A Dragon's Ascension - Ed Greenwood [22]
"Aye, that's truth," another man said. "Barons have been snatching at power and making war on other barons since my grandsire's day, and probably before that, too. Nothing changes."
"And what of these precious overdukes?" Guruld Luroan snarled. "What good are they? Just more barons, I say!"
He spat on the rushes and banged his tankard down, but Old Adbert turned around in his chair so swiftly he almost toppled over. "Now you heed!" he barked angrily, startling men all over the dim taproom of the Glory. "I saw the Band of Four on the last wagon run I ever did, and took my measure of them-which is more than any of the rest of you've ever done!" He waved his tankard so wildly that ale slopped out and down it- and that shocked the others in the room more than any words could have done. Old Adbert, spilling a drop of ale?
"I heard about their big battle at Flowfoam with Silvertree's wizards, too," the one-legged man added. "Oh, you all did, I know, but I talked with men who were there, swords out and fearing to die, any moment-and let me tell you something: we should all thank the Three every night on our knees for the Band of Four. They're all that's holding back the barons, right now!"
"Well said!" a traveling peddler spoke up. "I, too, have seen and heard, up and down the Vale. They at least keep barons from swording or hanging everyone whose face they don't like, or lands and daughters they do like! If the Band of Four falls, who'll stop the barons?"
"Aye," Thaeker Blackcloak added gloomily, "and the Serpent-priests?"
The oldest man in the room, Saurn Belrastor, raised his own tankard and rapped on it to show the tavernmaster that it needed refilling. It was so rare for Saurn to do this that men's heads turned at the sound. Saurn looked at them all, and said sourly, "If the fate of Aglirta rests on the shoulders of four wandering adventurers, we are doomed indeed. Four to save us, against armies?"
"We are doomed indeed," Old Adbert agreed quietly, staring into the depths of his tankard. He didn't seem to fancy whatever he saw there.
"I'm taking my kin all the way around the Windfangs, into Dalondblas, brigands or no," Tarsam Faurolk told the taproom grimly, causing many jaws to drop. Leave four hills and all the sheep on them, and run away to-nothing?
As if in answer to their amazement, he added darkly, "There's nothing but death and doom riding Aglirta's roads, these days. Better coinless and alive than a wealthy corpse when war sears up and down the Vale again. All the barons are arming. Get out while you can, if you've any sense."
Old Adbert's laugh was a short, bitter bark. "Any sense? Lad, I'm Aglirtan-of course I've got no sense!"
Scattered chuckles agreed with Adbert, but none of them held much mirth. Even the tavernmaster, refilling more tankards than he'd been called on to do for many a month, found it hard to smile.
He couldn't stop seeing dead men lying in the upland fields, awaiting the wolves… There'd be time for smiling men.
Skulls grin easily.
Chapter Four
Riding to War
The guard at the bridge tilted his helm back against the heat of the bright morning sun, ran a disgusted hand through his sweat-soaked hair, and looked longingly at the shade of the old shieldwood tree. When these next few folk are past…yes, b'yr Lady! A little shade, a little cool water followed by a swalhwfirm my boot flask to take the foul taste of river mud away, and… yes…
Sammarthe's herb cart creaked by, and he gave the straining woman and her two daughters a nod and smile. The youngest child, skipping along barefoot with a spray of tansel in her hand, was the only one who smiled back.
Kuldin shrugged, and thought again of the waiting coolness yonder. Ah, to be out of this sun!
He