one day when the onshore wind was particularly chill and damp.
i’m a farmer, Sparhawk,’ Khalad replied, scratching at his
short black beard. ‘Waiting for things to grow teaches you not
to expect changes overnight.’
‘I suppose I’ve never really thought about what it must be like
just sitting still waiting for things to sprout.’
There’s not much sitting still when you’re a farmer,’ Khalad
told him. ‘There are always more things to do than there are
hours in the day, and if you get bored, you can always keep a
close watch on the sky. A whole year’s work can be lost in a
dry-spell or a sudden hailstorm.’
I hadn’t thought about that either.’ Berit mulled it over.
That’s what makes you so good at predicting the weather, isn’t
it?
It helps.’
There’s more to it than that, though. You always seem to
know about everything that’s going on around you. When we
were on that log-boom, you knew instantly when there was the
slightest change in the way it was moving.’
‘It’s called “‘paying attention”, my Lord. The world around
you is screaming at you all the time, but most people can’t seem
to hear it. That really baffles me. I can’t understand how you
can miss so many things.’
Berit was just slightly offended by that. ‘All right, what’s the
world screaming at you right now that I can’t hear?’
‘It’s telling me that we’re going to need some fairly substantial
shelter tonight. We’ve got bad weather coming.’
‘How did you arrive at that?’
Khalad pointed. ‘You see those seagulls?’ he asked.
‘Yes. What’s that got to do with it?’
Khalad sighed. ‘What do seagulls eat, my Lord?’
“Just about everything – fish mostly, I suppose.’
‘Then why are they flying inland? They aren’t going to find
very many fish on dry land, are they? They’ve seen something
they don’t like out there in the gulf and they’re running away
from it. Just about the only thing that frightens a seagull is wind
– and the high seas that go with it. There’s a storm out to sea,
and it’s coming this way. That’s what the world’s screaming at
me right now.’
‘It’s just common sense then, isn’t it?’
‘Most things are, Sparhawk – common sense and experience.’
Khalad smiled slightly. ‘I can still feel Krager’s Styric out there
watching us. If he isn’t paying any more attention than you
were just now, he’s probably going to spend a very miserable
night.’ Berit grinned just a bit viciously. ‘Somehow that information
fails to disquiet me,’ he said.
It was more than a village, but not quite a town. It had three
streets, for one thing, and at least six buildings of more than
one story, for another. The streets were muddy, and pigs
roamed freely. The buildings were made primarily of wood and
they were roofed with thatch. There was an inn on what purported
to be the main street. It was a substantial-looking building,
and there were a pair of rickety wagons with dispirited
mules in their traces out front. Ulath reined in the weary old
horse he had bought in the fishing village. ‘What do you think?’
he said to his friend.
‘I thought you’d never ask,’ Tynian replied.
‘Let’s go ahead and take a room as well,’ Ulath suggested.
‘The afternoon’s wearing on anyway, and I’m getting tired
of sleeping on the ground. Besides, I’m a little overdue for a
bath.’
Tynian looked toward the starkly outlined peaks of the Tamul
Mountains lying some leagues to the west. ‘i’d really hate to
keep the Trolls waiting, Ulath,’ he said with mock seriousness.
‘It’s not as if we had a definite appointment with them. Trolls
wouldn’t notice anyway. They’ve got a very imprecise notion of
time.’
They rode on into the innyard, tied their horses to a rail outside
the stable and went on into the inn.
‘We need a room,’ Ulath told the innkeeper in heavily
accented Tamul.
The innkeeper was a small, furtive-looking man. He gave
them a quick, appraising glance, noting the bits and pieces of
army uniform that made up most of their dress. His expression
hardened with distaste. Soldiers are frequently unwelcome in
rural communities for any number of very good reasons. ‘Well,’
he replied in a whining, sing-song sort of voice, ‘I don’t know.
It’s our busy season -‘
‘Late autumn?’ Tynian broke in skeptically. ‘That’s your busy
season?’
‘Well – there are all the wagoneers who can come by at any
time, you know.’
Ulath looked beyond the innkeeper’s shoulder into the low,
smoky taproom. ‘I count three,’ he said flatly.
‘There are bound to be more along shortly,’ the fellow replied
just a bit too quickly.
‘Of course there are,’ Tynian said sarcastically. ‘But we’re here
now, and we’ve got money. Are you going to gamble a sure
thing against the remote possibility that some wagon might stop
here along about midnight?’
‘He doesn’t want to do business with a couple of pensioned-off
veterans, Corporal,’ Ulath said. ‘Let’s go talk with the local
commissioner. I’m sure he’ll be very interested in the way this
fellow treats his Imperial Majesty’s soldiers.’
‘i’m his Imperial Majesty’s loyal subject,’ the innkeeper said quickly ‘and
I’ll be honored to have brave veterans of his army under my roof. ‘
‘How much?’ Tynian cut him off.
‘A half-crown?’
‘He doesn’t seem very certain. does he, Sergeant?’ Tynian
asked his friend. ‘I think you misunderstood,’ he said then to
the nervous innkeeper. ‘We don’t want to buy the room. We
just want to rent it for one night.’
Ulath was staring hard at the now-frightened little Tamul.
‘Eight pence,’ he countered with a note of finality.
‘Eight?’ the innkeeper objected in a shrill voice.
‘Take it or leave it – and don’t be all day about it. We’ll need
a little daylight to find the Commissioner.’
‘You’re a hard man, Sergeant.’
‘Nobody ever promised you that life would be easy, did they?’
Ulath counted out some coins and jingled them in his hand. ‘Do
you want these or not?’
After a moment of agonized indecision, the innkeeper reluctantly
took the coins.
‘You took all the fun out of that, you know,’ Tynian complained
as the two went back out to the stable to see to their
horses. ‘i’m thirsty,’ Ulath shrugged. ‘Besides, a couple of ex-soldiers
would know in advance exactly how much they were willing to
pay, wouldn’t they?’ He scratched at his face. ‘I wonder if Sir
Gerda would mind if I shaved off his beard,’ he mused. ‘This
thing itches.’
‘It’s not really his face, Ulath. It’s still yours. You’ve just been
modified to look like him.’
‘Yes, but when the ladies switch our faces back, they’ll use
this one as a model for Gerda, and when they’re done, he’ll be
standing there with a naked face. He might object.’
They unsaddled their horses put them into stalls and went on
into the taproom. Tamul drinking establishments were arranged
differently from those owned by Elenes. The tables were much
lower, for one thing, and here the room was heated by a porcelain
stove rather than a fireplace. The stove smoked as badly
as a fireplace, though. Wine was served in delicate little cups
and ale in cheap tin tankards. The smell was much the same,
however. They were just starting on their second tankard of ale when
an officious-looking Tamul in a food-spotted wool mantle came
into the room and walked directly to their table. ‘I’ll have a look
‘at your release papers, if you don’t mind,’ he told them in a
loftily superior tone.
‘And if we do?’ Ulath asked.
The official blinked. ‘What?’
‘You said if we don’t mind. What if we do mind?’
‘I have the authority to demand to see those documents.’
‘Why did you ask, then?’ Ulath reached inside his red uniform
jacket and took out a dog-eared sheet of paper. ‘in our old regiment,
men in authority never asked.’
The Tamul read through the documents Oscagne had provided
them as a part of their disguise. ‘These seem to be in
order,’ he said in a more conciliatory tone. ‘Sorry I was so abrupt.
We’ve been told to keep our eyes out for deserters – all the
turmoil, you understand. I guess the army looks a lot less attractive
when there’s fighting in the wind.’ He looked at them a bit
wistfully. ‘I see you were stationed in Matherion.’
Tynian nodded. ‘It was good duty – a lot of inspections and
polishing, though. Sit down, Commissioner.’
The Tamul smiled faintly. ‘Deputy-Commissioner, I’m afraid,
Corporal. This backwater doesn’t rate a full Commissioner.’ He
slid into a chair. ‘Where are you men bound?’
‘Home,’ Ulath said, ‘back to Verel in Daconia.’
“you’ll forgive my saying so, Sergeant, but you don’t look all
that much like a Dacite.’
Ulath shrugged. ‘I take after my mother’s family. She was an
Astel before she married my father. Tell me, Deputy-Commissioner,