A Dance of Cloaks (33 page)

F
or over a mile stretched the wagon train. Some were covered with dried hides and white tarps, while others were open and piled high with pumpkins, squash, and winter-corn. In one wagon was a whole troop of dancers, singing and laughing at the sight of Veldaren’s walls. Another two were full of hard men, their faces and hands scarred from the sellsword life. All around the wagons walked servants, cooks, high-born maidens and low-born camp followers. At the far end trailed a small herd of cattle and sheep, ready for the butcher. When the Kensgold started, they would have fresh blood and meat for their festival.

Ahead of it all rode Laurie Keenan.

“We’re bringing twice what we brought last year,” said Torgar riding next to him. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I know things more often than others,” Laurie said, his voice oddly soft and gentle. “Like how I know you should watch your tongue, Torgar, lest I cut it out and feed it to the ravens.”

The sellsword captain laughed at his employer. Laurie was a smart man, but he was often full of idle threats and ambiguous comments. His eyes were dark, his complexion more so. Riding next to the sellsword, he seemed skinny and weak. He wore his hair long and braided, in the popular fashion of Angelport where the caravan had originated, following the highway out from the Ramere and north through the Kingstrip.

“I don’t understand why we bother to return,” Torgar said, ignoring the warning to watch his tongue. “This must cost you a fortune every time we make this trip. Why not make Leon and Maynard come to you? It’s far safer in Angelport than Veldaren, anyway.”

“Because if all three of us left Veldaren, there might not be a city to return to,” Laurie said. His face was clean-shaven except for a thin strip of hair growing from the center of his chin that hung halfway down his neck. Laurie twirled it with his fingers as his caravan wound around a small hill on its way to the city’s western entrance. The southern gate was closer and would have saved them a good twenty minutes of traveling, but the king had forbidden merchants from entering there. That, and being among the poor was not one of Laurie’s favorite pastimes; the south was just crawling with the empty-pocketed cretins.

“A shame you can’t just hire that Thren guy to work for you,” Torgar said after glancing back at the caravan to make sure nothing looked amiss. “Imagine what a man like that might have done as your right hand man.”

“Trust me, I’ve tried,” said Laurie, sounding tired of the topic. “He’s a hard man to get a hold of. Most of my messengers wound up dead, at least the one’s offering him the position. I think he took it as an insult.”

Torgar laughed heartily.

“Only a fool would turn down working for you, milord. Food’s good, the women are fine and clean, and there’s always a steady stream of idiots to kill with a sword.”

“Speaking of idiots with swords,” Laurie said, pointing to the western entrance. The gates were open wide, but there was a lengthy line of peasants, merchants, and mercenaries winding out from it. A thick grouping of guards was the cause.

“Did they check our things last time we came?” asked Torgar.

“That was only two years ago. Have you taken so many blows to the head that you can’t remember even that far?”

Torgar kept his head shaved, and he rapped it with his knuckles and made a hollow knocking noise with his tongue.

“My ma scooped my brains out when I was four. Left just enough to swing a sword, ride a horse, and bed a woman.”

Laurie chuckled.

“I think the third one occupies the most of your meager intelligence,” he said. “Come. Let’s find out what the fuss is all about before we have a thousand people trampling each other to get through.”

Torgar led, and Laurie followed. They rode around the outer edge of the line, ignoring the few angry calls from lowborn merchants and farmers. When they reached the gate, the crowd swelled in a semicircle, making their progress difficult.

“Look for a spare guard,” Torgar said. “I’ll see if I can pull him aside. They’re bound to shit their drawers when they see our caravans coming.”

Laurie looked but saw none. Realizing the same thing, Torgar dismounted and started pushing his way through. When a man cursed him and moved to strike, Torgar grabbed the hilt of his longsword and drew it enough to reveal naked steel.

“I draw, it ain’t going back in without blood on it,” Torgar growled. The man, a haggard farmer with a cartload of pumpkins drawn by a donkey, paled and mumbled an apology. One of the guards, hearing the threat, pushed aside an angry woman and called out to them.

“Draw no blades, or you can sleep outside the walls tonight,” the guard shouted. Torgar stood to his full height so that the guard’s eyes only came up to his neck.

“Hope you brought friends,” Torgar said, but his grin was playful.

“Enough, Torgar,” said Laurie, following in his wake. He glanced about nervously, disliking such close quarters with the unwashed rabble. “Are you in charge of the gates here?”

“Just helping,” the guard said. “Listen, if you’re in a hurry, you’ll still have to wait just like everyone else.”

“I’m not like anyone else, and I will not wait like anyone else,” Laurie said. He turned and pointed at the massive caravan of horses, wagons, and carts in the distance, billowing dust to the sky. “Those are mine.”

“Damn, never can catch a break,” the guard said. “Which ones are yours?”

“All of them.”

The guard paled, and he seemed to look at Laurie with newly opened eyes. For a moment, he chewed his lip, and then the connection hit him.

“Lord Keenan?” he asked. “Oh shit on me, I’m sorry milord. I’ve a half-dozen merchants all pretending to own Dezrel, and I figured you just another…”

“That’s fine,” Laurie said, interrupting him. “What is your name, soldier?”

“Jess. Jess Brown, milord.”

“Well, Jess, before I bring my convoy through the gate, I’d like to know what is going on. I take it there is some sort of tax or toll?”

“There is,” Jess said, glancing once at Torgar. “Though you might not like it. King Vaelor, Ashhur bless his name, passed the laws not two days ago. There’s some fines involving mercenaries, which you’ll learn about soon enough. The short of it is taxes, though, on all goods and services traveling into the city.”

“On
all
goods?” said Laurie. He grabbed his long green cloak and wrapped it tighter around his shoulders, as if a bit of his heat had escaped him. “What nonsense. Tell me the taxes.”

Jess did. As he ran through a memorized list, Laurie’s face turned darker and darker. With each item of food, cloth, servant, or animal, he counted, checked against his own stores, and accumulated a total. By the time Jess was done, Laurie’s neck had turned a deep crimson.

“All this due just to enter?” Laurie asked, his quiet voice poorly hiding his anger.

“Forgive me, milord,” said Jess. “Gerand Crold has been most insistent about enforcement. He’s ordered any man caught turning a blind eye or accepting a bribe to be strung up from the wall by his thumbs and left to the ravens.”

“I can’t blame you for your orders, nor for enforcing them with such threats hanging over your head,” Laurie said. He took out a single silver coin and handed it to Torgar, who then passed it on to the soldier.

“Thank you, milord. You are most generous.”

“And thank you for your time,” Laurie said. With a quick nod to Torgar, the two pushed their way out of the crowd and back to their horses.

“The thieves must have gotten to the king,” Laurie said as he mounted his horse. “Either that or his advisor, Crold.”

“More likely the advisor,” Torgar said. “He’s been around awhile, if my meager memory serves me well. How many kings has he seen die? Probably views himself as one. Might not be the thieves involved, either, just greedy hearts knowing you was coming.”

As they rode back toward their caravan, Torgar raised an eyebrow at his master.

“So…how much did it all come to, anyway?”

“Twenty times the normal fare,” Laurie said with a sigh. “I know you’re not the best with big numbers, so let me keep it simple. I’d be paying an entire month’s worth of income just to walk through their bloody gate.”

“Huh,” Torgar said, guiding his horse around a giant rut in the road. “Almost makes you think twice about entering, eh?”

Laurie stopped his horse. Torgar slowed his own and then looped around, his hand on his sword.

“Something amiss?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Laurie said. “But what you said, it might make a bit of sense. Look there, at the two hills we just rode beside. Couldn’t we set up camp on their peaks?”

Torgar scratched the stubble on his jaw, thinking.

“Could put yours and Madelyn’s things on the big hill, surround the lower parts with the wagons so it’ll be easier to guard. Wouldn’t be too tough to put our men in the gaps. That smaller hill could be for your servants and soldiers, ring the lower parts with tents and then build fires at the top.”

“Could you guard it as well as you could our estate?” Laurie asked.

“As well?” Torgar asked. “Course not. Your mansion’s got spiked fences and more traps than even I know about. Out here we’ll have men and wagons. Wagons can be climbed, burned, and cut through. Men can be bought, confused, and killed. But if you’re asking if you think anything could happen out here, I say no. With as many men we’ll have ringing the camp, you’ll be safer than the king.”

“Come then,” Laurie said. “Let us tell my wife and son.”

They rode into the caravan, which had slowed considerably in speed. Apparently the drivers at the front, having seen Lord Keenan ride off to the gate, cut their pace to ensure they didn’t arrive before Laurie returned. The two weaved through the chaos until they reached the largest of the covered wagons, pulled by six gray oxen.

“I heard you left for the gate,” Madelyn Keenan said from her cushioned seat in the back. She wore what she considered an outfit designed for travel: a tightly fitting dress, high-cut with a long V across the front. The outfit exposed her slender legs, which she had stretched out from underneath the tarp in hopes of getting what little sun she could before winter arrived in fullest, along with its dim light and numerous clouds. She’d tied her brown hair into a ponytail so long that it wrapped twice about her waist before clipping into her silver-leafed belt.

Torgar had long ago learned that an errant whistle could cost him half his month’s pay, but still he felt tempted when he saw her.

“The king, may Karak curse his name, imposed a outrageously high tax on all goods entering the city,” Laurie said as he accepted his wife’s outstretched hand and kissed her fingers. “So it appears we must camp outside the walls.”

“Must we?” asked Madelyn. “You’ll deny us a roof over our heads all for a silly tax? Bribe the guards and get us through. I’ve heard quite enough of the serving girls bitching about the bumpy trip. I don’t want to imagine how they’ll whine about this.”

“Guards won’t take bribes,” Torgar said. “King’s riding them hard on this one. And if it is a roof you want, milady, we have more than enough tents for that. We’ll erect you a fine pavilion to call your own.”

Madelyn rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her husband. She’d never liked the smelly sellsword, especially the way he looked at her. When it came to dress, attitude, and words, she knew how to drive men wild, and in doing so, control them. When it came to Torgar, though, she never felt that control. Instead, she felt like he was the one ready to dominate her, status and repercussions be damned.

“What about Maynard and that fat Connington fellow?” she asked. “Will they bring their wealth out of the walls to join us here in the wild?”

“We’re within spitting distance of the walls,” Torgar said. “This ain’t the wild, woman.”

“Remember what I said about your tongue and the ravens?” asked Laurie. “Think on that for awhile, and leave me be with my wife. Oh, and find Taras. He’s probably getting friendly with the camp followers.”

“As you wish,” Torgar said with an over-exaggerated bow.

“Must you make him so involved in your decisions,” Madelyn complained after the sellsword was gone.

“His usefulness makes up for any of his vulgarities,” Laurie said. The wagon jostled and slowed, so Laurie pulled back a bit. He looked around as he did, then swore.

“Forgive me, I must go. The wagon leaders are unaware of our change of destination.”

Madelyn watched him ride around the wagon and out of sight. She tucked her legs underneath her knees, realizing she would see more of the fading sun than she’d prefer over the next couple days. The journey north from Angelport was far from pleasant, even with the cushions and company of her servant girls in the giant wagon. They were so excited by arriving at the city that she’d forced them away so she could have a moment of peace.

The lady gazed around at the multitude of gently sloping hills covered with grass that grew up to the thigh. Hopefully that thick a bed of grass would soften the rocks that seemed to lurk everywhere just below the soil. She and Laurie had made love once on the grass in their journey north, and her back had ached for days because of it. She’d rather be bedded on a plank of nails. At least that way the pain would be uniform across her body.

She felt unease growing in her stomach. Seeing the many hills, void of walls, lampposts, and guards, seemed to have awoken an old fear within her. It was one thing to trust her guards; it was another to lock her door and bar it with a thick plank of wood. Here she would have…what did Torgar call it? ‘A fine pavilion of her own.’ She couldn’t lock a pavilion. By the Abyss, they didn’t even have doors to shut, just thick flaps.

“They’ve been told,” Laurie said as he came back, startling her a little. “Something amiss?” he asked when he saw her jump.

“No, only thinking. Are you sure this is wise? With the thief guilds still trying so hard to survive, wouldn’t it be safer in our estate?”

Laurie settled his horse into a gentle trot that matched the wagon’s speed.

“Truth be told, I think we’ll need to be diligent no matter where we hold the Kensgold. But do you know what I see when I look at those hills? I see no rooftops for assassins to hang from. I see no shadows in which to hide. I see no crawlspaces, basements, hidden ways and forgotten doors. Whatever traps Thren and his pets have planned for me, I know damn well they weren’t made with wide open fields in mind.”