Two-Edged Blade

There was no sense of unity as there had been whenever Lerryn held a meeting. Only unhappiness and unease, and a feeling of resignation, as if they all knew the orders would be bad, and no longer cared.

Ardana finally showed up, with one of the merchants following like a fat shadow, stalking to the front of the tent with a jerky, stiff-legged gait that reminded Kero of a half-mad, half-starved dog she’d seen once that was trying to face down a much bigger animal over a bone. Outmatched, but too crazy to admit it.

Ardana’s scowl, which had become as much a part of her face as her flint-hard eyes, didn’t do anything to change that assessment. She knows she can’t handle this, but she can’t give it up, Kero thought wonderingly. She’s so eaten up with the importance of being Captain that she won’t step down even though she’s killing off her own Company. What is wrong with the woman? Did she get hit over the head when we weren’t looking? What turned her into this monster?

The Captain tugged at the hem of her tunic constantly, trying to pull out wrinkles that weren’t there. Like the scowl, it was a nervous habit that had emerged after her elevation to Captain.

“Our employers aren’t happy with our progress,” the woman said, into the sullen silence that followed her entrance. “They say they have reason to believe that we’re slacking off.”

A few months ago, that pronouncement would have been met with angry shouts. Now—a low rumbling, a weary growl, was all the Captain got as a response. They don’t care anymore. Not about our reputation, not about pride—they’re like saddle-galled horses, still going only because they’re being prodded and quitting hurts more.

Ardana’s lips tightened in what Kero read as satisfaction when no one said anything. “I told them we’re going to end this now. Tomorrow I want every one of you up and ready to ride—”

And the orders she outlined were nothing less than suicide. A straight charge, right up onto the line, when they had nothing backing them and their opponents had holed themselves up in the ruins of a village. The place was a maze of half-ruined buildings; ideal for defense, and impossible for cavalry. And that was if the Skybolts actually were cavalry.

Kero listened with her mouth agape, unable to believe the monumental stupidity of such a plan. It’s them, the merchants, she thought, slowly, putting what she was hearing together with what she was not hearing, but sensing from the merchant. She opened her mind to him, and was sickened by what she found there. Dearest gods. I should have read their thoughts when they were here the first time. I should have—

Because what she read was worse than anything she had imagined. These men had no intention of paying the rest of their fee—but they were going to solve the problem by making certain there was no Company left to be paid.

So far as they were concerned, this final charge would solve all their problems very neatly. Most of the Skybolts would die; the rest would drift away, leaderless—six months ago, that would have been unthinkable, but demoralized as they were now, it was not only possible, it was probable. And the suicidal charge would also decimate the enemy ranks enough that the free-lancers could mop them up, and would probably be only too willing for the sake of the looting involved.

I’m on the wounded list—I won’t be going out there—that had been her first reaction, when Ardana had outlined the “battle plan.” Now she blushed with shame at her own reaction. Even I’ve sunk that low, thinking only of myself. How can I fault the others?

But the fact that she was on the wounded list gave her a weapon this fat merchant could never have anticipated. She would sacrifice her career—but better that, than to see the last of her friends going down to physical and moral death.

By Guild rules, anyone on the wounded list could sever his contract, though hardly anyone ever did.

Maybe if she walked, now, she’d wake them up, force them to see what they were being lured into.

It was worth a try.

She stood up, and suddenly every eye in the room was on her. Even Ardana stopped in mid-sentence, and stared at her in mild surprise.

“I’ve never heard such a crock of shit in my life,” Kero said, loudly and bluntly. She pointed an accusatory finger at the merchant. “He is going to get every one of us killed.” She pointed at Ardana, “And you are going to let him get away with it. Lerryn has to be spinning in his grave like an express-wagon axle.”

Ardana’s mouth dropped open; beside her, the fat merchant registered equal shock. He wasn’t thinking; just reacting. Surprise that any of these “stupid mercenaries” had seen what the “master plan” was, and outrage that the same stupid mercenary would have the audacity to challenge him on it.

Kero looked around her, slowly and deliberately. “In fact, I don’t see anyone here I’d be willing to call a Skybolt.” She turned back to Ardana, ripped the badge off her sleeve, and threw it at the Captain’s feet. “I’m severing my contract. Go hire some of that scum outside the camp to take my place. If you can find one stupid enough to go along with this.”