The Enterprise of Death - Jesse Bullington [21]
“I was hoping it would be you,” the necromancer told his apprentice as they stood waiting before his hut in the snow, and Omorose returned his grin.
The Soldier and Death
The mercenaries were three days out from the camp when the men did what Manuel knew they would, which was a day more than he had expected. The first night was free, what with Werner and the rest elated at the promise of wages away from the front line and the fat sacks of rations given to each of them. Manuel had actually gotten an honest night’s sleep once they had stopped a few leagues off, with the witch’s tether wrapped around his wrist and the hope that she would scream if she were disturbed in the night.
The front of the witch’s hood had a tightly laced slit, which Manuel opened to give her food and drink. The glimpses he caught of her features when he did were vague, especially with the blindfold she wore under the sack, but von Stein’s parting words ensured that to Manuel’s gray eyes she bore more than a passing resemblance to both his wife and his niece. Her arms were kept pinned down by the second chain and so he had to hold the waterskins and hard loaves to her dark lips after removing her gag, but she made it easy for him by being neither resistant nor overly eager to be fed and watered. He did not replace the gag after pulling it down around her neck the first night.
The first day proper it rained from dawn to dusk and Manuel let them keep the road, with the men taking shifts to scout ahead lest they encounter a contingent of any variety—the roads were only safe so long as one had strength of numbers. The day after that one of the men had probably noticed something, perhaps when he was hoisting the bottom of her heavy, musty sackcloth to help her relieve herself. They had enjoyed quite the laugh when Manuel had noticed her trying to squat and gone to assist, and they must have noticed how small her feet were or something, and then his already dubious claim of political hostage turned into what spattered his boots. After that they spoke more to themselves, eyeing the bundled prisoner with renewed curiosity, and Manuel did not sleep that night.
Obviously he could not stay awake the entire trip west, and so some part of him was relieved when they made their move in the morning. Get it out of the way now, and quickly. The Kristobel cousins were key, and if he could break them then the odds were back on his side.
“Manuel,” Werner greeted him, and from the man’s honest grin Manuel knew what he was about. “Think I’ll help’er with the business this morn so she don’t mess your boots gain. Sir.”
“You can’t have her.” Manuel addressed the bunched-up trio of Kristof Kristobel, Kuhlhoff Kristobel, and Bernardo as much as Werner. “Von Swine’s kept the pay until we get back with a letter, which we won’t get if anything’s done to her, right? So a fat purse later or a poke with a witch now and maybe a hanged neck for the trouble, which is no choice to my mind. Put yours from it.”
“Witch?” said Werner, and Manuel hoped he had not erred in disclosing this. He had. “Well then, I figure it ain’t my fault what I’m bout, is it? She done bewitched me. She bewitched you lot?”
“I ain’t fuckin no witch,” said Kristof, crossing his arms. That settled it for Manuel—if he took out Werner quickly that would leave Bernardo, and with the Kristobels—
“I will,” said Kuhlhoff. “Why not? See if she’s cold inside like they say, eh?”
This left Manuel with a serious problem. One Kristobel simply was not enough, and he doubted—
“Settled, then,” Werner said, and Manuel noticed the dagger in the man’s left hand. When had he drawn that?
“Ya said we could toss fa first,” said Bernardo, pushing between the Kristobels. Manuel let his eyes flit over their camp but did not back down