Keep on the Borderlands

3

Blorys sighed wearily, breaking the startled silence that followed his brothers words. “Jers, you’re mad.”

“Mad? Why?”

The younger man merely shook his head.

“All right, Blor, it may be only another Keep rumor, but if someone’s going to hunt down these bandits, why not us? We did all right this morning, didn’t we?”

“Against a band of poorly trained, ragged men like that, we did.”

“We were still outnumbered,” Jerdren reminded him, “and set on by surprise.” He drank wine, set the cup down, and began turning it between square, freckled hands, his eyes absently fixed on the contents. “Could be you’re right, Blor. I am getting bored with the same routine, year in and year out. Sure, it takes a good man to plan a journey across the realm, especially out to the borderlands, to bring a caravan through safely.”

“Or woman,” Eddis remarked dryly. Jerdren gazed at her blankly and finally shrugged.

“Oh—right,” he said.

“Look,” Blorys said, “Mebros’ always been one for spinning a good yarn. How do you know this isn’t another of them?”

“Could be,” Jerdren allowed, “but I don’t think so. He got it direct from one of the men who watches the inner gates, and that fellow is good friends with one of the castellan’s personal guard. That’s not the same as market rumor, is it?”

“Save the argument for later,” Eddis said. “Just tell us.”

“All right,” Jerdren said. “What he said is that up until this summer, there’ve been the usual raids on travelers and caravans. You know. A few men preying on lone wagons, harrying riders. Mostly, they’ve been unorganized and easily driven off. But recently, the attacks have increased, and the raiders seem better armed, better organized. Mebros says all evidence points to a large band, a camp of fifty or more men—soldier-trained.”

“The men who attacked us this morning were organized, but I wouldn’t call them well trained,” Blorys pointed out.

Jerdren shook his head. “From what Mebros said, I don’t think they were part of this local band. He says they wear a patch or badge of some kind—a bit of dark green on one sleeve. Our bunch might have been a raiding party moving through the area, or maybe men looking to join up with the local band.” He waved that aside. “Mebros says it’s near certain there’s at least one camp close by, but it’s also fairly sure they move often. Still, a large band of men, I’m thinking they’d have two or three regular sites up in the hills they go to, near the river or across rock, so they’d leave no obvious trail. Far enough away that the castellan can’t afford to send men looking for them but near enough to keep watch on the road.”

“That still covers a lot of rough ground,” Eddis said.

“Exactly.” Jerdren grinned at her. “And most of the castellan’s men are guards. They’re best at manning the walls here.”

“So what, Jers?” his brother asked dryly. “You’re suggesting that the five of us go looking for a well-armed group of fifty or more? Track them down ourselves and bring them down? That’s high odds even for you, isn’t it?”

“Well—”

“Forget it, Jerdren,” Eddis cut him off flatly. “Those aren’t my kind of odds. Personally, I’m still happy guarding merchant carts. The money’s good, and I don’t have to answer to some captain or… or castellan, either.”

“I didn’t say just us,” the man protested. “The men I hired up north might want to join us, and there should be a few more like us here. Besides, Mebros says there’s to be a decent reward and a call for volunteers from the guard—”

“Who are men fit only to guard the walls, according to you,” Eddis broke in sharply. “I don’t like it, Jerdren. Too much ‘if and maybe’ to your story, and besides, every time we run into each other, there’s trouble. Usually started by you.”

“Eddis?” M’Baddah spoke up for the first time. “Perhaps M’Whan and I should go learn what we can before you and Jerdren argue the matter further.”

Why bother? she thought sourly. All the same, she at least needed to discuss things with M’Baddah—privately.

Jerdren nodded. “Sure, M’Baddah, that’s the spirit! Blor and I can talk to men we know in the barracks, and we’ll meet back here later. Fair enough, Eddis?”

Silence.

“Look, this isn’t like running into each other some place like Lower Vale. This would be a job. We’d plan it, like a regular campaign. What could go wrong?” The gleam was back in his eyes. “You know, when Mebros told me, all I could think was, ‘Why not us?’ Then, when I heard you had just ridden in, Eddis, it all—came together. It’s a chance for…”

“Fame, wealth and glory?” Blorys asked sourly as the older man hesitated.

“What’s wrong with fame and glory, Blor?”

“What’s wrong with living to a ripe old age?” Eddis asked as she pushed to her feet. “Look, M’Baddah’s right. Why sit here arguing over what might be wild rumor? I want to know what’s involved. What we’d have to accomplish, how much help we’d get from the Keep, what size of a reward….”

Blorys laid a hand on his brother’s arm. “Wait, Jers. You’ve had your say. I agree with M’Baddah and Eddis. Let’s go learn what we can. We could meet back here later, if there’s more than rumor to go on.”

“One more thing, Jerdren,” Eddis said. “If your rumor proves true, and we decide to go in with you, and if the castellan decides we’re what he wants—or what he’s willing to settle for, you and I are equals in this. Got me?”

“Equals—well, sure! But—?”

“That means I get equal say with you on who’s chosen to go with us, how things are planned, and who sits in on the planning sessions—all of it, all the way. I am not joining you, Jerdren. We two are working together, or you can start looking elsewhere for your fighting force, got it?”

The man nodded. She glanced at his younger brother, who gave her an apologetic smile. “Blorys, you’ll be back here maybe an hour after sundown?”

He smiled faintly and nodded. “We’ll be here.”

The wind had died away, and afternoon sun cast long shadows, warming the stone walls and paving. Eddis strode across the square and over to the fountain, M’Baddah at her elbow and M’Whan close behind. Water burbled from a central pillar, falling back into the shallow stone bowl. It was much cooler here, and quiet. Private, for the moment. Most of the local people she could see were dismantling the morning market stalls across the courtyard, while a few customers haggled over the last fruits and baskets of tubers. Eddis settled her elbows and the small of her back against the stone lip and looked at her companions.

“You hadn’t heard about this mad venture?” she asked.

M’Baddah shrugged.

M’Whan shook his head.

“This Mebros could be pulling a joke on Jerdren. He’d have friends like that. Still, say it’s true. Say the castellan would pick people like us to clean up these bandits, give us what aid we needed, and reward us if we succeeded. Say even that between you two, Blorys, and me, we can keep Jerdren in check. Are we interested?”

Silence, which she broke. “For myself—I don’t know. I’ve worked hard to build this business and a good reputation. It’s good coin, steady work. Why trade that for an unknown?”

Her lieutenant raised an eyebrow. “Because a good warrior always seeks challenge, but we could return to the road, once the task is done. For the challenge alone, I say we should go.”

M’Whan merely nodded.

“All right.” Eddis sighed faintly. “I just wish Jerdren wasn’t involved. I hardly feel comfortable sharing a table with him in the tavern, but if he went off on some wild scheme of his own out there, it could get us killed.”

“No,” M’Baddah said. “We know he is… excitable. We plan for that. As his brother no doubt must, all the time.”

Eddis looked back toward the inn and laughed. “Poor Blorys, he probably does.” She turned to her two confidants. “So then, we’re in. Let’s split up and go learn what we can.”

She returned to the tavern just as the sun was setting. Ruddy light moved quickly off the highest towers, and a chill wind swept across the courtyard, blowing dust and fine spray from the fountain. Eddis shivered and lengthened her stride.

It was warm inside the tavern and much busier than it had been earlier. People crowded the near trestles. She waited just inside the doorway for her eyes to adjust, her mind full of useless bits of information gathered over the past hour. The innkeeper claimed to be too busy to know about anything outside his own walls, but the man’s son had heard there was to be a scouting party to look for the bandit camp. Following his suggestion, she’d talked to Khalidd the trader, but Khalidd was no help. He’d merely had the tale from Mebros. Ghor the smith was busy shoeing horses, so Eddis had had no opportunity to ask him anything.

She’d picked up a dozen or more odd rumors here and there. Someone had said there were lizardmen out in the wetlands east of the Keep, and another supposedly had proof of magic armor in a cave—which was of course distant enough that its exact location was hidden. Others spoke of an enchanted mountain cat living deep in the woods and of a frail-looking hermit who turned men into logs. Two different girls told her about a maiden held by men who’d killed her family, leaving no one to ransom her, but Eddis had heard a similar tale back in her own village. There seemed to be endless speculation about the bandits, outrage over the merchant’s wife, and plenty of new tales about the attack on Jerdren’s party this morning. She’d heard that three of the bandits had since been seen here in the Keep, disguised as peddlers, and that a small invading party had tried to scale the western wall of the inner bailey and would have succeeded except for the racket they’d made falling into the terraced garden beds.

There’d been a long hour then, while the guard captain listened to her story about the battle on the road and got her to identify the two dead men. The third had vanished, only a thin trail of blood to show which way he’d gone. Fortunately, they’d already talked to her clients and seemed willing to accept what she said as truth.

The aroma of fresh loaves brought her back to the moment, and now she could see M’Whan threading his way between tables, coming her direction. Off to her right, the taverner’s wife was stoking a fire in the massive fireplace and two servants were moving around lighting candles and lanterns. Three half-grown boys came from the direction of the outside kitchens bearing steaming pots of stew. Serving girls followed with covered baskets of bread, and behind his long counter, the taverner turned up his lanterns and began setting out fresh cups and pitchers. Eddis drew a deep breath, sighed happily, and followed M’Whan across the room.

They’d shoved two small tables together in front of a corner bench built into the southeast wall. Blorys watched as Jerdren spread out a map, securing corners with filled wine cups and two fat candles. Light from these fluttered and cast odd shadows as Eddis took a stool. M’Baddah settled down next to her and passed her a cup.

If Jerdren had been excited earlier in the day, he was almost vibrating with energy now. But he merely glanced up and smiled a welcome before returning to his map. It was upside down from her viewpoint, but Eddis recognized the Keep and lands to the east, north, and south of it. The map properly flattened out, Jerdren jumped to his feet and began pouring a dark red wine into cups and handing them around.

“To our new company,” he announced, “to Fortune’s Five—and to fame, wealth, and glory!”

Eddis eyed Blorys sidelong. He cast up his eyes. “It’s all he’s told me since he got here.”

“Said I’d wait until everyone was here, didn’t I?” Jerdren demanded. He was grinning broadly. “Ask the lady—we’re equals in this. Anyway, I went off to the barracks to find Mebros, but he’s normally on the inner gatehouse, they told me. None of us would normally be let inside those gates, of course, but I thought, why not see if he’ll come out? One of the guards sent word in for me, and while I waited, he and I talked—he’d heard about our ambush this morning, and he told me a tally sheet went up in the mess hall late today. Said it asked for volunteers—trackers and hunters, men who know the woods east of the Keep.

“Mebros wasn’t to be found, but another guardsman came out with word that some parchment pusher wanted to talk to me if I was the Jerdren who came in this morning with hide merchant Lhodis.”

Jerdren’s eyebrows went up. “You wouldn’t believe the size of that end of the Keep. Stone training grounds for two full companies to drill at the same time—not that there’s so many men, these days. Terraced crop beds on all sides, up against the walls so’s a company can still drill there, and they can eat once they’re through drilling. Seems to me there’s a clever man in charge here. Practical.

“Left alone, I’d’ve got lost at once inside the north towers, but my guide led me up a flight of stairs and inside a plain stone chamber, talking to a tall, pale fellow named Hollis. ‘Undersecretary to Castellan Ferec,’ he said. He knew about our set-to out on the road and said Ferec wanted to thank us himself. There’s a banquet tomorrow night, Blor, and we’re invited—us and our men.”

“Hmmm. That might mean the castellan wants to look us over, Brother. Talk to us, see if we might be useful to him. They say it’s how he does things.”

“Could be. Thing is,” Jerdren leaned forward to plant his elbows on the map, “I ran across Odis—that’s one of the men I hired for this journey, Eddis—on my way to the barracks, early on. He and his mates already have a return job, and they’re heading out tomorrow. Wanted to know if I’d give ’em good recommendation to this ore merchant who’s eager to get back north with his pouch of gold. Well, I did that, and I also told Odis about this raid. He just laughed! Said the main reason they signed on with us was hopes of a chance like the ore merchant. ‘Why give over an easy job with a filled purse at the end,’ he said, ‘in exchange for real danger and crawling through the woods?’

“Anyway, when this Hollis said we were all invited, I thought, say those bandits had set their ambush late, rather than early, then Eddis would’ve taken ’em out just like we did, right Eddis? And we’re equals in this, right?”

Eddis stared at him. “Jerdren, tell me you didn’t try to wangle us an invitation to a formal banquet!”

He smiled cheerfully. “I didn’t just try—I got it! All five of us, tomorrow at second bell after sunset.”

Eddis broke the silence. “Jerdren, I can’t eat at a lord’s table. I’m village!”

“So?” he asked. “We’re village, and we left that for the army. But this castellan’s no lord! He was a soldier left in charge here when the old lord went north with most of his army. When none of ’em came back, he stayed on to keep things together, that’s all. Man like that won’t care how you eat your soup. Besides, you wanted to know how much truth there is to Meb’s rumor, and who’d answer that better for you than the man in charge?”

Eddis shook her head in disbelief. Behind her, the room was filling up, and the babble of voices was growing louder by the moment. M’Baddah said something quietly to M’Whan, who went off through the crowd and came back some moments later followed by one of the taverner’s daughters—a dark-haired, slender lass in bright blue, who smiled at everyone and joshed with most, expertly balancing a tray piled high with bowls of stew and chunks of bread.

Eddis sniffed the fragrant steam cautiously. Stew with no onion—they remembered. She tore her bread into thick strips and dipped it into the rich broth.

“Eddis? You can do this, right?” Jerdren looked rather anxious.

She chewed bread, swallowed. Finally shrugged.

“The banquet, you mean? I can—” She fell forward as someone slammed into her left shoulder.

A long-fingered hand dragged her back upright, and a reedy voice mumbled apologetically. Eddis was turning toward the voice when her belt shifted. My purse! She spun around the other way and snatched at the dark-haired, skinny fellow backing away from her. He evaded the grasp but went sprawling as M’Baddah stuck out a leg. Eddis was off her stool and had him by two handfuls of roughspun shirt before he could scramble up. He twisted in her grip but subsided when she transferred one hand to his hair.

“All right,” she snapped, “where is it?”

“Where’s what?” The face was a boy’s, despite a thin smear of moustache on his upper lip and a skinny tad of beard. His eyes were very wide.

“The purse you just cut from my belt,” Eddis hissed.

“Purse? Cut? I lost my balance, woman, and fell into you. I said I was sorry, didn’t I?”

“Fine,” she said. “Apology accepted, once you hand over that purse!” He twisted suddenly, freed himself from her grasp, and dove under the nearest trestle. Merchants and their women scattered. Eddis swore under her breath and went after him.

She flailed out and caught hold of a boot. The boy yelled as she edged forward, ready to wrap her arms around his leg, but he kicked hard, hitting her shoulder, and the boot came off in her hand. It was thin and old and smelled awful. Eddis tossed it aside and dragged herself grimly into the open and partway up.

The boy was two trestles away now, dodging through startled patrons, forcing his way past serving girls toward the door. A tray of bread went flying. Eddis scrambled onto the nearest trestle, jumped from it to the next one, scattering people and cups in all directions. Another jump. The thief was about to dive under one last trestle and gain the way out when she threw herself at him, slamming him to the floor.

He was yelling now, crying out for help as she wrapped one hand in his hair and yanked.

“Where is it?” She had to yell just to be heard. “I won’t ask again, boy!”

The room went quiet around them, all at once, and the boy’s eyes moved rapidly, taking in his surroundings. Suddenly he yelled, “You’re hurting me, owwww! Let go!” Startled, Eddis nearly loosed her grip, but M’Baddah had come up and caught his arm. “What’re you doing, woman, are you mad? I was just—I was just trying to get past your table, minding my own business and you—owwww! My hair, you’ll pulling it out!”

“Not like I will if you don’t give me back my purse,” Eddis snarled. She was aware of staring patrons all around them.

M’Whan pushed his way through the crowd. “Eddis, I can see two guardsmen coming this way!”

“Good,” she said.

“Yeah, good!” the youth said virtuously. “And when they search me and don’t find anything, you’ll be sorry you hurt me!”

“I found it,” Blorys said as he and Jerdren came up. “I saw him toss something under our table when M’Baddah tripped him.” He held up a small, thin-bladed knife and a plain leather pouch.

“That’s a lie,” the youth said. “You can’t prove those things are mine.”

“You’re right. That purse isn’t yours,” Eddis glanced at the two solid men in guard’s colors who stood quietly next to her and the youth.

At a gesture from one, M’Baddah released his hold and stepped back.

“Sir,” she told the guard, her eyes still on the boy, “the purse is mine. I can tell you exactly what’s in it, to the last coin. Also, there’s a red fletch I saved from an arrow—the one I used to kill my first deer.” She waited while one of the guards took the bag, fingered its cut strings and poured the contents into one hand. His companion took the knife, peered at it closely. Eddis kept her two-handed grip on the thief. His muscles were taut, ready to spring if she relaxed her attention.

A low buzz of conversation broke out around them once more. People were standing and staring. The guard slowly pushed the coins around on his hand, then fished out a small strip of red feathers—frayed and faded from so many years in the pouch. He snugged down what was left of the cut strings then handed it to Eddis, who freed a hand to stuff the little bundle down the front of her shirt. She stepped aside as the soldiers took charge.

“What’s this about, boy?” the guard asked, mildly enough.

The youth shook his head. “How should I know? I was just going to get a fresh mug of ale, and she jumped me for no reason. Maybe you should search her, see if she’s got anything of mine.” He patted a cloth bag hanging from his belt and suddenly looked worried. “Maybe you should just hold onto her while I make sure my coins aren’t missing. I had four silver pence when I came in, and I’m not feeling anything there!”

“Oh, is that so, Kadymus?” The taverner came out of the crowd. “Seems to me a lot of us have wondered how a mere ’prentice always has coin for beer and ale—and how it seems folk find themselves short at times you’ve been about.” He looked at the larger of the two guards. “Sergeant Evoe,” he said formally, “this lady here’s named Eddis. She guards caravans, comes to the Keep often, and always visits my tavern. I’ve never had a spot of trouble from her. And that little knife belongs to Kadymus, I’ve seen him use it.”

Kadymus glared at the taverner, but before he could say anything, Evoe grabbed his near arm, the second guard grabbed the other, and they hustled the skinny cutpurse away. The taverner watched them go, and as the crowd began to break up, he took Eddis’ hand in both his.

“My thanks for catching him. I’ve had my suspicions for a time, but I’m a busy man, and he’s that quick.” .

“I noticed,” Eddis said dryly. “More fool I for wearing my purse openly on my belt like that.”

“This is a lawful place,” the taverner replied sternly. “None of my customers should have to worry for where a purse hangs in here. Your meal and your drink’s on me tonight, Eddis,” he added, and strode off to his counter.

“Nice going,” Jerdren said admiringly. “I didn’t realize you were that fast!”

Eddis shook her head. “I was angry. Still, if I’d been wrong about him…”

“Well, you weren’t,” he replied, “so why worry about it?” He led the way back to their table.

It took time, and Eddis was red faced by the time she resumed her stool. It seemed everyone in the tavern wanted to grip her hand and thank her. Jerdren grinned as he settled over the map once more.

“Funny, though,” said Jerdren, “you starting the brawl, and here in the Keep of all places!”

Eddis cast up her eyes.

“Well, I laughed, didn’t I, Blor? But you didn’t answer me. You can deal with this dinner tomorrow night—right?”

She groaned as she resumed her seat. “If they don’t have me in the cell next to that nasty little thief for starting a brawl. Yeah, Jerdren. I can do this.”