“What do you think of this wine?” my new acquaintance asked me unexpectedly.
I told him the absolute truth.
“It’s swill.”
The baron laughed deafeningly and in his excessive enthusiasm he thumped me on the back, almost fracturing my spine.
“Ah, I like you! I’ve always said if only we had a lot more dralans in our kingdom, soon there wouldn’t be a single namby-pamby left in the nobility. The moment you appeared in the hall, everyone said you were stupid and ignorant. But I can see that’s not true!”
“Who said that?” I asked, trying to get my breath back after the baron’s bearlike blow.
“All of these carrion-eaters,” said the baron, gesturing round the hall without the slightest embarrassment. “What do you think they all do with their time, my dear fellow?” Oro Gabsbarg’s little black eyes glinted in fury. “Tittle-tattle! They don’t have anything better to do. These popinjays who dare to call themselves men pour scent on their handkerchiefs!”
I thought the baron was going to vomit on my doublet there and then.
“Can you imagine it? But I can see that you’re a different kind, better than these puppy dogs,” Oro Gabsbarg boomed contentedly and chuckled into his beard as he winked at me. “Well, didn’t I just save you from those cunning little serpents?”
“I beg your pardon?” I didn’t understand what he meant.
“From those demons in skirts! How did you like the way I shooed them off? The little widows. Their main pastime is dragging a new man into their bed. Well of course, bed is an essential and important business, but before you get round to doing your business, these ladies, who would be better called harlots, will stuff you with poison right up to your … What I was going to say is that all their husbands preferred to be stabbed to death by Wild Boars and Oburs. You must agree, it’s better than putting up with a rotten bitch.”
I nodded in agreement. The baron seemed to be in need of a grateful listener, and he had found one.
“The nobles are getting petty, really petty,” the giant sighed plaintively. “They’re not at all what they used to be. The nobility haven’t had real blood running through their veins for ages; it’s as thin as water. Of course, with the exception of you and me,” he added hastily.
“Of course.”
Despite his loud voice and not entirely elegant manners, I was beginning to like this man.
“How many swords has your duke got?”
Oro Gabsbarg’s question stumped me. How many swords did Duke Ganet Shagor really have? And what kind of swords? The kind you hang on your belt, or the kind you command in battle?
Seeing my confusion, the baron uttered the bearlike roar that was his normal laugh.
“That’s what sitting stuck at Sea Cliffs all the time gets you! Your lands are peaceful, Zagraba’s a long way away, and you can’t even remember how many warriors your lord has!”
“It can’t be helped, my friend,” I said with a shrug.
“Friend?” The baron gave me a curious look. “Yes, why not!”
He grabbed hold of my hand and crushed it in his palm. Thank Sagot, by some miracle my hand was still whole and undamaged after that handshake.
“And how do you feel about the Nightingales, dear fellow?”
“Er-er…,” I began warily.
“You don’t feel anything,” Shadow Harold’s new friend, Oro Gabsbarg, concluded impassively, reading the answer in my eyes. “I confess from the very bottom of my heart,” he whispered, leaning down to my ear, “I feel the same. But mum’s the word, all right? Sh-sh-sh-sh!”
“Then what’s that nightingale doing on your doublet?”
“Oh, you northerners,” the baron murmured wearily. “Times are hard, dear fellow. My ancestral castle of Farahall is not very far away from Zagraba. Of course, there are still the lands of Milord Algert Dalli, Buttress of the Throne and Keeper of the Western Border of the Border Kingdom, but the Firstborn still manage to get through even as far as me. This year alone we wiped out two detachments of orcs, but a third one completely massacred one of my villages and then disappeared into the woods. I have a hundred and fifty warriors at my castle, plus another hundred scattered about in patrols. There aren’t enough swords, the orcs find breaches in our defenses. There are rumors that the Hand of the Orcs is gathering an army. And so, my friend, I’d gladly be a butterfly, never mind a nightingale, if only Balistan Pargaid would give me fighting men!”
“I understand.”
“You don’t understand a thing, my dear dralan!” Oro Gabsbarg thundered with unexpected fury. “Pardon my harsh tone, but trying to tell you about our troubles is like trying to explain to a blind man what a catapult looks like! Your duke’s lands are too far away from the damned forest, you cannot feel or understand the threat that constantly hangs over those of us who live in the Borderland. Since the Spring War the orcs have stayed put in the Golden Forest, but nobody’s patience lasts forever, and any lesson is eventually forgotten.”
He frowned.
“I’ve written to His Majesty three times and asked him to send me men. I’m rich enough to feed three hundred additional soldiers, but the king hasn’t replied. I don’t think he’s to blame; the letters might not have reached him, or got lost. You know yourself how easy it is to lose a letter. My men were not admitted to the palace, they’re too unimportant to be allowed to tramp across all that marble! And I can’t get to the capital, I can’t leave the lands of my ancestors for long. Not in times like these … I only came away for this gathering because I was relying on getting the count’s help, but obviously I was wrong. The border is uneasy, and if anything happens, we won’t be able to hold out.… So, instead of experienced warriors, I have to make do with my own militia raised from the local villages and mercenaries. Ganet Shagor is a relative of the king, isn’t he?”
“A distant one.”
“Do something for me, will you? If you’re in the capital, have the duke tell Stalkon about this conversation of ours. The king’s an intelligent man, he must realize that our southern border is coming apart at the seams.”
“But there are the garrisons—”
“A bunch of idle, drunken guardsmen!” Oro Gabsbarg replied derisively. “Decades of peace have completely undermined discipline! A quarter of the fortresses are standing empty. And in another quarter of them the soldiers don’t even know how to hold a sword. Yes, I’m prejudiced, yes there are some garrisons where they still haven’t forgotten what orcs are, but the situation is de-plor-a-ble. Absolutely deplorable. If, Sagra forbid, anything should happen, they’ll push us back to the Iselina, or even further. Do you understand me?”
I nodded. I was sure that in Avendoom they didn’t know any of this. Or, at least, the king didn’t. Everybody thought that since the Spring War the border of the kingdom was unassailable and securely defended against incursions from the land of forests.
If the king found out how things really stood, heads would roll.
“Will you tell the duke what I said?”
“At the first opportunity,” I replied quite sincerely. “And not just the duke, but the king himself. Just give us time to get back to Avendoom.”
The baron’s dark eyes were still fixed on me.
“I swear it.”
“Wonderful! Thank you, my friend, I’ll never forget this! Er-er, excuse me, dralan, but my wife wants me. You can see the way she’s looking at me. She’s a handsome enough woman, but the trouble is that she’s too quick with her hands. Let me tell you a secret: She has a magnificent spiked mace. I swear by all the gods, I lose three duels out of five to her! So you can understand.… If you’re ever in my parts, you must come and visit. Farahall is at your service!”
The baron bowed awkwardly and left me.
Well, the things that are going on in our kingdom!
Just then one of the wanton ladies started taking an interest in Eel. I went dashing to help him out, but someone else got there ahead of me: An old woman holding a little shaggy dog in her arms came to the Wild Heart’s assistance. She brushed the latest little widow aside as if she simply wasn’t there.
The seductress hissed something scurrilous through her delightful teeth to express her dissatisfaction and went on her way, greatly offended. The reason she left was clear enough: Milady was only a marchioness, she had a little coat of arms on a chain, but granny had an entire duchess’s crown. The forces were unevenly matched.
