Fool's Errand (25 page)

G
ENERAL MURDOCK SIGHED
contentedly and dabbed his mouth with a white napkin. As a rule, he did not enjoy dining on horseflesh, but he'd been some days without a meal of fresh liver, and a military man always made do in a pinch. Besides, the animal whose soft parts currently graced his platter had no longer been needed because his rider had lately been punished to death, and why should some beast of the forest have the pleasure of an easy meal when he, General Murdock, desired one?

Belching softly, he took a nibble of stale bread, accidentally sprinkling the linen tablecloth before him with crumbs as he did so. Frowning slightly, he set the bread at the edge of his bloody platter and carefully brushed the crumbs to the ground. Only then did he begin to chew. While he chewed, he gazed absently at the slopes of the mountain that the princess and her companions had ascended. How pleased he was to be down here in the foothills instead of up there on the mountain! Though it was not warm down here, and though the spot he'd chosen to make camp was far from comfortable, it was infinitely warmer and more comfortable down here than it was up there, where a man's chances of survival ranged from slim to none. General Murdock would not have hesitated to follow the princess to the very top of the world if it had been necessary, of course, but it had not been necessary. He knew these mountains well from his early days as a simple slave hunter, and he knew that the path his quarry had taken up this particular peak was the only safe path down again.

The princess and her companions could trudge around up there suffering cold and discomfort all they liked; he would be waiting for them when they came down again.

If they came down again.

As if on cue, a soldier clutching a brass spyglass appeared some twenty paces away. He was the one who'd been assigned to visually track the progress of the princess and her companions, and though he was clearly bursting to report some news he believed to be of great moment, he said not a word.

To test him, General Murdock took another bite of bread, two more dainty bites of liver and a sip of fine claret before acknowledging his presence.

“Yes?” he finally said as he wiped a wayward dribble of liver juice off his weak chin.

The soldier opened his mouth slightly then clamped it shut again and took a hesitant step backward. General Murdock permitted himself a small smile. Clearly, the message he'd hoped to convey by lashing the man's comrade to death had been received: obey orders promptly and do so without questioning.

That, of course, included the standing order not to interrupt the General while he was enjoying his evening meal.

“Do not be frightened, son,” he said now, beckoning the young man forward. “You have something to say, and I would hear what it is.”

For an instant, the soldier didn't seem to want to draw closer. Then—as though abruptly realizing that to fail to do so would be tantamount to failing to promptly obey an order—he bounded forward and blurted, “There's been an avalanche upon the mountain, sir!”

“A Khan trap?” asked General Murdock, who was all too familiar with such things, having nearly perished in such a trap during a slave-hunting expedition many years ago.

“Difficult to say, sir,” replied the soldier.

“And what of the princess and her companions?”

“Also difficult to say, though I can report with certainty that more than one was swept off the mountain.”

“And the others?”

“Possibly escaped and sheltering undetected, possibly buried alive, possibly eaten.”

General Murdock's beady eyes gleamed. “Eaten?” he breathed, licking his lips.

The soldier recoiled imperceptibly at this reaction but recovered almost at once. “Just before the avalanche struck, it looked as though they were being chased by a mountain bear …”

“Ah.”

“It. it all happened very fast, sir,” said the soldier nervously.

“I understand,” murmured General Murdock, touching his steepled fingers to his thin lips.

The thought that the princess and her companions may be dead did not alarm him. Though such an outcome so early in the game had the potential to enrage the Regent to such a degree that he might well unleash his wrath upon his most favoured general, a military man did not jump to conclusions based on idle speculation. A military man gathered what facts he could and drew his conclusions accordingly.

And since it was impossible to gather facts about what had happened upon the high slope from down here in the foothills, he was going to have to send an expedition up the mountain for a closer look. Though a necessary decision, it was not a welcome one. He'd left Parthania with seven men; having lost one to punishment and having sent one back to the Regent to deliver his first report, he had only five left. If he sent two up the mountain—which he would have to do, since sending a man up there alone would be folly—and if they were both to perish, he would be down to just three soldiers until such time as the messenger returned from Parthania with the requested replacements.

Given the high attrition rate of his small troop thusfar, it was a risk.

Still, a military man took the risks, and so General Murdock fixed his eyes upon the soldier and said, “Take one of your comrades, and venture up to the place where these events occurred. If you find the frozen bodies of the princess and her companions, bring back some proof of your findings. If you find no sign of the princess and her companions, we will have to assume that they are dead and that their bodies lie buried beneath the snow. If one or more of them is
not
dead, watch them but do not allow yourselves to be seen unless the princess or the Gypsy is in mortal peril. The lives of the others do not concern me, but those two cannot be allowed to perish because my lord Regent believes they are the key to finding something he desires above all else.”

The soldier looked as though he very much wanted to ask what the “something” was, but wisely, he did not. Instead, he said, “So if the princess and the Gypsy are in danger, we are to do what we can to save them?”

“Yes.”

The soldier nodded once. “Very well, sir. And … when shall we begin our ascent?” he asked in a voice that told General Murdock that the boy already knew the answer—and dreaded it.

General Murdock permitted himself another small smile. “You will ascend at once, of course, that you might gather the facts before a sudden storm or another avalanche buries them forever,” he said, giving his long, twitching nose a dainty scratch. “I appreciate that you may have concerns about spending the night on the mountain unsheltered, but I have survived a night on such a mountain; it is always possible that you will, too. And if you do not—well, the price you will have paid for a chance to elevate yourself beyond your humble beginnings will have been a ‘steep' one, indeed.”

“Yes, sir,” said the soldier, smiling weakly at his general's play on words.

Feeling pleased with his own cleverness, with the orders he'd issued and with his bellyful of horse liver, General Murdock sighed with renewed contentment. He then ordered the soldier to send someone to take away his platter and bring the dessert cheeses he so enjoyed at the end of his evening meal.

The soldier nodded, but before he could hurry off to promptly do as he'd been ordered, General Murdock called him back.

“There is one other thing I would like you to do,” he said.

“Sir?”

“As you make your way toward the base of the mountain, undertake another search for any sign of this ‘Ivan' fellow to whom the princess called. If you find him, do what you must to extract information as to his purpose in following the princess. Then slit his throat and leave him where he lies, that some lucky beast of the forest might have the pleasure of an easy meal, too.”

TWENTY-FIVE

T
HE MAN IN MEANEST HOMESPUN
watched without much concern as the two soldiers stopped to tuck several small sticks of firewood into their packs before unenthusiastically continuing to trudge toward the mountain along a path that would lead them right past the tree in which he sat. He, too, had a spyglass; he, too, had seen the mountain bear and the avalanche and was wondering what fate had befallen the princess and her companions.

Unlike the approaching soldiers, however, the man had no intention of ascending the mountain to find out. The princess and her companions would come down or they wouldn't. And though the man was almost certain that his master in this matter would want him to find out
why
they hadn't come down if they didn't—and to intervene if the princess was in danger, that she might later play her part in his grand plans—”almost certain” wasn't the same thing as “absolutely certain,” and it was not the man's place to make judgment calls. It was his place to follow orders, and for now his orders were to follow whoever was following the princess and to ensure that this individual was unable to send reports back to Parthania.

Just south of the Gypsy camp, the body of a soldier lay rotting in the bushes—a testament to the diligence with which the man in homespun followed orders.

Turning his thoughts from the dead soldier and his never-to-be-delivered report, the man harkened back to the strange incident that had taken place earlier that day. Having decided that the tall tree in which he currently sat offered the perfect vantage point from which to watch both the General's camp and the princess and her companions, he'd climbed to the very top and was just settling in when a hawk alighted at the end of a branch above him. Peering down at the man as though incensed by his presence, the creature had ruffled its feathers and screeched loudly. Annoyed, the man had plucked a pine cone from the nearest branch and had been about to fling it at the bird when the princess had suddenly begun shouting to somebody called “Ivan.” Looking up at the mountain, the man had nearly jumped out of his skin when he'd seen that the princess was not only staring right at him
but was also smiling and waving!

The man's first wild thought was that she'd somehow spotted him hidden among the branches and had mistaken him for an acquaintance by the name of “Ivan.” Almost immediately realizing that he was too well hidden to have been spotted and that if the princess
had
spotted an acquaintance perched in a tree at the edge of nowhere, she'd
probably
act just a bit more surprised, he'd quickly looked around for whomever it was that she
had
spotted.

But he'd seen no one at all. The princess had eventually resumed climbing, the hawk had flown away, and since then the man had done nothing but watch and wait.

And listen.

Crunch
…
crunch
…
crunch
…

The soldiers were so close now that the man could hear the crunch of old pine needles beneath their boots and hear snatches of their conversation. They seemed to be arguing—something about their orders and Gypsy trinkets and the rights of New Men.

Interesting.

But not important to the man in meanest homespun.

What was important to him was that he follow his orders for the greater good of the realm. Tugging his cloak more tightly about his shoulders, he recalled what his master in this matter had told him—that there would come a day when poets would write verses praising his heroism and minstrels would sing of how he'd singlehandedly changed the course of Glyndorian history.

It was a very grand thing for one whom the midwife had wanted to drown at birth for being marked by the devil.

But that was not important, either.

What was important was that the man do the job he'd been sent to do—and that he do it without letting his conscience be troubled by who might get hurt along the way.

TWENTY-SIX

Eight-nine white beans left in the jar

P
ERSEPHONE BARELY HAD TIME
to register the fact that Azriel was hurtling through the crevasse toward her before she slammed onto the icy ledge she'd have noticed if she'd looked over her
right
shoulder while she'd been dangling in midair. Without thinking, she immediately drove her dagger—which she was
still
clutching—into the ice at her side and grabbed onto it with both hands. The next instant, the rope at her waist snapped taut. Though the lower half of her body was jerked off the ledge, by some miracle her dagger stayed anchored and her hold on it stayed true.