The Jackal of Nar (18 page)

He retrieved his own clothes from the floor and pulled them on. Dinadin would be awake by now. Hopefully he would be alone. Still barefoot, Richius went back out into the hall. The red door to Dinadin’s room was closed. Richius put his ear to it and listened. Dinadin’s familiar snores rumbled through the wood. Very carefully he pushed open the door and peered inside. There, tangled in the wrinkled sheets, was his friend, blessedly alone in the small bed. Richius tiptoed inside and shut the door behind him.

“Dinadin,” Richius said lightly. “Wake up.”

Dinadin grumbled and rolled over, turning his back to Richius.

“Dinadin,” Richius repeated, a bit more sharply.

“What?” his friend moaned.

Richius sat down on the bed and shook the bigger man’s shoulder. “Come on, get up. I need to talk to you.”

Dinadin reached up a hand and pushed Richius away. “Lord, Richius. Let me sleep. I’m tired!”

Richius slid back onto the bed. “Sleep later. I need to talk to you.”

“How early is it?”

“I don’t know,” said Richius. He glanced at the dirty window and noticed the feeble rays of sunlight struggling through. “Dawn?”

“Dawn? Too early. Get out.”

“No,” insisted Richius. “Wake up. I want to tell you something.” He took Dinadin’s shoulder again and tried to roll him over.

“What is it?” Dinadin grumbled. “Tell me fast so I can get back to sleep. I want to rest before we have to leave.”

Richius smiled weakly. “Don’t worry about leaving. We’re not going just yet.”

This snagged Dinadin’s attention. “We’re not? Why?”

Richius could hardly answer. “I … I’ve met someone.”

“Oh, Lord!” crowed Dinadin. “And Lucyler thought it would be me!” He sat up, gesturing for Richius to go on. “Tell me everything. Did you spend all your money in one place?”

“Dinadin …”

“You know, we talk to you young soldiers about this but you never listen. I just wonder what your father’s going to say.”

“Dinadin, stop. Really, I’m serious.”

“Oh, serious,” said Dinadin. “All right, tell me. Who is she? Not that pig Carlina, I hope. Did she crawl into your room after she did me?”

“No,” said Richius sharply. “No, it wasn’t anyone like that. This one is beautiful. She is …” He stopped himself then, remembering suddenly how Dinadin had noticed the girl. “She’s Triin,” he said carefully.

Dinadin stared at him. “Triin? The one we saw last night?”

Richius nodded dully.

“The one I wanted?” Dinadin thundered. “How could you?”

“I don’t know why,” Richius fumbled. “I saw her and I was
kind of drunk and, well, then I was asking the innkeeper for her. I’m sorry, Dinadin. I know I was wrong. But you were right about her. She was incredible.”

“Tell me about it,” said Dinadin sourly. He pointed his chin toward Richius’ scratched face. “And wild, too, huh?”

Richius touched his cheek. The bleeding had stopped. “This? No, this isn’t from last night. She did this to me before she left.”

“Yes, I can see she really fell for you.” Dinadin looked away. “Richius,” he said rigidly. “I’m angry.”

“I know you are. And I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Lust came over you,” said Dinadin. “The same thing you chided me about. So fine, you proved you’re just a regular fellow. But now that she’s used to Naren men I want a try at her. Then we’ll be even. Agreed?”

Richius sat back. “Dinadin, you don’t understand. This girl … she’s something special. I don’t want …”

He stopped. Dinadin was staring at him in utter disbelief.

“All right,” said Richius easily. “Let me explain. It’s not you, Dinadin. It’s just that I don’t want anything to happen to her. She’d never been with a man before. I was the first.”

“But you won’t be the last. She might as well get used to it.”

“No,” cried Richius, getting up from the bed. “I don’t want her to get used to it. Don’t you see what I’m saying?”

“What are you telling me?” Dinadin fired back. “That you’re in love with this girl after just a night? Come on, Richius, use your head. Do you have any idea how many men come here and think they’ve found the perfect woman?” He tossed his legs over the side of the bed and stared down his comrade. “Listen to me. You’re not thinking clearly. And maybe I’m to blame for some of that. Just forget about what I said to you last night. I didn’t mean it. I know you’re doing the best you can. So we’ll go back to Dring, I’ll stop arguing with you, and you’ll see how fast you forget this whore.”

“She’s no whore,” said Richius. “And we’re not going back to the valley, not yet. I want to see her again. Tonight.”

“Richius, the others are waiting for us. Lucyler will be worried.”

“I told him five days. If we leave in the morning maybe we can still make it back in time.”

“Just so you can bed this girl again? Lord, Richius, I wish you could hear yourself. What’s wrong with you? We have to get back.”

Richius sat back down on the bed next to Dinadin and gazed down at the floor. “I don’t know if I can explain this, but I have to see her again. She knows who I am. Remember when we chased Gayle out of that village? She was there. I found her in one of the houses. Gayle was trying to rape her and I pulled him off her.”

“And that’s why she hit you?”

“I don’t really know why she hit me. But she called me Kalak. You had to see her, the rage in her eyes. She hates me, Dinadin. And I don’t want her to.”

“She’s from the valley, Richius. They all hate us.”

“But they shouldn’t,” said Richius. “She should know the truth.”

Dinadin’s face crinkled. “You know what it sounds like to me?”

“What?”

“It sounds like you want to rescue her.”

Richius made a face, but Dinadin held up his hands. “No, really. I know what you’re thinking. You’re wondering how you can take care of her. But you can’t, Richius. She’s here because she’s trying to survive, and unless you’re going to rebuild all of Lucel-Lor for her, there’s nothing you can do. She’s doomed.”

“Please, don’t say that.”

“It’s true. You were right about what you told me last night. We’re just adding to these people’s misery. The faster Nar gets out of Lucel-Lor, the faster the Triin can start building a new country for themselves.”

“Even if it’s under Tharn?”

“Yes, even then. You and Lucyler don’t think I’m smart about these things, but I see clearly enough. And I know that you’re being foolish over nothing. This girl hates you for a reason. To her you’re just Kalak. You’re the Jackal who kills people in her valley. Don’t think for a second that you’re going to change that, because it won’t work.”

“I have to try,” Richius sighed. “I have to see her again. And I need a favor from you.”

“What?”

“I want to do something special for her tonight to make up for what I did to her.”

“And you need money, right?”

“Yes,” admitted Richius sheepishly. “Do you have any? All I have is a few coins. But you, well …”

“I still have the dagger,” said Dinadin. “Carlina wasn’t worth a tenth of it, so I gave the innkeeper a silver instead. You can have the dagger if you want it.”

Richius beamed at his comrade. “Thanks. I’ll give you back whatever I don’t spend, I promise. I’ll make a good bargain with the innkeeper.”

“Don’t expect there to be much left over,” said Dinadin. “We’ll need these rooms another night, and once the innkeeper knows you’re soft on the Triin girl he’ll hike up her price.”

“I’ll do my best,” said Richius. “If there’s anything left it’s yours.”

“Actually it’s all mine,” said Dinadin. He got out of bed, yawned like a lion, and went to the window. “It’s bright out. It must be past dawn by now. The innkeeper …” His voice trailed off and he pressed his nose up against the murky glass. Richius watched him curiously.

“What is it, Dinadin?”

“Richius, come here.”

Dinadin stepped aside and let Richius have the window. The panes were caked with years of filth but Richius could see the barren horizon that stretched to the east of the city. And there, off in the distance near the Sheaze, was a huge mass of men and horses. There were tents and giant pavilions, smoke from cooking fires and the distinct sight of a tattered blue banner flying high above the assembly. Richius blinked and looked again. There was a crest embroidered into the banner, the streaking symbol of a yellow dragon.

Richius stepped away from the window. Dinadin was staring at him in amazement.

“Richius,” said Dinadin softly. “Do you know whose flag that is?”

Richius said nothing. Of all the flags he thought he might see when he came to Ackle-Nye, it had never occurred to him that this one might be flying here. It was the flag of Aramoor’s duke of war. It was Edgard’s flag.

• • •

With the morning light breaking through the hazy sky, Richius and Dinadin trotted their horses through the camp of the Dragon Flag. They moved slowly through the host of men and animals and, just as Richius didn’t recognize the young horsemen under the charge of the duke, so too did they not realize that their prince rode among them. Busy with the work of setting up camp, few of the soldiers turned to look at the strangers, and those who did glanced at them without interest before returning their vacuous eyes to their work. Despite their numbers, the men made little sound, and it seemed to Richius that they rode through an encampment of ghosts. Only the uniforms of black and gold lent the horde any resemblance to Aramoor Guardsmen, and even these were tattered and grimy. The garments, now too big to fit their malnourished bodies, gave them the look of children playing in their father’s wardrobe.

Battered tents and pavilions were strewn throughout the camp, each marked and weathered by the harsh climate of Tatterak. The air was stale, acrid with the filth of men and animals and ripe with the scent of distant Ackle-Nye.

“Lord,” exclaimed Richius. “What the hell happened?”

Dinadin said nothing, but Richius could see from his expression that his companion shared his shock. Whatever misfortunes Edgard’s men had met in Tatterak had left them ragged and defeated, no longer proud enough to even care for themselves. Their beards were overgrown, their uniforms threadbare and filthy, their cheeks pale and sunken. Of all these things, it was the sight of so many bony faces that distressed Richius the most. Even his own men in the valley had not fared so badly. When their supplies had dwindled to nothing and Aramoor’s caravans had ceased coming to their aid, they had the lushness of Dring with which to fill their stomachs. But Tatterak had no such bounty for its people. Unlike the valley of his adversary Voris, the warlord Kronin’s land was a rocky, unforgiving place, and the Triin who lived there had to be hardy and frugal to survive. Without the aid of the Empire, Richius knew, none of the troops could last. Richius frowned. Clearly, they hadn’t lasted.

“This is absurd,” he said angrily. “We ride in here and nobody even challenges us or asks who we are. Are these Guardsmen or not?”

He grunted in disgust, then noticed a single man walking past
them. The soldier walked as if in a fog, his shoulders slumped with weariness. He shuffled past Richius and Dinadin without a glance, his expression apathetic, his gait so slow that he seemed on his way to nowhere. He was just as unkempt as the others, and Richius would not have noticed him at all if not for the golden tassels of a captain that he bore on his right sleeve.

“You there,” cried Richius, bringing his horse to a stop. “You’re a captain in this army?”

The man looked up quickly, startled by Richius’ tone.

“What’s that?” he asked, blinking, and Richius saw the yellowness of hunger staining his eyes.

“Who are you, soldier?” asked Richius.

The man reared back belatedly. “I should ask you that, stranger. No one from the city is allowed in this camp. You’ll have to leave at once.” He began walking around Richius’ horse and added quietly, “We don’t have the gold for whatever you’re trading.”

Richius realized suddenly that the casual garb he and Dinadin wore gave no hint of who they were, or even that they were soldiers at all. With their leathers and their horses smeared with grime, he supposed they could have easily been mistaken for traders from the Empire.

“Captain,” Richius shouted after the man, turning his horse to follow alongside him. “We’re not merchants. I’m Richius Vantran.”

The man stopped and looked up again at Richius, his jaw falling open. Richius reached into his pocket and fished out his ring, the ring bearing the crest of the House of Vantran. Only those of the royal blood of Aramoor possessed the bands of gold and onyx, and Richius had always found the ring a useful tool in places like this that made all men anonymous.

“Sir?” the man asked cautiously, taking careful study of the ring. After a moment he inclined his head and said, “Forgive me, my prince, I didn’t know you were here. There was no news of your arrival.”

“We only arrived in Ackle-Nye yesterday. We saw your encampment from the windows of our rooms in the city. You must have gotten here yourself last night, yes?”

“Late last night,” said the captain wearily. “Closer to the morning, really.”

“And you’re Edgard’s troops?”

“Yes, Prince Richius. The duke is here. Have you word from home, my lord?”

Richius smiled sadly at the hopefulness in the man’s voice. “I think I’m more in the dark about home than you are, Captain …?”

“Captain Conal, sir,” the soldier answered. “I’ve been Duke Edgard’s captain of cannons since old Sinius died.”

“Sinius was killed?” asked Richius, remembering the bald man who was always at Edgard’s side. “When was that?”

Captain Conal cocked his head and recollected for a moment, then said finally, “Two months now, maybe three. He was killed in the battle for the Dead Hills, near Falindar. A bad battle, that. Even the duke took a wound there. Nearly wiped out a third of us. That was the start of the worst of it. Didn’t you hear about it in Dring?”

Richius spared a look at Dinadin and, seeing his companion’s slight shake of his head, said, “We don’t hear much in the valley, Captain, but from the looks of things here, all the bad news we’ve heard is true. You arrived here last night, you say?”