“Ah…thanks for that, your Holiness.”
Amatesu did not quite get the last word, as the dialect spoken by these men was a bit more stilted and formal than the simple Codian she knew. She got the gist, and nodded in return.
“This is the only of you men who speaks Zantanese?” she asked. At her feet, Baj Nif’s mouth hung open and his chest rose and fell steadily. The officer nodded.
“Zantish, yes, but again thanking you for your services, Ma’am…I don’t think that ol’ Zeb is going to be up to any translating for a while. You are of course welcome to wait…”
“No, we must take him with us.” Amatesu looked toward the Ayzantine sergeant who had led them up here and was now lurking behind Uriako Shikashe. The ronin samurai stood with his arms crossed in their ornate kote sleeves, eyeing the mercenaries. The sergeant had apparently decided his own part in this discussion was over, and was now determined to go overlooked.
“Pardon me,” the blonde officer said. “Not to deny your abilities as a healer, but at the moment Axman Baj Nif does not look up to going, or being taken, much of anywhere. Further, this whole platoon is under orders to maintain our post, as a body.”
Amatesu lowered her eyes and bowed to the officer.
“My apology, sir, but we have the word of your Colonel from himself. We have need of the Zebulon Baj Nif’s…mouth, and so he has been…ordered new.”
She must not have said that quite right, for there were some bemused looks exchanged among the mercenaries. Their murmuring stopped as Uriako-sama spoke. His lordship had a voice which always drew full attention, even though Amatesu was the only one present who understood his words.
“What is this delay?” the samurai asked in their native Ashinese. Amatesu answered in the same language.
“These men do not wish their companion to be taken from here.”
Uriako-sama’s o-yori armor creaked as he looked slowly left and right.
“Of course not, these are soldiers. They will not let one of their own be taken away by strangers.”
Amatesu frowned. “But they are only mercenaries.”
Uriako-sama flicked a sour look at Amatesu, and she lowered her eyes to the ground again.
“Forgiveness, my lord, but their commander sold us this man without scruple.”
Uriako-sama snorted. “I speak not of officers driving men for pay, but of soldiers in the field. They live and fight and die together, and together they will stay.”
Only a few minutes ago in the broken manor house with its false-log cannons, Uriako Shikashe had dispatched a half-dozen Daulmen to the hereafter. He did not seem to judge the dozen men standing around at their ease now as much more of an impediment. With an unvoiced sigh, Amatesu turned to the yellow-headed officer.
“My apology, sir. I should explain more all. The man-axe Baj Nif will be asleep this day, but should be fine by the night. We take him to the headquarters, where there are books in the Codian words that the Ayzants must know. He will have time to be clean and well-fed, and in one day or two, or three, he will be finished and brought back to here.”
“I should have learned that Ayzant talk,” one of the other men muttered. Their officer however was frowning.
“Ma’am, this platoon might not even be in these works three days from now. As their Leftenant, I can in no case permit them to be detailed without a direct order from a regimental officer.”
Amatesu took a humble step forward, though instead of further lowering her gaze, which would have been the done thing at home, she met the man’s eyes with her own. She had learned that was more effective on this side of the Interminable Ocean.
“Please, Left-tenant sir. I understand you, but I have orders of my own. I do promise to you that I myself, in four or five days, a few more at longest, will find where you are and myself bring Zebulon Baj Nif back to that place. This I do promise, by my Holiness.”
The officer said nothing for a moment, but another of his men interjected. “Well if she won’t have me, let her take the oaf.” Others chuckled, and the officer finally nodded.
“I thank you, Left-tenant-san. Is there…does Zebulon Baj Nif have equipments?”
The officer waved at one of his men, who hopped back into the gaping hollow and soon returned with a jerkin of poor armor wrapped around a pack and a crossbow, all tied in a bundle to the haft of a long, double- bladed axe. A few others fetched water and wiped the blood from Baj Nif’s arm, expressing wonder to find only the faintest scarring, seemingly years old, from a wound that had been fresh minutes before.
The man with the equipment offered it to Uriako-sama, who did not uncross his arms nor otherwise acknowledge the fellow. The Ayzant sergeant finally took the gear, muttering to himself.
“I should detail a party to carry Zeb for you,” the officer said. “He is not the lightest log in the bundle.”
“No thank you. We can manage,” Amatesu said. She knelt, hoisted the unconscious man up to a seat and drew his arms forward, twisted the back of her neck to his belly and with a good deal of tottering regained her feet. Zebulon Baj Nif murmured dreamily as Amatesu hooked an arm around his neck and the other around one leg. Most of his fellows only stared agape, but a few bit their knuckles and looked as though they might collapse, laughing.
“I will see you again,” Amatesu said to the officer. Uriako-sama had already turned to march away, and Amatesu hobbled a few steps after him before finding a stride she thought she would be able to manage all the way back down to the docks, though it was going to be a travail. The Ayzant sergeant brought up the rear, still griping under his breath. Behind them, the mercenaries began jeering, blowing kisses and catcalls in their wake.
“What did you say to them?” Uriako-sama asked as they approached the rear side of the ridge.
“Nothing but lies,” Amatesu huffed.
Chapter Seven
It was hours before anything was explained to Tilda.
She and Captain Block had only stared as Dugan announced the dwarf’s identity to the Trellane guards at the bridge, who in turn had looked deeply befuddled. It was not until the Captain drew back his hood and let his braid hang forward over his shoulder that the guards whispered between themselves before one led the three travelers across the bridge and to the cluster of buildings around the flagpole. The guard took Block and Dugan into the barracks to speak with someone of more authority, while Tilda was left outside with the horses. Some men leading a pair of ox-drawn wagons from the docks down the road toward the town eyed her curiously and one whistled, but Tilda ignored them.
After only a few minutes another guard left the barracks, hurried to the adjoining stable for a horse, and galloped down the road toward Trellaneville. A few minutes more and Block and Dugan emerged with an officer of some kind, who bowed politely to the Captain. Block had reversed his Guild cloak so that the satiny green lining flashed in the sun, but his face was set in a scowl and his brow was so furrowed it nearly shaded his dark eyes. While he and Tilda had not exactly been traveling through the Empire incognito, announcing real names and House affiliations to all and sundry was not something Guilders did when they were abroad.
Four more guards trooped out of the barracks and their officer gave them a quick inspection while Block and Dugan crossed the square to where Tilda waited. They started speaking to each other quietly when they were halfway across, and Dugan kept talking as he boosted the dwarf up onto the pony.
“No, you don’t need to make up anything. Just tell the baron your business is only with the King, and he will send us on our way. I’ve thought this through, Cap’n. Trust me.”
“Trust you?” Block growled, his eyes fairly burning into Dugan’s skull. “That is a laugh.”
“Yes, I can see you are amused.”
With Block in his saddle, Dugan nodded at the Trellane men, who marched over. Tilda climbed up on her own horse and Dugan led the two animals onto the road and toward the town. The four guards walked around them in a square formation, which Tilda hoped was meant as some sort of honor guard.
