Memories of Ice

baby! Hah, a baby!'

Stonny threw him a sneer.

They were sitting in a back room in the tavern, the leavings of a meal on the table between them.

'In any case,' Gruntle said, sighing, 'that meeting will last the rest of the night, and come the morning our master will be the only one among us privileged to catch up on his sleep — in the comfy confines of his carriage. We've got rooms upstairs with almost-clean beds and I suggest we make use of them.'

'That would be to actually sleep, dearest Stonny,' Harllo explained.

'Rest assured I'll bar the door, runt.'

'Nektara has a secret knock, presumably.'

'Wipe that grin off your face or I'll do it for you, Harllo.'

'How come you get all the fun, anyway?'

She grinned. 'Breeding, mongrel. What I got and you ain't got.'

'Education, too, huh?'

'Precisely.'

A moment later, the door swung open and Keruli entered.

Gruntle leaned back in his chair and eyed the priest. 'So, have you succeeded in recruiting the city's thugs, murderers and extortionists to your cause?'

'More or less,' Keruli replied, striding over to pour himself some wine. 'War, alas,' he sighed, 'must be fought on more than one kind of battlefield. The campaign will be a long one, I fear.'

'Is that why we're headed to Capustan?'

The priest's gaze settled on Gruntle for a moment, then he turned away. 'I have other tasks awaiting me there, Captain. Our brief detour here in Saltoan is incidental, in the great scheme of things.'

And which great scheme is that, Priest? Gruntle wanted to ask, but didn't. His master was beginning to make him nervous, and he suspected that any answer to that question would only make matters worse. No, Keruli, you keep your secrets.

The archway beneath Sunrise Gate was as dark as a tomb, the air chill and damp. Waytown's shanty sprawl was visible just beyond, through a haze of smoke lit gold by the morning sun.

Grainy-eyed and itching with flea bites, Gruntle nudged his horse into an easy trot as soon as he rode into the sunlight. He'd remained in Saltoan, lingering around the Gate for two bells, whilst Harllo and Stonny had driven the carriage and its occupant out of the city a bell before dawn. They would be at least two leagues along the river road, he judged.

Most of the banditry on the first half of this stretch to Capustan was headquartered in Saltoan — the stretch's second half, in Capan territory, was infinitely safer. Spotters hung around Sunrise Gate to mark the caravans heading east, much as he'd seen their counterparts on the west wall at Sunset Gate keeping an eye out for caravans bound for Darujhistan. Gruntle had waited to see if any local packs had made plans for Keruli's party, but no-one had set out in pursuit, confirming the master's assertion that safe passage had been guaranteed. It wasn't in Gruntle's nature to take thieves at their word, however.

He worked his horse into a canter to escape Waytown's clouds of flies and, flanked by half-wild, barking dogs, rode clear of the shanty-town and onto the open, rocky river road. Vision Plain's gently rolling prairie reached out to the distant Barghast Range on his left. To his right was a rough bank of piled stones — mostly overgrown with grasses — and beyond it the reedy flats of the river's floodplain.

The dogs abandoned him a few hundred paces beyond Waytown and the captain found himself alone on the road. The trader track would fade before long, he recalled, the dyke on his right dwindling, the road itself becoming a sandy swath humped with ant nests, bone-white driftwood and yellow knots of grass, with floods wiping the ruts away every spring. There was no chance of getting lost, of course, so long as one kept Catlin River within sight to the south.

He came upon the corpses less than a league further on. The highwaymen had perfectly positioned their ambush, emerging from a deeply cut, seasonal stream bed and no doubt surrounding their victim's carriage in moments. The precise planning hadn't helped, it seemed. Two or three days old at the most, bloated and almost black under the sun, their bodies were scattered to both sides of the track. Swords, lance-heads, buckles and anything else that was metal had all melted under some ferocious heat, yet clothing and leather bindings were unmarked. A number of the bandits wore spurs, and indeed there would have been no way of getting out this far without horses, but of the beasts there was no sign.

Dismounted and wandering among the dead, Gruntle noted that the tracks of Keruli's carriage — they too had stopped to examine the scene — were overlying another set. A wider, heavier carriage, drawn by oxen.

There were no visible wounds on the corpses.

I doubt Buke had to even so much as draw his blade.

The captain climbed back into his saddle and resumed his journey.

He caught sight of his companions half a league further on, and rode up alongside the carriage a short while later.

Harllo gave him a nod. 'A fine day, wouldn't you say, Gruntle?'

'Not a cloud in the sky. Where's Stonny?'

'Took one of the horses ahead. Should be back soon.'

'Why did she do that?'

'Just wanted to make certain the wayside camp was … uh, unoccupied. Ah, here she comes.'

Gruntle greeted her with a scowl as she reined in before them. 'Damned stupid thing to do, woman.'

'This whole journey's stupid if you ask me. There's three Barghast at the wayside camp — and no, they ain't roasted any bandits lately. Anyway, Capustan's bare days away from a siege — maybe we make the walls in time, in which case we'll be stuck there with the whole Pannion army between us and the open road, or we don't make it in time and those damned Tenescowri have fun with us.'

Gruntle's scowl deepened. 'Where are those Barghast headed, then?'

'They came down from the north, but now they're travelling the same as us — they want to take a look at things closer to Capustan and don't ask me why — they're Barghast, ain't they? Brains the size of walnuts. We got to talk with the master, Gruntle.'

The carriage door swung open and Keruli climbed out. 'No need, Stonny Menackis, my hearing is fine. Three Barghast, you said. Which clan?'

'White Face, if the paint's any indication.'

'We shall invite them to travel with us, then.'

'Master-' Gruntle began, but Keruli cut him off.

'We shall arrive in Capustan well before the siege, I believe. The Septarch responsible for the Pannion forces is known for a methodical approach. Once I am delivered, your duties will be discharged and you will be free to leave immediately for Darujhistan.' His dark, uncanny eyes narrowed on Gruntle. 'You do not have a reputation for breaking contracts, else I would not have hired you.'

'No, sir, we've no intention of breaking our contract. None the less, it might be worth discussing our options — what if Capustan is besieged before we arrive?'

'Then I shall not see you lose your lives in any desperate venture, Captain. I need then only be dropped off outside the range of the enemy, and I shall make my own way into the city, and such subterfuge is best attempted alone.'

'You would attempt to pass through the Pannion cordon?'

Keruli smiled. 'I have relevant skills for such an undertaking.'

Do you now? 'What about these Barghast? What makes you think they can be trusted to travel in our company?'

'If untrustworthy, better they be in sight than out of it, wouldn't you agree, Captain?'

He grunted. 'You've a point there, master.' He faced Harllo and Stonny, slowly nodded.

Harllo offered him a resigned smile.

Stonny was, predictably, not so nearly laconic. 'This is insanity!' Then she tossed up her hands. 'Fine, then! We ride into the dragon's maw, why not?' She spun her horse round. 'Let's go throw bones with the Barghast, shall we?'

Grimacing, Gruntle watched her ride off.