The Invisible Chains - Part 2: Bonds of Fear (36 page)

from the Sisterhood,” Sobrathi said.

“Well, I’m supposed to be an Avadesquan, no?”

“Fierce warriors, dear, not rude blasphemers. And taciturn, most

taciturn.”

“Never mind that,” the queen replied, dismissing her friend’s

snide remark. “What is going on here? Are they giving money

away?”

By now they were reduced to riding at a slow walk. Emelasuntha

stretched out her neck. Further down the road she saw the Black

Shields.

“They’ve almost come to a standstill as well,” she said, somewhat

put at ease.

They neared a great market place. From a distance they could

see that in the middle an enormous tent was erected. Around it were

stalls with the most diverse goods. A lot of them sold warm food.

There seemed to be an inordinate proportion of stands that sold

mantles, booths, rucksacks and the like. The place was teeming with

people, and the noise had become deafening.

“Look,” Sobrathi shouted to make herself heard, “they’re

dismounting. Can you see what’s happening?”

The queen, being much taller than the baroness, nodded while

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straining to see what the Black Shields were doing.

“They’re entering that tent. Damn, if it weren’t for that crowd

here, we would have them.”

She turned around.

“You, take ten man and keep an eye on that tent. I want to know

the moment they come out of it again. And find out where they’ve

left their horses.”

Rullio slowed down as the road got more and more busy.

“Just my luck. I had completely forgotten that Troncton is the

assembly point for the Northern Trade Caravan. There’s probably one

going to depart tomorrow. Damn. There’ll be heavy traffic for miles

and miles... On the other hand, it means that I will have an open road

once I get through this seething mass. It also means,”
he thought with

great satisfaction,
“that I have overtaken Damydas. If the king was

correct.”

Since he could only advance at a dragging pace, he looked around

him. Rich merchants with dozens of servants and more than ten

wagons obstructed the road. They had to follow the same procedure

of enrollment as the lonesome trader who carried his wares on his

back. A lot of private persons as well wanted to join the caravan out

of safety considerations. Judging by their accents they came from the

four corners of the kingdom and beyond.

He saw a temple priest with seven acolytes, who tried to shield

their spiritual leader from the obtrusive profane masses. A young

father admonished his young children to stay close to their mother

while he went in search of food. Two Avadesquan female warriors

were looking out for someone, while their male retinue followed at a

respectful distance. A merchant looked nervously on as his servants

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tried to pull a cart with a damaged wheel, laden with goods, out of a

pothole in the road.

A few minutes later he came to a total standstill as the road was

completely blocked by too many people wanting to go in different

directions. He considered dismounting and looking for an inn, but

decided against it. They would all be filled to capacity. Consequently

the service would be bad, and it would take an interminable time

to get something to drink. Better to wait until he was a few miles

outside Troncton.

Emelasuntha had as good and as bad as she could made the

rounds of the tent. Always she had asked the same question. “Anything

yet?” Always the answer had been the same. The Black Shields had

entered the tent, but had not emerged again as yet.

It hadn’t taken long to find out what was the cause of all the

commotion. A Trade Caravan to the north was formed and would be

on its way tomorrow.

“At least we know where they are,” Sobrathi said.

The queen became chalk white.

“No, we don’t. How could I have been so stupid? How could I not

have seen this? I have let myself be hoodwinked as a mere dilettante.

Damn him to Murokthil, that swine.”

Sobrathi looked at her friend, not understanding.

“Oh, dear,” Emelasuntha said impatiently, “it is perfectly clear

what happened. They entered as Black Shields and came out as

merchants, servants and what else have you. One by one. That’s why

we didn’t get suspicious. Never was there a group of eight coming

out of the tent. In or out of uniform. We’ve been had. The man with a

thousand faces has dissolved into the mass of people.”

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Sobrathi had listened with mounting despair, but now she

seemed to reconsider.

“Not all is lost. He isn’t far. In fact he must be here somewhere. He

has joined the Northern Trade Caravan in disguise. It was probably

arranged through middle men. There’s but one thing for us to do. We

must—”

“Join as well. Sobrathi, dear, of course. It will take the Caravan

anything from ten days to two weeks to reach the Northern Marches.

We’ll have ample time to look out for him.”

“Exactly. We’re powerful Avadesquan warriors, probably from

the prestigious Terronama line. We can take an escort of twenty men

with us without raising suspicion.”

“We’ll need clothes... everything for a long voyage.”

“Send five of the Tribesmen to the Chapter House to fetch our

things and everything necessary for the men. We must book a place

in the Caravan,” the baroness proposed.

“You take care of that. I’ll instruct the men. I will also need a living

letter. Luckily, there are a few available.”

“A living letter? Why?”

“We must send word to Anaxantis. He almost fooled us, that

Bloody Baron. What if we don’t find him in time? Anaxantis must

know that bloodthirsty predator is coming for him.”

“Yes, you’re right. Be sure to tell him that Damydas must never

reach the Marches and why.”

“Of course.”

At that moment a man was making his way through the seething

mass towards them.

“My lady,” he gasped when he finally got to them.

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“Mistress. Call us mistress. We’re Avadesquan warriors, not

ladies.”

“Mistress. The group that was bound for the coast is veering

back.”

“What? But we know Damydas is already here.”

“No. They’re not coming here. As far as we can make out they’re

going to a point some five miles north of Troncton.”

Emelasuntha looked at Sobrathi.

“He’s keeping his men in the neighborhood. He’s sending them

as a vanguard before the Caravan. Damn, he’s good.”

“I would bet quite a fair amount that the eastbound group will be

veering back as well,” Sobrathi mused. “As a rear defense.”

Emelasuntha looked at her with raised eyebrows.

“My dear, once in a while you still manage to surprise me.”

Sobrathi smiled radiantly. Another man made his way to the two

women.

“My lady—”

“Mistress, please. Mistress,” the queen said, exasperated.

“Mistress, Rondalch has returned.”

“Yes, and? Why isn’t he here himself.”

“He is wounded, mistress. Very badly. He won’t make it through

the night.”

“What happened?”

“He was leading the group that followed the Black Shields that

apparently made for the Eastern provinces. At some point they lost

sight of them. They tried to narrow the distance between them and

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the Shields. They fell into an ambush. There was a spot where the

road goes through a small wood... It took no more than ten minutes.”

“What are you saying, man, speak up,” Emelasuntha barked.

“They’re dead. All of them. They thought Rondalch was too. He

waited till they had left and checked everybody for signs of life.

Nothing. It’s a miracle he could get hold of a horse and mount it,

seeing in what condition he is,” the man said in a sorrowful tone.

The women looked at each other.

“Very well,” the queen finally said. “First see to it that Rondalch

gets the best care this place has to offer. Spare no expense. Then send

word to the Chapter House to get the bodies. Let them assemble a

new group of forty men. They’re to follow us at a distance of ten

miles. And, in the name of all the Goddesses, let them be careful. We

suspect that a patrol of Black Shields will be following us as well.”

She concentrated, her head bowed to the ground.

“You,” she said, looking up to the first man, “you and your group

will travel between the Caravan and the Black Shield vanguard.” She

looked at the men and then at Sobrathi. “Let’s get going, people.

We’ve got much to do and little time to do it in. Tomorrow at the

crack of dawn the Caravan gets underway. We’ll grieve for our men

on the road.”

“I must send for Jerruth. He is young, but capable. His youth could

make him as good as invisible for the Black Shields. I’m not taking any

risks. I’m sending a back up letter.”

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As Rahendo came out of the tower he saw a boy, about his own

age come out of the building where the records were kept. The guy

was looking doubtfully at a parchment.

He walked over to him. After all, he lived with the two head pages

and that made him, well, sort of an assistant head page, he figured.

“Can I help you?” he inquired.

He looked at the boy as if he was sure that, notwithstanding his

offer, he was beyond any human succor.

“Rahendo of Eldorn,” he presented himself.

The young man looked up. Rahendo felt two lively, mischievously

mocking eyes check him out all over. They were set above a sharp

nose and a matching face that was crowned with an abundance of

unruly curls. Both boys were exactly of a height. Their mouths were

at the same level, and so were their eyes.

“Ryhunzo of Uberon. I want to see you without clothes on.”

“Yes.”

“I want to look at your private parts. From very close by.”

“Yes.”

“I will touch you. Them.”

“Yes.”

“All over.”

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287

“Yes.”

“I may be tempted to use my mouth. I’m not good with temptation.”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to see me naked?”

“Yes.”

“And look at my private parts?”

“Yes. From close by, please.”

“And touch me?”

“Yes.”

“All over?”

“Yes.”

“Use your mouth, perhaps?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Splendid, just splendid. Do you have a big dick?”

“Yes. Very big.”

“Even more splendid. I haven’t, but I know some nifty tricks I

can do with the one I have. We should make this happen as soon as

possible.”

“Yes. Not here though.”

“No. We would draw attention to ourselves.”

“Our very naked selves.”

“Yes. This document says I must report to a certain barrack. Do

you know where it is?”

Rahendo took the parchment, read it and looked at Ryhunzo

with eyes that spoke of impending doom and disaster, the end of all

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joy and merriment.

“This is no good,” he whispered ominously. “This barrack is a

nest of bullies.”

“We hate bullies.”

“Yes, we do. You must come with me, to my barrack. I have a big

room there. And a big bed. No bullies. Only Obie.”

“What’s an Obie?”

“I’ll explain later. He’s harmless. Leave him to me.”

“Splendid, just splendid.”

“You would have to sleep with me though.”

“I was counting on it.”

“I know. I sleep naked.”

“Even more splendid. Have I told you already that you are

gorgeous?”

“No, not yet.”

“You are gorgeous.”

“Yes. You are beautiful.”

“Splendid, just splendid.”

About seven miles north of Troncton stood a small inn, The Black

Swan, where Rullio had decided to make a brief stop for a quick drink.

It took him barely ten minutes, and right after finishing his weak

beer he went to the back of the barn where he had tied up his horse.