Erik was the last to reach the horses, and found de Loungville holding his reins. He handed the girl’s body to the sergeant, mounted, then took the corpse as de Loungville handed her up to him. After the sergeant had mounted his own horse, Erik said, ‘You let them off easy.’
De Loungville said, ‘I know.’
‘They should have died over a slow fire.’
‘They deserved to suffer, but I’ll not visit that on any man.’
‘Why? Why do you care what happens to scum like them?’
De Loungville moved his horse alongside Erik’s, so he was almost nose-to-nose with Erik when he answered. ‘I don’t care what happens to scum like them. You could cut off a piece at a time over a week and I wouldn’t give a whore’s promise for what it would do to them. But I do care what it would do to you, Erik.’
Without waiting for an answer, de Loungville moved away and shouted, ‘Let’s get back to the village. We’ve got a hell of a ride before we catch up with the Captain.’
Erik rode after him, not sure what de Loungville had meant, but feeling troubled by what he had said.
They reached Calis’s camp an hour after dark. As before, he had ordered a complete fortification dug, and as de Loungville and the others approached, a guard challenged them.
‘Well done,’ said a weary de Loungville. ‘Now, lower the gate or I’ll rip your ears from your head.’
No one in Calis’s company could fail to recognize that voice, so without a further remark the drop bridge was run out across the trench surrounding the camp. The horses’ hooves clattered on the wood and iron as the riders crossed, and when they reached the center of the camp, Calis stood waiting.
‘Zila and the bandits joined up and fired the village. Most got away.’ He glanced at Erik. ‘They killed a girl and we killed the five of them that did it.’
Calis nodded, motioning for de Loungville to join him in his command tent. Erik took the reins of de Loungville’s horse and led him with his own to where the remounts were waiting. It took him better than an hour to cool down the horses, clean hooves and saddle marks, and bedded them down with fresh fodder. By the time he was finished, he was aching to his bones, and he knew it was more than just the fatigue of the ride and fighting. The killing of the men had been so effortless.
As he walked back to where his companions were erecting their tent, he recalled what he had done. The first man he had struck had been an obstacle, nothing more. He hadn’t been trying to decapitate him, only to brush him aside. Luis had said something later about its being a terrible blow, as was the cleaving of the second man Erik had faced, but Erik thought it a distant act, as if someone else had been doing the fighting. He could remember the smells: the smoke of the burning village and the campfire in the clearing, the stench of sweat and feces mixed in with the iron bite of blood and the stink of fear. He felt the shock of the blows he delivered running up his arm, and the pounding of his own blood in his forehead, but it was all distant, muted, and he couldn’t find it within himself to grapple with and understand what had occurred.
He knew he had wanted Embrisa’s killer to suffer. He knew he wanted the man to feel her pain a thousand times over, yet now he was dead, feeling nothing. If Biggo was to be believed, the man was being judged by the Death Goddess, but whatever the truth, he was feeling none of this life’s pain.
Maybe de Loungville was right. Erik thought he was the one who was now suffering, and it made him both sad and angry. He reached the tent and found that Roo had taken Erik’s section of tent and erected it, so that the six-man dwelling was up and waiting for him.
Erik looked at his boyhood friend and said, ‘Thank you.’
Roo said, ‘Well, you spend enough time looking out for my horse.’
‘And mine,’ said Biggo.
And everyone else’s,’ said Luis. ‘Do you think we should pay this boy for being so good to us?’
Erik looked over at Luis, whose sense of humor was rarely in evidence, and saw that the often short-tempered Rodezian was looking at him with a rare warmth in his expression.
Biggo said, ‘Well, maybe. Or we could do his bit with setting up and tearing down the tent, like we did tonight.’
‘I can manage my own weight,’ said Erik. ‘No one needs to do for me.’ He heard an irritation in his voice that was unexpected. Suddenly he discovered he was feeling very angry.
Biggo reached from his bedroll across the narrow aisle separating the three bunks on each side and said, ‘We know, lad. You do more than your share, that’s all. No one’s said anything, but you’ve become the Horsemaster for our little company of cutthroats.’
At the mention of the word ‘cutthroat’ Erik was struck by the image of the three men being butchered by de Loungville. Suddenly he felt sick and his body felt flushed, as if fever was coming over him. Closing his eyes a second, he said, ‘Thank you. I know you mean well …’ He paused for a moment, then stood as upright as he could in the low tent and walked away. ‘I’ll be back. I need some air.’
‘Guard duty in two hours,’ Roo called after him.
Walking through the camp, Erik tried to calm himself. He found his stomach clenched and he felt as if he might be sick. Running for the privy trench, he barely got there in time to keep from fouling his pants.
After agonizing minutes of squatting and feeling as if he was passing fire, he felt his stomach twist, and suddenly he was vomiting into the trench. When he at last finished, he felt as if he had no strength left. He went to the edge of the nearby stream and cleaned himself up, then he returned to the cookfire, where he found Owen Greylock helping himself to a bowl of stew and a hunk of bread.
Despite having lost everything in his gut only moments before, Erik was suddenly ravenous as he smelled the stew. He grabbed a wooden bowl as Owen greeted him and watched while Erik scooped out a large bowl of stew, ignoring the hot liquid as it covered his hand to the wrist.
‘Look out!’ said Owen. ‘Gods, you’re going to boil yourself.’
Erik lifted the bowl to his lips and took a long sip, then said, ‘Heat doesn’t bother me. I think it’s the years at the forge. Now, cold, that makes me hurt.’
Owen laughed. ‘Hungry?’
Erik tore a large piece of bread off one of the loaves on the serving table and said, ‘Can we talk for a minute?’
Owen motioned for Erik to sit on a log that had been felled to provide a rude bench for men eating. No one else was nearby save the two men who would clean up the cook area and ready it for the morning meal before turning in.
Owen said, ‘Where do you want to begin?’
Erik said, ‘I want to know how you got here, but first, can I ask you something?’
‘Certainly.’
‘When you kill a man, how does that make you feel?’
Owen was silent and then blew out his cheeks and let a long breath slowly escape. ‘That’s a difficult one, isn’t it?’ He fell silent a minute, then said, ‘I’ve killed men two ways, Erik. As my lord’s Swordmaster I was dispenser of the high justice and I’ve hung more than one man. It’s different each time, and never easy. And it depends on why I’m hanging them. Murderers, rapists, thugs, they … I don’t feel much of anything, except relief when it’s over. When it’s something dicey, like your execution was set to be, then it’s a nasty business. I feel like taking a long, long hot bath afterward, though I rarely get the chance.
‘When it comes to battle, things just happen too quickly and you’re usually too busy staying alive to think about it. Does that answer you?’
Erik nodded as he munched on soggy vegetables. ‘In a way. Did you ever want to see someone suffer?’
Owen scratched his head at this. ‘Can’t say as I have. I’ve wanted to see a few men dead, but suffer? Not really.’
‘I wanted to see a man feel pain today.’ Erik explained about Embrisa and how he had wanted to make her killer experience a long, slow, terrible death. When he finished, he added, ‘Then I found I could barely keep my arse closed. Flux and then throwing up. Then suddenly I’m here eating like nothing happened.’
‘Rage does strange things to you,’ Owen said. ‘You’re not going to like hearing this, I think, but the only two other men I’ve known who felt as you say you did were your father and … Stefan.’
Erik shook his head and laughed ruefully. ‘You’re right. I didn’t like hearing that.’
‘Your father only got that way with rage. If he was angry, he’d rather have seen his enemy injured and in pain than dead. But that was the only time.’ His voice lowered. ‘Stefan was worse. He really enjoyed watching people suffer. He got … excited by it. Your father had to bribe more than one father off because his daughter was … damaged.’
‘What about Manfred?’
Owen shrugged. ‘Given who his parents are, he’s a decent enough person. You’d like him, given a chance to know each other, but that’s neither here nor there.’ Owen studied Erik, then said, ‘I’ve known you a long time, since you were a baby, Erik, and while you have some of your father in you, you don’t have only your father’s blood in you. Your mother can be a hard woman, but she was never a mean one. She’s never hurt anyone for pleasure. And you can bet that Stefan was the worst mix of his father and mother.
‘I think I can understand why you’d be so ferocious with the man who killed the girl. You were fond of her, I take it?’
‘In a way.’ Erik smiled. ‘She tried to cozen me into her bed so she could be the village smith’s wife.’ He shook his head in regret. ‘She was so obvious and there was no art to it, but in a way …’
‘It made you feel good?’
‘Yes.’
Owen nodded. ‘We all have our vanity, and a pretty girl’s attentions are rarely unwelcomed by any man.’
‘But it doesn’t explain why I wanted to see that man hurt so much. I can still feel it, Owen. If I could raise him from the dead and cause him to scream in agony, I think I’d do it.’
‘Justice, maybe. The girl died in agony, and he got a simple death in return.’
A voice from the dark said, ‘Sometimes revenge goes disguised as justice.’
Both Owen and Erik turned to see Nakor entering from the darkness. ‘I was out walking and heard you talk. Sounds like an interesting discussion.’ Without asking their leave, he sat down.
Erik said, ‘I was telling Owen here what happened today. Have you heard?’
Nakor nodded. ‘Sho Pi told me. You were in a rage. You wanted to cause this man pain. Bobby kept you from indulging in his suffering.’
Erik nodded.
Nakor said, ‘Some men take to the pain in others the way other men take to strong drink or potent drugs. If you recognize that appetite in yourself early and learn to master it within yourself, you’ll be the better man for knowing, Erik.’
‘I don’t know what I wanted,’ Erik admitted. ‘I don’t know if it was that he didn’t suffer enough or if I really wanted to see something in his eyes as he died.’
Owen said, ‘Most soldiers are struck by others’ death after the fact. That you got sick –’
Nakor said, ‘You got sick?’
‘Like I had eaten green apples,’ admitted Erik.
Nakor grinned. ‘Then you’re not a man to eat poison and like it. If you hadn’t gotten sick, it would be because that poison of hate found a home in your gut.’ He reached over and poked a finger into Erik’s side. ‘You ate the hatred, but your body threw it up as if it were those green apples.’ He smiled, apparently satisfied with the explanation. ‘Do your reiki each night and let your mind seek calmness and you will survive the terrors you’ve just met.’
Owen and Erik exchanged looks that said neither man knew what Nakor was talking about. Erik said, ‘Now tell me how you came here?’
Owen said, ‘That was due to you.’
‘Me?’
Owen said, ‘When you were caught, my lady Mathilda and your half brother raced to Krondor, to ensure the Prince knew you were to be hung without question.
‘When we got there, I asked a friend in the Prince’s court to grant me an audience with Nicholas, and I tried to give him some idea of how you’d been dealt with as a child.’ He shrugged. ‘It obviously didn’t do any good, as you were to be hung, and the Dowager Baroness discovered I had tried to intercede upon your behalf.’ He looked at Erik and smiled. ‘I was asked to retire from my office. Manfred said he regretted to ask, but she is his mother, after all.’
‘I’ve never met her, but she seems a most persuasive woman, by all reports,’ offered Nakor.
‘That’s one way of putting it,’ said Owen. ‘Well, there isn’t a great demand for discharged Swordmasters, so I applied to the Prince’s Guard for a billet. I was prepared to stand down to man-at-arms if needs be, or to attempt to gain a commission on the frontier. Failing that, I was going to try my hand at the mercenary trade, providing escort for merchant trains down into the Vale of Dreams and Great Kesh.
‘But that black heart Bobby de Loungville found me at a tavern and got me very drunk, and I woke up the next day and discovered I was going to be running like a madman from Questor’s View to Land’s End on one errand or another for Prince Nicholas and Calis.’
Owen continued, ‘That’s a strange customer, our Captain. Did you know he ranks in the court as a Duke?’
Erik said, ‘I only know him as –’
‘The Eagle of Krondor,’ finished Owen. ‘I know. He’s important, that’s all I know. But when the dust settled, I was on the Freeport Ranger, with a list of missions to last three months, and one month to finish them when we made port in Maharta.’
Erik finished his food and said, ‘Sorry to have put you to this, Owen.’
Owen laughed. ‘It was in the cards, as the gamblers say. And truth to tell, I was growing bored at Darkmoor. The wine’s the best in the world, and the women as fair as anywhere, but there’s little else to stir a man there. I’ve grown tired of hanging bandits and running escort from one safe city to another. I think it’s time for something grand.’
Nakor shook his head. ‘There’s little grand ahead of us.’ He stood up, yawning. ‘I’m going to sleep. We have three long days ahead.’
‘Why?’ asked Erik.
‘While you were killing those men, we got word of a rendezvous.’
‘What is that?’ asked Erik. ‘I’ve heard that term before.’
‘Meeting,’ said Owen.
‘A great camp,’ offered Nakor. With a grin he said, ‘It is where the two sides in this war will come to make offers for the service of companies like ours. It’s where we will find the army of this Emerald Queen, and then friend Greylock’s adventure will begin.’ He wandered off into the gloom.
Owen said, ‘He may be the strangest man I’ve met. I’ve only talked to him a couple of times since yesterday, but he has some of the oddest notions I’ve ever encountered. But he’s right about one thing: it’s a long day tomorrow and we both need to sleep.’
Erik nodded and took Owen’s bowl. ‘I’ll wash that up. I’m doing mine anyway.’
‘Thank you.’
‘And thank you,’ replied Erik.
‘For what?’
‘For talking.’
Owen put his hand upon Erik’s shoulder. ‘Anytime, Erik. Good night.’ He walked after Nakor.
Erik went to the bucket used to clean the wooden bowls and rinsed them with water, scoured them with cleaning sand, then rinsed with fresh water again. He put the bowls where the men who would make the morning mess would expect to find them, and returned to his own tent.
The others were sleeping, except Roo, who said, ‘Are you all right?’
Erik sighed and said, ‘I don’t know. But I am better.’
Roo seemed about to make a remark, then thought better of it and turned over to go to sleep. Erik lay in the darkness, and while he intended to practice the self-healing Nakor had taught him, sleep was on him less than a minute after Roo.
The camp was immense. At least ten thousand armed men were scattered across a low valley that ran from the hills on the east to the river on the west. Cutting through the middle was a smaller tributary to the Vedra, and along this smaller river camps had been made.
The brokers who were conducting the contracts were arrayed under a large canopy, ocher in color, at the heart of the valley. Erik rode with his companions in their usual position near the head of the column, near enough to Calis to overhear his conversations with the men around him.
Praji pointed. ‘Some of those banners are damn strange; I thought I knew every company worth talking about in this gods-forsaken continent.’ He glanced around. ‘Some of these others are a long way from home.’
‘How is it shaping up?’ asked de Loungville.
‘It’s early yet. Khaipur fell less than a month ago. If the Emerald Queen’s representatives get here in the next week I’ll be surprised. But I’ll bet you a whore’s hoard that the Priest-King of Lanada is spending money like a sailor in port.’ Looking around, he said, ‘We’d better head up the valley and see if there’s anywhere good near the river.’ He sniffed the air. ‘With the number of these fools pissing in the water after they get drunk, downstream’s the last place I want to be.’
De Loungville laughed. ‘Looks like the best places are taken.’
‘Only if you like the taste of another man’s piss in your water,’ said Praji. ‘This is just the start. The word’s been about for five years now. There’s a big war to end all wars coming, and any man with a sword who doesn’t get in now will be out of the looting.’ He shook his head. ‘Doesn’t make much sense, does it? You’d think any man with eyes in his head could see –’
Calis cut him off with an upraised hand. ‘Not here. Too many ears.’
Praji nodded. ‘Look for a red eagle banner, twin to your own. That’ll be Vaja if he’s found his way here.’
Calis nodded.
They rode into the camp area, and Erik felt his pulse race. Never had so many pairs of eyes regarded him with suspicion. The rendezvous was neutral ground, where both sides in the coming conflict could recruit mercenary companies to their cause, openly bidding against one another, and tradition bound every man who entered sight of the tent to keep his sword sheathed. But tradition and enforceable law were two different things, and more than once a battle had erupted at such a meeting. Men in this camp knew only that those in their own company were allies. Anyone else might be someone they would see across the field of battle mere days or weeks after leaving the rendezvous.
They passed by the large yellowish tent, though on the other side of the water, as they picked their way upriver, and away from the main body of men camping. Calis found a small rise with a flat top that gave a commanding view of the valley below and motioned to de Loungville that they would camp there. ‘No fortifications; it’s against the compact, but I want double guard. When the whores come by, let the men indulge, but no strong drink and no drugs – chase the peddlers away. I’ll not have some fool start a war because he sees the ghost of some enemy in the smoke and pulls his sword.’
De Loungville nodded and gave the order. Without the need to dig a trench and rampart, making camp took little time. When Erik’s squad had finished erecting their tent, Foster came by and gave the rotation for guard duty. Erik groaned when he was told the second watch, which was from midnight to two hours before dawn. Sleep interrupted was as good as not sleeping from his point of view.
Still, after three days in the saddle, a little time to lie around would be welcome. And if he had the midnight watch tonight, that meant the dawn watch tomorrow, and the day after, no watch at all. He found that a little gratifying, and was glad to have found any reason to feel good whatsoever.
Trumpets blew and Erik came awake with a start. They had been in camp for five days now and he was back to a split night of guard duty. He rolled out of his tent and saw that everyone was looking down into the valley below.
Roo came to his side and laughed. ‘Looks like an anthill with a stick in it.’
Erik laughed, for Roo was right. There was motion everywhere. Then Foster was hurrying through camp shouting, ‘Every man to horse! We muster for inspection!’
Erik and Roo turned and went back into their low tent, grabbing their swords and shields. They hurried to where other men were already saddling their horses and got theirs ready. When the order to fall in came, they swung up into the saddle and moved the horses to their position in the column. Foster rode by and said, ‘Rest awhile, lads. The shopping is beginning and you’ll be doing little for a day. When the brokers come by, do your best to look fierce.’
This got a laugh, and Jadow Shati’s bass voice carried from somewhere back in line. ‘Just put Jerome in front, man. That will scare them, don’t you know!’
This brought another laugh, and then de Loungville’s voice cut through the air. ‘Next man who says anything better make me laugh, or he’ll wish his mother had taken holy vows of celibacy before he was born!’
The company fell silent.
A hour later the sound of riders came from up the valley and Erik turned to see a small company of a dozen men heading their way. At their head was a large man, grey of hair, but otherwise young-looking. He wore foppish regalia, and obviously had put much thought into his appearance, despite being covered with road dust. At his side rode another carrying a crimson eagle banner.
‘Vaja!’ cried Praji as they pulled up. ‘You sorry old peacock! I thought someone had killed you out of mercy. What took you so long?’
The other man, handsome despite his years, laughed, and said, ‘You found them. If I hadn’t heard of the rendezvous I would still be on my way down to the City of the Serpent River looking for our good Captain and this company of sorry fools.’
Calis came riding over as Vaja and his men dismounted. ‘You’ve come just in time. The muster begins today.’
Vaja looked around. ‘There’s plenty of time yet. We’ll have three or four days of this at least. Are both sides here?’
‘No word of the Emerald Queen’s agents. Just the Priest-King,’ answered Calis.
Vaja said, ‘Good. That gives me ample time to bathe and eat. You won’t be taking any offer for days.’
Calis said, ‘You know that and I know that, but if we’re to be convincing, they’ – he hiked his thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the brokers’ tent – ‘can’t know that. We have to look as if we’re weighing all offers equally.’
‘Understood,’ said Vaja. ‘But I still have time for a bath. I’ll be back in an hour.’ He turned and led his companions away.
Praji said, ‘Twenty-nine years I’ve fought at his side, and I swear to this day no man more vain exists on this world. He’d primp for his own execution.’
Calis smiled, and Erik realized it was one of the few times he had ever seen the Captain smile.
For days they would muster on command, and brokers would come by to look over the company. With Vaja’s men and the men under Hatonis, they numbered better than one hundred swords: a significant enough troop to be taken seriously, but not so large as to bear special scrutiny.
After the third such day, offers began to come in and Calis listened to them politely. He remained noncommittal.
A week after the mustering had started, Erik noticed a few companies departing. He asked Praji about this over supper, and the old mercenary said, ‘They’ve signed on with the Priest-King. Probably poor captains running low on gold to pay their men. They have to find employment quickly or lose their fighters to richer companies. Most are waiting around to hear what the other side has to offer.’
Still more days passed and the other side didn’t appear.
Two weeks after arriving, Erik had requested permission to move the horses upriver, as they had grazed the area clean, and the hay and grain brokers were charging outrageous prices. Calis gave permission, but instructed Erik to make sure a full guard company surrounded the animals at all times.
Another week went by.
Almost a month after arriving, Erik was walking back from having checked the horses, a three-times-daily ritual now, to hear a series of loud trumpet calls from the heart of the camp. The weather was hot, the hottest part of the summer, he had been told by one of the clansmen, and soon summer would be waning. It felt odd to lose a winter, to leave in fall and return to spring. Erik was sure Nakor could explain this backwards season to him, but he wasn’t sure he was up for hearing the little man’s explanation.
