(Luis)
It was, I decided, time to visit Nona and Austin, to gain a sense of how loyal the king's recently installed dukes were to him. Nona first, because its Duke was supposedly the more formidable.
Meanwhile, on my mental back burner, one aspect of Lemmi's report troubled me: Mazeppa had said he wasn't interested in a Swift Current alliance any longer. If true, why wasn't he?
As for things at Hasty—if anything came to Carlos's attention, he could com me. And if Paddy or Kabibi needed to let me know anything, they could get in touch with Carlos through Brother Ranjit, who today would be setting up a one-man courier business in Hasty, as cover.
I left the Brother House at the first gray of dawn, dressed as a working man but otherwise undisguised, carrying my habit in my bedroll. The sun wasn't up yet when I boarded the North Landing ferry. Me and a taverner with a wagon, team, and eight barrels of beer.
I kept a sour face to avoid conversation, and traveled with neither packhorse nor remount, the better to be ignored. With any luck, I figured to make it to Nona on the third day, if I slept under the sky, or the inns were spaced right.
They weren't and I didn't. By late afternoon, thunderheads were building, so I quit early, at a village called Rito Nogales, with a three-bed inn and a livery stable. The food was hotter than anything I'd ever eaten, with tiny green peppers that looked like a skinny bean, hot enough to scald your swallow pipe. The weather being threatening, all three beds were full, which was fine by me. After making sure my horse was properly tended, I slept in the hayloft over the stable. It didn't rain though.
It was the fourth day before I reached Nona Town. The ducal palace was a stone fortress built on a bluff above the river, to defend against attackers from downstream, not from buffalo tribesmen. In fact, Nona was as far from Many Geese as you could get and still be in Sota.
I stopped at a decent-looking inn at the edge of town, used the wash house and my razor, unrolled and straightened my uniform hat, changed into my habit, and left to visit the duke. Leaving my saber in my bedroll, and my bedroll in the lock-room. A Churchman carrying a saber almost had to be Higuchian, and I preferred that not be known.
The bodies I'd heard about, that supposedly had been drawn, quartered, and spiked to the town gate, weren't there anymore, if they ever had been. I passed the guards unquestioned. My collar marked me as Church, but they seemed not to recognize the order.
I didn't do as well at the palace, where I introduced myself to the door guards as Master Luis from the Holy See, and didn't specify my Order. I told them I needed to speak with Duke Francois Cheong. The guards had me wait on a small bench, while they sent an usher to his lordship.
I waited about an hour, which didn't surprise me. What did surprise me was my growing unease. The king had probably sent a letter to the dukes, warning them about me. Finally I told the sergeant that if his lordship didn't see me soon, I'd notify Norlins that the Duke of Nona had refused to receive a representative of the Holy See. So he rang for an usher again.
I began to think that wouldn't work either, but after about twenty minutes I was taken inside.
The duke's bearing, scowl and aura bespoke worse than harshness, arrogance, and toward me, hostility. The man was psychotic, and his bodyguards butchers. It seemed to me I'd made a mistake leaving my saber in my bedroll; he knew what I was and who I was. So I switched on my com, on send. If anything happened to me, Tahmm would know when and where; Uncle Arvind records everything that comes in. Everything.
Meanwhile I was polite enough to make you puke, and every question I asked, he deflected scornfully, giving neither reason nor alibi. Which was fine. I'd gotten important information: Duke Francois Cheong was an enemy and insane. I felt lucky to get out of there alive.
At the inn I changed back into civvies, saddled my mount, and left without taking time to eat, afraid the duke might change his mind and send a party after me. Saber at my side, I pushed my horse till I reached the small market town of Sanggau, still well inside the duchy. It was getting dark. I ate at the Sanggau inn, then rode west out of town and slept in the woods.
The day had given me more than information about Duke François. It had shown me something about me, the hero of Eisenbach, survivor of Kelgorath captivity. Today I'd been more scared than I'd thought possible. Not of death, but of evil. The word had a new reality for me.
Before I lay down to sleep, I called Tahmm and Carlos, and Freddy in Moleen. And Lemmi, who announced his coming marriage, arranged by his new father. According to Mazeppa, the girl was tall, strong, and good-looking, of a lineage with large families.
I gave them my read on Duke Francois. "The man scared me, literally," I said. "The king must have sent word to expect a snoopy Higuchian, so I suppose Duke Alfred's expecting me, too."
One thing's certain, I added to myself: At Austin I'll have my saber on my belt, instead of in my bedroll.
The sun was well up when I awoke; both my horse and myself had benefited from the extra rest. And yesterday didn't seem as bad now. Scared I had been, but I'd functioned well, made the right decisions. And now I realized something about Francois Cheong that I'd overlooked the day before: someone that crazy is likely to make serious mistakes.
And more: I'd been in real danger of being killed, but my muse had steered me through it despite my fear.
I took it easy on my horse all that day, and bought another at a Williamite Church I came to, appropriately enough at a village called Saint William. With a remount I couldn't pass for a poor traveler, but I had a lot to do, and needed to get on with it. Meanwhile I enjoyed a wash, supper with the priest, a featherbed, and bacon and eggs for breakfast. And rode away on the new horse, the other trailing on a lead.
The next morning I could see Austin Town ahead, and stopped at a farm a mile before I got there. Paid for a meal, then went to the horse trough, where I stripped to the waist, washed, brushed my hair, and dressed in my habit again. Then I took lunch with the farmer and his family, and rode on into town.
A palisade had been built around the town, which at the time had been a village. Now more of the town was outside the wall than in, but the ducal palace was in the old, walled part.
Unlike my reception in Nona, in Austin I waited only a few minutes, and Duke Alfred apologized even for that. But his aura didn't match his words. I took a different approach with him than with Francois: I identified myself as Higuchian, and told him I was inspecting the duchies in Sota for their preparedness, in case the kingdom was attacked. He informed me that Sota had the protection of God. I answered that God expected earthly authorities to do their part.
Then I asked to inspect the ducal force at arms.
"Master Luis," he said, apologetically again, "two of my three squads are away just now with Captain Bevins, on a routine round of the baronies. Because of last year's lawlessness, you know. The other squad is here on security duty."
His aura said "liar! liar!" but I didn't insist, nor say I'd be happy to inspect his men on duty. There was nothing to gain by cornering him. And though he might not be psychotic, he was dangerous.
"I can, however," Alfred told me, "introduce you to their sergeant major." Said it as if that would help. He turned to his page. "Tell Sergeant Major Banda we have a visitor who would like to meet him: Master Luis, of the Order of Saint Higuchi."
Neither his aura nor his face showed any hint of treachery.
The page hurried out, and Alfred had beer brought while we waited. Excellent beer. Chilled. No doubt in winter they cut ice on the river, and stored it in sawdust or such like, in an ice house, the beer with it. Meanwhile he faked cordiality, and I faked belief. He'd prefer to send me away intact and content, but ill-informed. I was agreeable to the first two, and as for ill-informed—if nothing else, I had a character read on him.
The sergeant was slow in arriving, and it wasn't something the duke had set up; his annoyance was genuine. "What's keeping him?" he asked. The page said some of the guard had the flux, and the sergeant had said he'd "be right along," so probably he had it. I hoped it wasn't something in the beer.
When the sergeant major arrived, he proved to be a burly, muscular-looking man of ordinary height. His aura marked him as an inborn warrior inclined to recklessness. His gaze was direct, and I expected his grip to be strong. Actually he kept it moderate—but there was something in his palm: a piece of paper folded small. If this meant what it might, the sergeant had more guts than a slaughterhouse. I moved my hand to my pocket, swapped the paper for a handkerchief, and blew my nose mightily.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," I said. "It's the season—something in the air. When it tickles, it's either clear my passages or have a sneezing fit."
I asked the sergeant a few questions, and he answered them. Yes, he liked his job. Yes, the troops were good, and their training stringent. Morale was high. No, they had no militia; it had been disbanded. No, he didn't think that weakened the duchy; the militia had never been very effective.
His aura told me he lied like a horse thief; they'd been forewarned. So I turned my attention back to Alfred. Did he think the Dkota would abide by the peace treaty? He was sure they would. If they didn't, how would he deal with possible raids? There'd be none. If they did attack, and the marches asked for help, would he send any? It could never happen; to contemplate it was to invite it. What did he think of the reduction; could he keep the peace with only three squads? It was not a problem.
He obviously wasn't going to tell me anything on purpose, and I really wanted to look at that piece of paper. So I offered him my hand. "It was good of your lordship to indulge me," I said. "I appreciate your time—and that of the sergeant major. Meanwhile Sota has numerous dukes, and my orders require that I visit all of them, so I'm afraid I must leave. Get this trip over, and back to Norlins."
Then I wished them a pleasant summer, and left. Eager for privacy, to see what I had in my pocket.
Back in the saddle and out of Old Town, I unfolded the paper. It was about three by three inches, with the name Wolf and Badger written on it, and a time: 7 OC—of the clock. The sergeant hadn't had a flux; he'd needed privacy to write his message. So I rode back to the farm, changed into my road clothes, and snoozed in the hayshed till supper. After eating, I rode back into town.
I figured The Wolf and Badger would be a tavern. Actually it was an inn on the Fairbow Road north of town. Not the sort of place guardsmen would likely choose for drinking. Obviously Banda's warrior muse was healthy, and he paid heed to it. I was right. I figured he'd be inside wearing civvies, to deflect attention. He looked up questioningly as I walked over to him, as if wondering who I was.
"Excuse me, friend," I said, "haven't we met somewhere down the line?"
He frowned, then brightened. "Yeah, I believe we have. Up north of Long Portage, back in our trapping days. We had a, um, discussion over the rights to a beaver flowage."
"That's it," I said. "We settled it by throwing axes at a tree, and you won. And I found a better flowage the next day."
He laughed. "That's an advantage to getting way back in the bush. The farther back you go, the more good stuff you find."
I grinned at him, and we took his pitcher of ale to a back corner. "That was a helluva risk you took today," I said.
He smirked. "I knew you wouldn't give me away. You're Higuchian. We'd been warned two, three weeks ago to expect you; you've got somebody worried in Hasty."
This guy not only had guts. He was even smarter than I'd realized. "So," I said, "what do you know that I need to hear about?"
"First, this duke is like the king. In fact they're cousins. He's half good guy, half butcher, and the good-guy half, being real, lowers your guard. Then the butcher guts you.
"He's not as smart as Eldred though. Eldred hired one of his wife's cousins to command his force-at-arms, but the cousin is Jaako Jarvi, a genuine fighting man who knows what he's doing. Alfred, when he took over the duchy, brought a boyhood friend, Adam Bevins, to command his guard. Captain Bevins, who doesn't know his ass from a cupboard mouse. When Jarvi put down the uprising here, all of Majesky's old force-at-arms—those who surrendered—were executed anyway. Eldred's orders. And Bevins replaced them with guys he'd had recruited for him in Hasty. Some of them, you tell them to stomp someone to death, they'll draw straws for the privilege. You can always find guys like that, but you can't always control them."
"Then how," I asked, "did you get on here?"
He laughed quietly. "Why ain't I surprised you asked?" He took a draw on his ale. "I was on the guard here before the uprising. Master sergeant, like now. But I crossed horns with Captain Ho over some dumb shit, and talked when I should have listened. Ho was mostly a good man, but there was only one way to do things, his way, and he wanted no discussion.
"So this time he told me, 'Sergeant, you bring that up one more time and I'm going to send your ass back to the farm.'
"So I told him that's it, I quit. And went off south to Iwa, where I've got a brother-in-law with a dray service on the docks in Riverton. Hard work but honest pay, and very little bullshit. A few months later I heard about the rebellion, and how Jarvi put it down. Brutal. But it was worse at Nona. On Eldred's orders, so I've heard. The story is, Jarvi had to get puking drunk to carry them out.
"So when spring arrived, I came back. One of the first things I saw was Ho's ugly head on a pike in the town square, along with about twenty others. They were the worse for wear—been out there since October—but they were labeled. And being a dumb shit sometimes, it occured to me to apply for a job. I told them I'd been a sergeant here before, but quit because I couldn't get along with Ho.
"To Bevins that was a recommendation, so he hired me back as sergeant. I didn't realize what I was getting into. The goddamn barracks was a zoo, and all Bevins could do was wring his hands. I've heard since that Alfred would have fired him—sent him back to Hasty—only he didn't know who to replace him with.
"But I'd signed on, so I guessed I ought to stick with it a while, see what happened next. Fellow named Kirpal was sergeant major, a good man doing his best, but too damned civilized. To run a zoo from the inside, you've got to be the number one he-wolf. He wasn't, and two weeks after I came on, the number one bully boy killed him. Kicked him to death."
Good lord, I thought, all in the name of mollification!
"So Bevins asked me to take the job. I told him I'd be glad to. Everyone in the guard knew who'd killed Kirpal; half of them saw him do it, but no one was telling. As soon as word got around that I was the new sergeant major, the guy stopped me in the corridor and warned me not to fool with him."
Banda shrugged. "He had me by about thirty pounds, four inches, and four, five friends, so I nodded. Said I understood. Then got me a table leg and waylaid him in the messhall. Clubbed him to death in front of most of the guard. Blood and brains came out his ears.
"Then I told the main three in his little gang they had one hour to bag their gear and get out—out of town in an hour, out of the duchy in twenty-four. And if I heard of them again, I'd see their heads on pikes."
He laughed. "It's the sort of thing they understand. What surprised me, and shouldn't have, was that just about everyone else seemed to think it was a good idea, including some I'd never have expected it of. They'd been walking around scared to say or do anything that would get those four down on them.
"So here I am, Alfred Wiesendorf's sergeant major, his number two man—and I'd love to see him brought down."
He paused, then went on. "And while I'm talking, lemme answer some of your questions that didn't get answered earlier: The force at arms here isn't too bad, but it's not what it ought to be. As for its size, Alfred made it out to be three squads. I don't know what that's all about, but it's five squads, up from four in the old days.
"And the only thing that would get Alfred to send us anywhere to help against raiders is if Eldred Youngblood ordered him to. Meanwhile the rumor is, if a rebellion starts somewhere, we're to ride against Kato, fast as we can. Because Kato's the duchy that counts. Without it, no rebellion has a chance."
I told Banda to expect to hear from me again, with a proposition. One I thought he'd like. I'd expected it to be the following spring, and commonly my muse has pretty good timing, but there's always the chance of alternate vectors, and the odds . . .