Winter Be My Shield (52 page)

‘Perhaps,' Cam said. ‘It strikes me as odd that Valeria let him be put in such a position.'

Sierra stole a glance at Cam's face. His voice and expression were utterly devoid of emotion when he spoke his mother's name.

‘The clan elders were concerned about that, too,' Ardamon said. ‘People were wondering if keeping the Wolf men away from our lands was an idea cooked up between King Severian and Duke Osebian as an attempt to weaken the clan. If so it was carried out without the queen's knowledge.'

‘It's possible,' Cam conceded. ‘Valeria will be livid. Has there been any mention of breaking Mira's betrothal to Osebian?'

‘None,' Ardamon said. ‘The way things are going it will be their only hope of regaining any control over the clan. The only thing that's holding the other clans under the king's command is the knowledge that if they pulled out now the Akharians would sweep over the lot of them. Even if we do win this war the king will find himself weakened and the clans will finally have some power again. It's the best way to defend our people. We simply don't have the power to cast off Mesentreian rule.'

Not while Kell's at the king's side
, Sierra thought.

‘
If
we win?' Cam said. ‘That's a big if. If the Akharians can send six thousand soldiers into the Wolf Lands alone how many do they have to throw into the west?'

‘It's the Mesentreian harbours they're bent on burning,' Ardamon said. ‘Once they've got what they want from Vasant's relics I imagine they'll head west again. There's not enough loot to keep them here. Our goal should be to keep them from taking all their captives with them.'

‘You think they'll burn the towns and leave?' Cam said. ‘The Mesentreians will set the next boat-load of settlers to rebuilding them.
There will be new hulls laid within a year. What if the empire decides there's wealth enough in Ricalan to justify staying — and so ensuring the Mesentreians don't start raiding again? We would be exchanging one overlord for another and we'll be facing the new one when we've already been bled white.'

‘We'll deal with that when we come to it,' Ardamon muttered. ‘I'm sure the war-leader has a plan. Here, Hannomar's talking again. We'd best listen.'

Hannomar had broken off to discuss something with Dremman and now he cleared his throat to continue. ‘The Akharian forces would win if we met them in open battle. Their numbers and the presence of their mages leaves no doubt of that. Once the king sends aid it will be a different matter, but that will take months —'

‘If we're lucky,' Cam muttered. ‘Winter is nearly over. We have maybe a month left before the Thaw. Once the rains start I wouldn't be surprised if it takes half a year.'

‘In the meantime we must fight them alone,' Hannomar said. ‘With such great numbers and the need to keep their slaves in check they will be an easy target. With small detachments we'll ambush and harry them along the route, striking quickly and retreating before they have time to launch a counter-attack. Scouts and foraging parties will be particular targets, as will slave-teams. By killing the Slavers and arming the freed captives with their weapons we will strengthen our numbers while weakening theirs.'

‘Then it will only be a matter of time before they start sending mages out with them,' Sierra said under her breath.

‘That's where you come in,' Ardamon whispered back.

‘The Slavers will no doubt respond by sending detachments of men after our warriors. If they are foolish enough to follow us too far they will meet up with the rest of our men, who will be following a small distance behind. While the Akharians are too great in number to be defeated, they cannot commit such a great number to the chase without leaving those who stay behind vulnerable to a slave uprising. In this way we will harass and weaken their forces until they have no choice but to take the prizes they have and quit the Wolf Lands.

‘In the short term, however, we can expect the Slavers to respond by choosing routes that provide little cover for ambush. This will slow
them down while offering them only a minor degree of protection. They cannot avoid wooded areas completely, given the amount of fuel required by so many men. And once the Thaw begins, they will have no choice in the matter.'

The broad, treeless routes of ice and packed snow that allowed the armies to move freely would cease to exist in a month or so. Once the seasons turned and the Thaw began, those frozen rivers would become raging torrents of water and ice. Then the rains would start and whatever open land that wasn't lost beneath the flooding waters would soon become a sticky quagmire of mud. Furs that kept one warm in the dry air of winter could be soaked in moments in a spring downpour. Frostbite and hypothermia were no less of a threat when the days grew longer.

‘Even if their informants have warned the Slavers what to expect, it is unlikely they will be prepared,' Hannomar said. ‘The search for good footing will force them into wooded areas ripe for ambush. What's more, as foreigners in their first Ricalani spring, they will suffer badly from the miasma and spring fevers. By the time the king's reinforcements get here the Slavers should be thoroughly demoralised and weak enough for us to wipe them out in one last battle. This matter should be well and truly settled by the first snowfall of next winter.'

 

Ardamon was obliged to stay a little longer at his father's side but Sierra and Cam headed back to Mira's tent.

‘There's been no mention of any role for me in all this,' Sierra said once they were alone. ‘There must be something I can do.'

‘It's hard to factor your powers into their tactics when they don't know what you can do,' Cam said. ‘It's also unwise to rely upon you when you'll have to hide away once Dremman makes contact with the king.'

Sierra sighed as they stopped at the doorway. ‘I suppose you're right,' she said. ‘But this plan of Dremman's … it won't free Isidro.'

‘No,' Cam said. ‘If he's with the civilian mages he won't be freed unless the whole legion is wiped out.'

‘But once these mages have found what they're searching for they aren't likely to wait around for us to drive them off, are they? They'll take their prizes back to Akhara and Isidro with them.'

Cam looked away over the field of conical tents stretched around them. ‘That's right.'

‘But he won't just accept that, will he?'

‘You think he'll try to escape? He's a cripple now, Sirri. Some things just aren't possible any more.' He turned and ducked into the warmth of the tent.

Inside they found Mira standing by the stove and peering into a pot simmering on the hob. ‘Oh,' she said. ‘There you are. Is the briefing finished?'

‘Just now,' Cam said. ‘I was surprised you weren't there.'

‘The war-leader had me taking a detailed account from the escaped slave, Elomar, to send back to Ruhavera. Rhia's still with him. It looks as if the poor fellow will lose half his fingers to frostbite.' She lifted a spoon from the pot, tasted it and winced. ‘Dremman's steward must have prepared this. That man's always had a heavy hand on the spice jar, but I'm too cursed hungry to care right now. Pass me those bowls, will you?'

 

It was well past the middle of the night before Rhia left her patient's side. The camp was still as she trudged her way back through the rows towards Mira's tent. When she saw another figure stalking towards her through the darkness, she immediately went tense and checked her stride. The years she had spent as a slave had made her wary of unfamiliar men, especially ones as tall as these Ricalani warriors, who all towered head and shoulders above her.

‘Rhia!' he hailed her softly and she relaxed a little when she recognised the voice.

‘Lord Ardamon,' she replied with a brief bow of her head.

‘What are you doing up at this hour?'

‘I was attending to the escaped prisoner, sir, and I've only just been released from duty.'

‘Oh, yes? Well, there's another one on short sleep tonight. I think half the camp has been up dancing attendance on my father in one way or another.' At the doorway of the tent he lifted the flap and waved her inside.

The interior was dark and markedly cold. It wasn't as cold as outside, but neither was it as warm as it should have been. There was a distinct, familiar smell in the air, the sour tang of vomit.

‘Faugh, what a stink! What's been going on here?' Ardamon said as he followed her in and let the flap fall.

‘If someone comes in late usually the others leave a lamp burning,' Rhia said. ‘Something is wrong.'

It was pitch black inside the tent. Without even a glow around the stove door to guide her, Rhia struck out for where she thought the stove should be, feeling her way with the sleeves of her coat over her hands to protect them. When she found it, the coals inside were blanketed with a thick layer of ash. By the time she stirred it into life again, Ardamon had found a lamp and Rhia lit it with a splint.

Once the flame steadied he lifted it up to cast a meagre light over the interior of the tent. ‘Mira's not here.'

Cam lay curled on the bare spruce, unconscious and with a pool of vomit beside him. Mira's furs were empty. So were Sierra's. Both the servants were huddled in their place near the door but neither of them had stirred and Rhia and Ardamon had made no effort to be quiet.

Rhia knelt by Cam's side. ‘Bring light,' Rhia said to Ardamon, digging her fingers into Cam's neck below the line of his jaw. His pulse was there, but slow, and his skin was clammy. There was a half-eaten bowl of stew beside him with a spoon in the congealing mess, as though he'd set it down for a moment but never picked it up again.

‘Is he alright?' Ardamon said.

‘He lives.' She left him for a moment to check Mira's women. Both of them were sleeping deeply with slow but steady pulses and were warm beneath their furs. She went back to Cam. ‘He is cold. Help me get him to his furs.' The trampled spruce made a warm and fresh-smelling floor for a tent, but the needles were sharp. No one would choose to lie on a spruce floor when there were blankets and bedding available.

Together, she and Ardamon lifted Cam onto his furs. The movement seemed to rouse him and he stirred with a slight moan and began to gag.

‘Fires Below, he's going to heave again,' Ardamon said as Rhia rolled Cam onto his side.

‘Bring me a bucket, bowl, something,' she told him. ‘Quickly!'

He brought her a basin from the kitchen kit and stood well back while she held Cam's head over it. He was partially awake and making an effort to support himself, but she had to hold him steady.

‘I'll wake one of the women to help you,' Ardamon said, turning towards the servants.

‘They will not wake. They have been drugged. Cam too. More light, please, Ardamon.'

He stared at her. ‘Drugged? Where's Mira? Where's Sierra?'

‘I don't know. Lamps, please, my lord. I need more light.'

He did as she asked while Rhia tested the kettle on the stove. It was lukewarm. She splashed some into a bowl, found a clean rag and wiped Cam's face.

‘Mira?' he said.

‘No, Cam, it is Rhia.'

‘Where … where's Sirri?'

‘I don't know, Cam. Can you tell me what happened?'

He didn't respond, even when she patted and pinched his cheek.

Rhia turned to the bowl that had been sitting beside him. She stirred the congealed mess around, sniffed it, and dipped a cautious finger in to taste it. Then to Ardamon's disgust she sniffed the vomit she'd collected in the basin as well.

‘Poppy,' she said. ‘They used spices to cover the taste. By all the demons in hell, Cam could have died if he had been lying on his back.'

‘Why did it make him sick and not the others?'

‘It takes some people that way. I'll give him a purge to make sure there's none left in his belly.'

‘We should raise the alarm. Someone must have seen something! Mira and Sierra couldn't have been stolen away from beneath the war-leader's nose.
Someone
has to know …' He trailed off.

‘I am sure someone does know,' Rhia said. She opened the lid of the chest that held her supplies and broke off, staring at what should have been a neat arrangement of baskets and parcels. It had all been disrupted, pulled apart and riffled through and then shoved back in disarray, the lid crammed down over the mess.

‘They have taken something,' Rhia said. ‘Why else would there be such a mess?' She would have to go through it carefully to find out what was missing but right now it was more important to make sure the dose Cam had been given wouldn't make him any sicker.

Ardamon frowned down at the mess. ‘I'm going to go and find out just what in the Black Sun's name has been going on here,' he said. ‘Do you need anything? I can find someone to assist you if you like.'

‘No. I will see to Cam myself.'

‘Alright. When he wakes, tell him I swear on the honour of my clan that I'm going to get to the bottom of this.'

 

Dremman's manservant showed Ardamon through to the war-leader's private quarters, a corner of the tent partitioned by a blanket strung up for a curtain. Dremman lounged in a folding chair honing his belt-knife with a small oilstone. ‘I thought I might be seeing you again, lad,' he said.

‘Mira's gone,' Ardamon said. ‘Sierra, too. Cam's been drugged.'

Dremman glanced up at him and then turned back to his knife. ‘That's quite a tale, lad. Who else have you told it to?'

‘You already know? Where's Mira? What in the Black Sun's name is going on here?'

‘Mira's gone back to Ruhavera. Spring is coming and it's time she began preparations for her marriage. She's been getting far too involved in matters here.'