“Good.” The Duke swept his eyes over the Pliuni contingent. “Have your men return whatever they took to the correct houses, at once.” The captain turned to his sergeants and gave the orders. Those who had taken bundles picked them up and moved reluctantly toward the houses. “Hurry up!” called the Duke sharply. “We’ve wasted enough time on this nonsense.”
In a few minutes the men were back in formation and the march resumed. Paks wondered how good the Pliuni troops would be in a fight—and how loyal.
The next morning they met Vladi’s Company in a narrow wood. They were grim and weathered-looking; soon the stories of their campaign spread through the troops. Vladi’s men had reached Cortes Cilwan before Siniava, but had found the city divided in allegiance. The city militia, so the tavern gossip ran, was half for Siniava already. The Count of Cilwan would not risk rebellion on the eve of war, and refused to arrest even known traitors—some said because his dead wife’s brother was chief among them. Although it had been planned otherwise, the Vonja militia had not joined Vladi’s men, wanting to be sure which way trouble was coming before moving. So although messages were sent as soon as Siniava’s presence in the Immer valley was certain, the Vonja troops were several days’ march away.
“And that left us,” said the burly sergeant talking to Stammel. “We marched out to meet his whole army. Just us. Those damned militia wouldn’t leave the city walls, and Vladi refused to take the Count’s Guard—said they were loyal, and he had too few who were.” He hawked and spat “You can imagine—outnumbered about five to one—all we could do was slow ’em.”
“Did you get the Count out?” asked Stammel, as he offered the other man a skin of wine.
“Mmm. That’s good; we haven’t had anything but water these last weeks. No, their fool Count wouldn’t come. He said he was Count of Cilwan, and he was staying where he belonged.” He swallowed again. “They killed him when they broke in, a couple of days later. Hung his corpse on the gate, and that. He did let us get his heir out. Boy of eleven or so. Nice lad. I suppose now, with the news you brought about the south, they’ll send him to Andressat. The old Count’s daughter married the Viscount of Andressat; he’ll be safe enough there.”
“I imagine so. We don’t need a child with us on this campaign.” Stammel shook his head. “Well, did they pursue you when you came here?”
“Pursue! Ha! We tried to attack their rear, before they broke the citadel, and they drove us back—pretty bad, that time; we lost too many. Then we moved south, toward Immervale, and harried their supply line. We kept hoping those Vonja militia would show up in time to save the citadel. Finally Vladi took us around north of the city. We finally found the militia, a day’s march out,
“No, what?”
“Well, our spies said Siniava had garrisoned Cortes Cilwan and was moving toward Koury. We thought even Vonja should be able to trap him there, with Ambela and Sorellin coming down from the north. But that fell apart because Siniava’s factions in Cortes Vonja and Pler Vonja revolted, and as soon as the militia heard, they hared off home to join in the fight. Sorellin never moved, so Koury fell easily, and Siniava had fresh troops. He went for Ambela next, and held off the Sorellin militia long enough to breach the wall and loot. In fact, I hear he routed both the Sorellin militia and a group from Pler Vonja. The last I heard, he was actually marching on Pler Vonja, and Foss Council had finally decided to send someone like they promised. Of course, they’re on the road somewhere, and Tir knows if they’ll come up in time to fight. Or if they’ll fight. Militia!”
Stammel nodded his agreement. “Has it been quiet over here, then?”
“Not really. You’ll find out. He must have a small army of agents in Cilwan; they can take out sentries without a sound. You’ll lose a man or so every night if you don’t double your guardposts. And all you ever get back is pieces—hands and feet lying in the trail, or an arm tacked up on a barn.”
“And you’ve never caught them at it?”
“No, not since we left the city. We lost three men in Cortes Cilwan, but we caught those bastards who did it in the same house with the bodies. Out here, no.”
A shout from the captains ended this conversation, and the army was soon marching again, enlarged by Vladi’s Company. The rest of that day and the next they marched north and west, angling toward Cortes Vonja. By nightfall the first day, they had reached the south bank of the Immerest, the great western arm of the Immer River. They passed no bridges, and the river was too deep to ford, so the commanders decided to march upstream another day rather than risk a boat crossing. The Halverics thought they remembered a ford somewhere south of Cortes Vonja.
It was on this day, in broad daylight, that Siniava’s agents struck at the column. The first Paks knew about it was in forming up again after a rest break at midmorning. Three people were missing; a search of the river-bank and woods along it yielded nothing. The Pliuni smirked, and Paks heard one mutter something about “typical mercenaries—deserters.” After a half-glass spent searching and calling, the column moved on. Paks knew that old Harek, a veteran, would never have deserted.
Perhaps an hour later, Aliam Halveric rode up beside her cohort and asked Stammel if he’d seen the senior Halveric captain. When Stammel said no, he rode on up the column. Stammel looked worried. Paks wondered if the Halveric captain had disappeared. She felt a cramp of cold fear. Could he have been captured? In daylight? When the column halted at midday, orders were given that no one move out of sight of the column. Paks saw the Duke and Aliam Halveric ride down the column together, talking quietly. She had never seen the Halveric like that, gray- faced and drawn; it must be that the Halveric captain—his oldest living son, she’d heard—was gone. She thought of what might be happening to him, and felt cold again.
Shortly after dark that night, Stammel told Paks to report to the Duke’s tent. When she had found her way across the darkened camp to his tent, she found the Duke and the captains and several other soldiers. She had just greeted them when three more soldiers came in.
“That should do it,” said the Duke. “Now—I have a very dangerous and difficult mission for you. If any of you are not fit—if you think you’re coming down with a fever, or a wound’s bothering you—or if you don’t want to risk yourself away from the Company—tell me now, and I’ll release you. You’ve all been recommended by your captains, both for bravery and woodscraft. But this is no ordinary soldiering I’m asking of you; I want only those who are willing.” Paks thought of what he might want them to do. Sneak into Siniava’s camp and kill him? One of the others sneezed explosively. “Now that,” said the Duke, “is what we can’t have—you may be excused.”
“But my lord,” said the man. “This just come on since we ate—I can pinch my nose. I wouldn’t make that noise, my lord; I know I wouldn’t.”
The Duke smiled. “I know you’d try not to—but you can’t pinch your nose if you’re carrying something. This is too important to chance it. Go on, now. I don’t think the worse of you.” The man looked at his captain, Dorrin, who nodded toward the entrance. He shuffled out, shamefaced. The Duke glanced around. “I take it the rest of you are willing?” They nodded. “Good. Some of you may have guessed that the Halveric’s eldest son has disappeared. We are fairly sure he was captured. I think they will not kill him at once; he’s too valuable as a prisoner.” Paks felt a thrill; the Duke must be planning to get him out. She could not imagine how they could get into Siniava’s camp, find the Halveric, and escape, but it was a worthy endeavor.
“You will not be going into Siniava’s camp yourselves,” said the Duke, breaking into her thoughts. “We have agents who can move there openly. You don’t need to know about that, but they are trying to find and free Cal—the captain—and move him out of camp. If he’s already dead, they’ll bring his body out. You’ll meet them beside the river, on the far side, and bring him back; they cannot be seen near us. Now—several of you can handle a boat, right?”
“Yes, my lord.” Tam and Amisi from Cracolnya’s cohort, and Piter from Arcolin’s stepped forward.
“Good. The rest of you, listen to these three when it comes to crossing the river. Come and look at this map.” They all gathered around the map table. “Here we are,” said the Duke. “Take this lane, west of camp, then look for a big stone barn. Cut across here—there’s an orchard and two fields—and you’ll come to the river. There’s a big willow with a limb hanging out over the water—the only tree that size for a half-mile along here, so you should find it even in the dark. There’ll be a boat there, big enough for you and Cal. Across the river is a stone ledge, three men high. Upstream of that is where you’ll wait for them to bring him. Remember that sound carries more over water than on land. Whatever you do, don’t separate. They’ll cut you up if you do, and you’re more likely to be captured. The password on the far side, to the men who’ll be bringing Cal, is a question: Where lies Havensford? Their answer
