them respect. After this, they follow me to second inn, and try to kill me."

The Baron looked thoughtful. "Can anyone corroborate your claim?"

- "I beg your pardon?" I had no idea what he had just said.

- "Is there anyone else who can support what you say? Witnesses?"

- "Ah! Yes - Captain Ingram. His nephew Lir. Dark lady at Marga inn, outside city. Everyone who was inside. They come out."

Now the Baron looked surprised.

- "Where is Captain Ingram?"

He was probably addressing my escorts, but I answered him anyway. "Outside."

- "Bring him in."

When Ingram entered, he dropped to one knee.

- "Highness." he said. "At your service."

Oops.

This was Barsam, the Duke's son.

- "What did you see, Captain?" he asked.

Ingram told the whole story, completely, but succinctly. He included my request to be moved to another inn. Then he described what had occurred outside the Marga - from his perspective.

"Master Preet - would you wait outside?"

Out I went. Lir was summoned a little later. I had to laugh at myself. I had adopted a bold course, thinking that I was dealing with a baron. Now I knew that I had interrupted the Duke's son. I had taken his arrogance for bad manners. But who here was his equal? He would've had few opportunities to learn humility.

But Barsam had ended up giving me more of a hearing than he had originally planned to. I was sure of that. If I'd been unable to speak Izumyrian, he would have taken Dagnis at his word - and I would be on my way to my execution this very moment. Bless you, Keptel!

Instead, my boldness had impressed him enough to give me a chance.

When they brought me back into the tent, Barsam was seated behind the table.

- "Master Preet." he said. "You didn't tell me the truth."

I glanced at Ingram, but he was smiling.

"You said that you fought three men." continued the Prince. "Now I hear that there were eight of them."

- "I only fought three. Two held horses. The rest arrive later."

- "Tell me how you did it. One against three." he ordered.

I described the encounter in detail. Barsam interrupted several times, to ask for even more precision. He had me reproduce my footwork, the angle of my knife thrust ... everything. He was a fanatic for detail, and enthousiastic about everything related to fighting. He even asked the guards to bring in my long knife so that he could inspect it.

Barsam hefted my weapon in his hand, testing its weight and balance. It might be that he knew very few people who had actually been in combat, or who had seen a real battle. His next question confirmed it for me.

- "How many men have you killed, Preet?"

- "I ... I have no count."

- "You've lost count? Or you don't count? Try, though - how many?"

I had to think about it. The first men I killed had been sleeping, in Asrava's hall. I slit their throats while they were sleeping. How many had I killed, in ambushes, skirmishes and battles?

- "Twenty." I answered. "Maybe few more."

It was the right answer. Barsam was definitely happy with my response.

- "Captain Ingram, I would like to see this man again tomorrow. In the afternoon. Make sure that he is here."

- "As my Lord commands." said Ingram.

***

We waited outside the Prince's tent all afternoon. It was a complete waste of time. He never called for me. In the late afternoon, he issued from the tent, with a couple of older men, in armour. All three mounted up and rode off, without so much as a glance in our direction.

It would have taken only an instant to dismiss us. Or two instants to apologize for keeping us waiting all day. Captain Ingram made no mention of it. Perhaps he saw nothing out of the ordinary. But I was furious. Borna would never disrespect a warrior like this.

We waited the next day, too, in case the Prince should summon me. By midday, though, I'd had enough.

- "You can wait here, Captain." I said. Then I pointed across the training field, where scores of armoured riders were wheeling and advancing as a unit. "I will go there and watch horses."

- "You can't." he said, genuinely alarmed. "The Prince could call for you at any moment."

- "Then I will be over there. Wave your arm, and I will come."

- "You don't understand, Preet. You can't keep Barsam waiting."

- "He keeps me waiting all day. This is wasting my time."

- "Preet." said Lir. "You can't keep a Prince waiting. It is we who must wait on him."

- "You wait, then." I replied. "You are Izumyrian. I am Hvadi warrior. He is not my Prince. He must understand I am different." I mounted my pony.

- "Preet." pleaded Ingram.

- "When I want to see your Prince, maybe I kill someone else, to get his attention."

I suspect that Ingram told someone higher up immediately after I left. That evening, they informed me that Barsam wanted to see me first thing in the morning.

As you might have guessed, he kept us waiting again. So at midday I rode away again.

It was a calculated risk on my part. I still had no plan for acquiring the proof that Borna wanted. But if I could get close to Barsam, I might be able to discover his plans, and find some way to frustrate them.

Borna wanted me to be a spy. For that role, I would need access. Barsam would have to see me as more than a curiosity. I had to become a useful, valuable tool - but a temperamental one. If I did his bidding without question, as Ingram and others did, he would have little respect for me - he would keep me waiting all day.

I needed to pique his curiosity, and to establish a relationship with him that was based on my terms as much as his.

He kept me waiting another day - to make a point, I suppose. Ingram and Lir had trouble meeting my eyes while we sat outside Barsam's tent. They did tell me, though, that the two men who rode away with him were barons - Voss and Kaim.

Finally, I was escorted into his presence again. Baron Voss was there. He was an older man, with fleshy jowls and a quivering double chin beneath his trimmed grey beard.

- "You don't like waiting, Master Preet?" was the first thing Barsam said.

- "I am patient, Lord. When it serves a purpose. Hunting. Or lying in ambush. But to keep me outside your tent is a waste of my time."

- "By the Stars, the fellow's impudent enough!" said Voss.

- "Master Preet is a killer." said Barsam. "He may believe that this entitles him to take certain ... liberties. You didn't know this, Baron Voss, but this man threatened to kill two of our men-at-arms because he didn't like the way they looked at him."

- "What are 'liberties'?" I asked. I knew damn well what they were, but I wanted to remind the Dukeling that we didn't speak the same language. I could also use the extra moment, while he explained, to consider my answer.

"Ah." I said. "I see, Lord. You mistake me for one of your soldiers." I gave that last word a particular twist.

Barsam's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You think yourself superior to my soldiers?"

- "We have people, in Hvad, who come running when we call. They will wait to be told what to do. We call them slaves."

- "How dare you!" sputtered Voss.

I held up a hand. "To answer your question, Lord: I do not know if I am superior to your soldiers. I have never fought one. But I am different. I am Hvadi warrior. If you intend to conquer Hvad -"

- "What?" choked Voss.

It was Barsam's turn to hold up a hand. "What makes you say that? Why do you think we are planning an invasion?"

I laughed in his face. "You think it is secret? You train hundreds of men here - for what? To defend your city? Your people discuss the weather, health of your father, and invasion - and not always in that order."

- "Alright. Let's concede the point. What were you going to say, Preet? 'If I intend to conquer Hvad '..."

- "If you invade Hvad, you must show respect for warriors. Unless you wish to fight every last one. There are men, like me, who hate Borna. But they will not fight for you, or stand aside, if you disrespect them."

"You may think: I do not need these warriors. But if you treat them as you have treated me - you will have to kill them all. Because they will not stop fighting you."

- "Interesting." said Barsam.

- "Your Highness -" sputtered Voss.

- "Thank you, Baron Voss. That will be all."

Voss gobbled and clucked, like a finicky chicken, but he obeyed, and left us alone with the two burly guards. Once the baron was gone, Barsam asked me: "Was that better?"

- "Was what better?"

- "Was that polite enough?" said Barsam. "When I asked Baron Voss to leave?"

I laughed again. "Lord, if you tell Hvadi warrior to leave, like this ..." - I waved a hand in dismissal - "then you must never turn your back on this man again. He will try to kill you, for shaming him."

- "Really?" I could tell that Barsam was intrigued.

- "Lord - understand this: Hvadi warriors are proud, and fierce. If you forget that they are proud, you will find out how fierce they can be."

- "Why did I never get that impression from Ban Dagnis?" Barsam asked me.

I sighed. "Lord, I have not the words - how do you say: he wants to be Izumyrian more than Hvadi."

- "What makes you say that?"

- "People talk, in Hvad. They say it about his brother, Leho, but even more about Dagnis."

From the look in his eyes, Barsam knew exactly what I was talking about.

- "Master Preet, you and I need to talk - about many things. If I promise not to keep you waiting, would you be willing to ... advise me? About Fad?"

I pretended to think about it for a moment.

- I can, Lord. But it is expensive, to stay in your inn. I may need more coins."

The Duke's son smiled. "That can be arranged." he said.

***

That was the first unintended benefit of killing Dagnis' men. The second was that I began to sleep at the Marga. I was still careful, though, in case of retaliation from Dagnis. I went to and from the training field at different times, and by slightly different routes, careful not to establish a predictable pattern. Some nights, I slept on my saddle, next to the Izumyrian tents.

Just as Lir had said, the inn served good food, and excellent beer. It was a big, rambling two-story building, with half a dozen tables in the common area, and four rooms for guests upstairs. The Marga was larger - and more luxurious - than either Gosdan's or Asrava's Great Halls.

It had been built four generations before, by the nephew of an enterprising merchant. This man, Achard, had bought himself a dark-skinned slave woman, captured by Izumyrian raiders in some faraway war. He fathered two children on her. One was a beautiful female child, whom Achard loved enough to treat as his own. He named her Marga.

Achard had no legitimate sons by his lawful wife, and so ownership of the inn passed to one Orthaire, who married Marga and took over her father's inn. They ran it together. Their two sons perished in a terrible outbreak of the plague, which swept through Lacine before vanishing as mysteriously as it had come. They left behind one child - a girl - Dulo.

This was the dark-skinned woman who had intervened to save me. Her grandmother, Marga, had passed away, so that she ran the inn with her grandfather, Orthaire. They were both well-respected by the locals, and by their regular patrons.

I began to see why almost immediately. Their food was of good quality - at a lower price than I had been paying at the Golden Pheasant. The beer was indeed excellent, and I drank far too much of it.

Word of the fight outside the inn spread rapidly, so that in the evening, people came just to look at me. At least, that's the way it seemed. It was just curiosity, so I didn't take offence.

But here's just one example to show you how special the Marga was.

After four nights there, I was sitting at a table by myself, enjoying a late meal and a jug of their superlative ale. Our hostess, Dulo, made a point of asking me how I liked it.

- "Your food is very good." I answered. It did not escape my notice that a dozen people were listening to our exchange. "It is better, and cheaper than at Golden Pheasant. But your beer -" I lifted the jug and poured another measure into my cup - "your beer is better than good."

- "Thank you, Master Preet." said Dulo, as she stood beside me. Then she deliberately placed her hand on my shoulder, and gave it a squeeze.

"You are welcome here." she said, loud and clear. "Very welcome."

I raised my head, to thank her, only to realize that she wasn't looking at me. Instead, she was glaring at the other patrons of her inn. The message was perfectly clear. They would accept me - or they would face her displeasure.

Dulo mispronounced my name - Priit's name, actually[2] - exactly as Barsam did. But she treated me with considerable respect from the outset - and demanded that her other patrons do the same.

She shamed them into it, but from that night onwards, most of her customers came over to ask if they could sit at my table, and buy me a beer. I was touched by these gestures - and of course replied in kind. I drank far more than I intended - but met quite a few very good people.