The Magic of Recluce - L. E. Modesitt [157]
Clink…clink…
We had to hug the edge of the mill street on the other side of the square as a troop of the prefect’s cavalry rode in toward their barracks. Three of the horses at the end were riderless, and a dark splotch stained the leather of the last empty saddle.
The stink of sweat and blood hung over the riders like fog, not obscuring the taint of chaos that also clung to them and to the sabers they bore. To my senses, the blades shimmered like dull-red embers.
Clink, clink…clink…
“Make way…make way…”
…clink…clink…
Neither prisoners nor bodies trailed the empty horses.
Looking at Bostric once the cavalry passed, I shook my head. “Bad news.”
He nodded, and we kept walking.
The Tap Inn had not changed. Even without a fire in the front hearth, the main room was smoky, as acrid as before.
“Lerris!” Perlot had been waiting, and I hurried over, leaving Bostric to his own devices.
“Sorry. We worked a shade late, and then we had to wait for the prefect’s troops.”
Perlot gestured around the table. “This is Jirrle, his son Deryl, Rasten, and Ferralt. Usually, Hertol is here.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “This is Lerris, who has decided to follow Dorman’s tradition and give me a run for my money, or would if he hadn’t decided to make children’s furniture better than regular pieces.”
They all chuckled at that, and Perlot pulled out a chair. “What will you have, Lerris?”
I had to grin sheepishly. “Just redberry, mast—”
“Just Perlot, Lerris. Just Perlot.”
“What’s this about troops?” asked Deryl.
I shrugged. “Don’t know, but about a score of cavalry rode back in. They lost, it looked like. Empty saddles, and no prisoners, and they looked tired. Some of the horses…” I shook my head.
“Hell…” muttered the man at the far side of the round table. “He’s out squabbling with the autarch again.”
The same thin girl with the scar across her face appeared next to Perlot. Her face was still thin, but a bulge below her apron indicated she had been more than merely flirting with someone. “What else, masters?”
“Redberry for Lerris, here, and I’ll have another beer.” The craft-master handed her his heavy empty mug.
“…the autarch’s already proved, after the way they dispatched those rebels from Freetown…”
“I take it that the prefect should avoid trouble with Kyphros?” I asked politely.
Jirrle cleared his throat. “Gallos has a proud history, and the autarch should honor that history and the natural geography…”
“What he means,” added the balding Ferralt with a grin, “is that the prefect wants old Gallos back, as well as some other territory…”
“Ferralt!” snapped the older man. “I said what I meant.”
“He’s on the prefect’s advisory council…” whispered Perlot.
“Are all the autarch’s soldiers women?” I asked.
“Hell no,” added Deryl, setting his mug on the table with a thump. “Just the best ones.”
Thunk! Thunk!
“Here’s the red stuff and the beer. Two, please.”
I handed two coppers to the woman. Perlot looked surprised, but did not protest.
“Women soldiers are uncivilized,” added Rasten.
“What he means,” explained Ferralt, “is that they only fight when they know they can win.”
“Like that one Torrman was complaining about?”
“The black-haired one the autarch promoted over his cousin?”
I swallowed a deep pull of the redberry. “Could someone explain?”
Rasten glared at Ferralt, who grinned. Finally, Ferralt shrugged. “Torrman is married to my sister. His cousin is also Torrman, except he took service with the autarch because the former prefect—that’s a long story. Anyway, the younger Torrman was in line to be sub-commander, except a new squad captain pulled some stunt with water and wiped out the Freetown rebels without a single casualty.
“The autarch promoted her instead. Torrman challenged her to a duel, and the bitch made him look silly. So he played dirty and threw something in her eyes. That didn’t stop her. Instead she took off his sword hand—blind, he swears. The autarch gave him a pension—and a warning.”
“You believe that?” I asked. I did, but I wanted to know whether Ferralt had something else in mind.
“It’s true,