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.That and a stolen sword were my only assets.He tossed me a cloak.“Cover the sword,” he said succinctly.“You should stay here,” I told him.“I have instructions.”I'd forgotten.I got to my feet, swaying slightly.“What are they?”“You need food,” Sapphire said, ignoring my question.And I needed a drink.“I have some money.”“Prices are high.”“Wars do that.”We headed for the door.Once there I glanced back at the small oasis of yellow light.I hoped Jocasta would live, that Dubaku would look after her.But there was nothing that I could do to protect her.I would only risk bringing death here if I stayed.The two of us could not realistically attack the enemy again.No ruse would be adequate to that impossible task.If, as I was certain was the case, the rising had been put down, we would find no allies here.Let it run its course; let Lentro speak with the others of the last king's amulet and raise their righteous indignation.They would destroy him; Larner could, Hettar could.Let them take responsibility for that task.I was done here.Time to go.The street outside was empty, the paves damp from what must have been a light rain.There was the wall of another warehouse opposite, blocking our view.To right and left the street was deserted.The town was quiet.I turned to my left and we walked, footsteps loud in the eerie silence of dawn.The smell of smoke hung in the air.At a crossroad I looked around.There was a fire burning brightly in the north.That was bad.I imagined the fire spreading out of control, sweeping through the town to where Jocasta lay unable to move.“That way,” I pointed to the fire.It was the way I wanted to go in any case.I had a duty to perform and it took me and the danger I represented away from her.I could only hope she would be safe.That our armies would come and liberate the town, that Dubaku would get her out of here.I did not linger on the thought that she might die.If I had spent money on spells, if I had learned healing, if I had not been a drunk, if.there is no sadder or more bitter word in any language that I knew, that small word that expressed infinite volumes of regret for all of us.#The fire was quenched before we got to it and I felt a small amount of relief.One less threat to Jocasta's survival.I had been on the watch for something and it wasn't far.The inn sprawled on a crossroad, as big as a small villa.The door was shut and barred but I hammered on it relentlessly.I needed a drink.We could use horses.Down the street a door opened and was immediately closed when I glanced that way.I saw an old woman hurrying down the street fearfully, a bag in her hand.She opened the door to a small cottage and I saw the relief in her posture as she closed the door behind her.Home, she was thinking, safe.I imagined her sick feeling of relief and knew it was an illusion.No place was safe in a town in enemy hands.I hoped she would be left alone, her precious stock of food left for her use.I hammered on the door again.“Who is it?” The voice was full of false bravado, tainted by fear.“Sumto Merian Ichatha Cerulian, patron of the city.”The door opened and a short but broad man opened it, ushering us in.“Patron, what news do you have? What is happening?”I shook my head.“Get me a drink, we'll talk in a while.”He did as he was asked and I sucked it down.Damn, I had needed that.I felt less shaky, steadier, more in control.The taproom was dim and empty, though I could hear whispering and shuffling in the distance.His family hid while he hovered nervously, waiting to hear something he could tell them to reassure them.“Food,” Sapphire told him.“We will need horses, saddles and tack, supplies.”The short innkeeper nodded.“You have coin or scrip?” He wanted coin, hoped for scrip, would settle for our word no doubt.“Some,” I told him, and dumped my looted coin on the bar.“Bring whiskey, half a dozen bottles.”Sapphire was cold faced as he reached under his coat.“I have scrip.We will pay well in that and you can redeem it when this is over.”“When will it be over?” The man asked, lightly, trying not to let his bitterness show.“I have dray horses.You can have them.I could not deliver beer to those who cannot pay, even if the barbarians didn't steal it first.” He was of the same blood himself, but he spoke the language of the city well and counted himself one of us.We are the friends of traders everywhere and experience had taught him that was true.We protected traders and trade, kept peace in our territories so that traders could safely move their goods to far markets.He was a trader and our natural ally.I nodded, the dray horses would do.“No saddles, then?”“None that will fit.You'll have to ride bareback,” he made it sound unimportant, and he wasn't far wrong.I had done it in my youth and I could do it again.I had no doubt of Sapphire.I let the barkeep go and arrange things, walked around the bar and poured myself another brew.Idly kicking barrels as I walked the length of the bar.There were few and what remained were mostly empty.A bad time to be a brewer, I thought.“How much scrip do you have?”“Enough.”“In my Father's name?” It wasn't really a question.“Yes.”He did not elaborate and I left it.It didn't matter that I suspected he had enough to equip and maintain an army.There was no hope of doing that now, just the two of us in enemy territory.As I sipped my second beer I became a little less aware of the constant growling, whining and snuffling of the dogs.I was so used to the sounds that I barely noticed.#Sapphire had led the way to a small gate in the wall.There were two guards.We killed them fast.Sapphire took the keys and opened the gate.There were shouts from the wall above and running feet.A bell sounded but by then we were leading our horses through.Once outside we mounted and fled.A couple of crossbow bolts had followed.One had passed close by my head and went clean through the ear of my horse.I controlled its wild reaction and we rode on, galloping wildly down a track lined with trees, grape vines trampled in the fields to either side.We would be chased, but I didn't care.If they caught up to us they would die, bathed in hot oil, or by our blades.I was coldly angry and arrogant.We left the town behind us, and the war.It would progress as it progressed.Two men are not an army, but two men can sometimes do what an army cannot.I was determined to pull some gain for myself from this mess; seeing as I seemed incapable of commanding an army, unable to protect those I cared about, I would instead go and rescue someone I didn't care about, and the gods help anyone who tried to stop me.We took a track north and headed deeper into enemy territory.When the opportunity allowed I intended to turn somewhat west and close on the Eyrie, where Tahal Samant waited for the head of a king or some other ransom.Instead he was going to get me, a drunken patron, and Sapphire, my father's spy.#Heading north and west, sticking to the country tracks, we pushed hard that first day.When the big drays could run no more we walked them, frequently glancing back, aware that there might be pursuit.We saw none.I wanted news but those few people we did encounter either ran when they saw us or had none.There were no traders on the road.War kills trade, and barbarians who prey on traders kill or steal from them as well as discouraging others to move goods.When trade dries up economies falter, production slows and dies, communities rely on their own skills and make what they need [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]