A Time of Omens - Katharine Kerr [26]
Budyc shrugged in nervous agreement.
“Very well, Captain. Name your price.”
“A silver piece a man on contract, then one a week, two if we see fighting, and you pay full wages for every man killed.”
Again the two looked back and forth, and again Budyc shrugged.
“Done. It’s fair, and there’s no time to haggle. Leave the city gates as soon as you can, Captain. I’ll meet you on the south-running road.”
“Where are we going?”
“I’ll tell you after we’re well clear of Dun Trebyc.” Budyc allowed himself a scant smile. “This town is full of ears.”
After a solemn handshake all round, the merchants left. Maddyn and Caradoc turned on Nevyn the moment the door swung shut.
“I can’t tell you one blasted thing.” Nevyn held up both hands flat in protest. “All I know is that they’re Cerrmor men going south, and that they’re both rich and reliable.”
“Well, that should be enough, truly.” Caradoc paused, thinking hard while he rubbed his chin with one hand. “Maddyn, make sure our young lad rides in the middle of the pack on the morrow, will you?”
“I will. I might detail Aethan and Branoic to keep an eye on him—personally, like. Give them a chance to redeem themselves.”
“Good idea. Carry it out.” The captain glanced Nevyn’s way. “I was thinking of putting him between me and Owaen, but that’d look too suspicious.”
“I agree. By the way, Captain, I heard all sorts of news down at the temple. I must say that the merchant guilds do themselves proud when it comes to hearing what there is to hear. The Cantrae king seems to be planning a major offensive on the eastern side of the border—round Buccbrael, the rumors say. He’s been stripping the west of men for some big march, anyway.”
“Splendid, if it’s true. Let’s pray it is.”
“Provided he doesn’t strike at Cerrmor before we get there. The extreme west has always been Cerrmor’s weakest point, and it’s doubtless worse now that the Wolf Clan’s had to surrender their lands and go into exile.”
“Uh, you know,” Caradoc said. “The border’s held a long time without the Wolves on it. They went into exile—oh, at least twenty years ago.”
“Has it been that long? When you get to be my age, it’s so easy to lose track of time.”
Just before noon, the silver daggers left Dun Trebyc under a sky striped with scattered clouds that had everyone groaning at the thought of more rain, but it held off till they met their hire. About two miles down the road Budyc was waiting on a splendid roan gelding. When Caradoc slowed the troop, Maddyn fell back beside Nevyn, and the merchant trotted over and took the place beside the captain.
“We’ll be continuing south till midafternoon,” Budyc said. “Then heading west for a ways. Not far, though.”
“How about telling us somewhat about this hire?”
“Not yet.” Budyc rose in the stirrups and looked round the flat view as if scanning for enemies. “Still too soon. Tonight, Captain. Everything will come clear tonight.”
When Maddyn shot Nevyn a nervous glance, the old man merely smiled and shrugged, as if telling him to rest easy in his mind. If it weren’t for the prince, Maddyn might have, but as it was, he kept turning in the saddle and glancing back at Maryn. Since the road here was wide, the troop was riding four abreast, and Maryn was in the second file with Branoic on one side of him, Aethan the other, and Albyn just beyond Aethan—a formidable set of guards by anyone’s standards. No doubt the young prince could swing a sword himself if he had to—he’d certainly had the best teachers that warlike Pyrdon could offer—but all that sunny afternoon Maddyn kept brooding on the painful difference between swordcraft on the practice ground and swordcraft in a scrap. Sooner or later Maryn would have to blood his blade, of course; Maddyn merely prayed with all his heart that it would be later.
A couple of hours before sunset the silver daggers came to a trail that led west off the main road, and Budyc pointed it out to Caradoc with a wave. Yelling orders, Owaen rode down the line and sorted the troop out into single file, with Maryn between Branoic and Aethan about halfway