Meran had come through for me. The white rod was given to recruiters, who could be commoners, by anyone with authority to raise troops. Some people might want to see it, but these things were fairly fast and loose. The fact that Sheo was a noble should be enough. Still, better safe than sorry.
Dressed and shaved before first watch, I wrapped the fairly good copy in cloth and crossed to Sheo's tent. I nudged his slave, who slept across the threshold, and indicated he should wake his master who soon came to the entrance.
“Tuck it away,” I whispered. “Only show it if you need to.”
He unwrapped the cloth enough to see what I had for him, then wrapped it tight and tucked it in his belt with a thoughtful nod.
“Good luck.”
I left him there and headed for the command tent. It was only the second time I had done so but it already felt like a habit. The camp was still and the early morning air was cool but not cold. I enjoyed the newish experience. There was hardly any movement. I could barely see the walls. There were no torches lit there; any such light would ruin the sentinels' night vision, which had been enhanced by the battle mages, one of them taking the duty each evening, wandering off and back again when the deed was done. Not for the first time, I thought that the battle mages had the best job in the camp. Hardly any duties and no responsibilities worth the mention. Their booty share was high, too.
The commander's tent was lit from within already and I was not the first to arrive. Gatren Orans, the commander's aide, was standing just inside the doorway. “Mistletoe,” he told me before I had to ask for the day's password. There was no guarantee that the command staff would arrive and leave at the same time so this was one of those small duties that devolved to the aide. Other than that he stayed close to the commander and watched what he did, sometimes asked why he did it, and ran such small chores as the commander saw fit to entrust him with.
Knowing the password meant that my purpose here was served, there would be no daily orders for me, no briefing on a special task. Still, I had to wait until Tulian acknowledged and then dismissed me. It rankled. He was my aunt's son, my cousin and only three or four years older than me. He finished what he was saying, nothing important, and dismissed the commander he'd been instructing. Then he acknowledged my presence with a nod and beckoned me forward, which was a surprise.
“You have spent too much time with the healers. If you are going to dine with the sorcerers spread yourself about a bit.”
Okay. Well that was a surprise, too. “Yes sir.”
“That's all.”
I saluted and left and thought about it on the way back. Who cared? They were my charges, and no more than that. My duties were to keep them happy and protect the battle mages on the battlefield, the healers having whole centuries intent on keeping them safe in their own self interest. The battle mages jealous of my attention to their rivals? No way. Probably no way. I'd spoken to them very briefly and they had spoken to me even more briefly. They had shown no indication that they were the least interested in me, and there was little reason why they should be, unless they were worried that I might do a sloppy job of protecting them if I didn't like them. It didn't wash. I reviewed the four in my mind, Tall and Fat and Old and their student, Thin. I didn't even know their names. I wondered if they knew mine. It was one more thing to mull over and leave semi-resolved. I'd prefer to have an answer that I could promptly forget about, but life is rarely that simple. Some things that happen you never understand.
I was still mulling it over while I gobbled down a bowl of porridge and supped a mug of tea. By the time I was done the camp was roused and we were off for another day of riding at walking pace and trotting when the soldiers were ordered to double-time. Anyone who wasn't fit now would be fit by the time we arrived. My body had not stopped protesting at the harsh treatment but I had tried to stop paying attention to it. I would toughen up soon enough – and Meran had appeared with ointment to rub into my legs, butt and back each night. Some nobles would have their slaves do it, some slaves would offer, and doubtless there were those who would make play of it. Meran had just tossed the jar onto my bed and left. Can't say I blame him. I tried to imagine how he would have responded if I'd ordered him to do the job for me and his imagined response made me laugh aloud. Kerral gave me a funny look which I affected not to notice. Still, the sudden laugh had unsettled even me. I didn't think I was under that much pressure but I had a nagging feeling that there were too many things going on that I didn't get. Sapphire's regular features and sharp blue eyes came unbidden to mind. The evening before he had brought my father's loans to my tent, guided by Meran who made it clear with his facial expression and shrug that Sapphire had insisted on delivering them in person. It was late. I had eaten and returned to my tent to find them there, waiting. They had followed me inside and Sapphire had placed the armor and weapons on my camp desk which was just up to taking the weight. I was put out by the lateness of the hour. It would have been more polite to visit earlier.
“Do you know the contents of the letter you delivered?”
He had turned his head and stared pointedly at Meran who had in turn looked to me for instruction, leaving my tent with clear reluctance as soon as I dismissed him.
“Well?”
“I was there when he wrote it.”
He was a freedman. He didn't have to be more than courteous. There were a few customs about these things. It would be normal for him to use the phrase “young master” as I was my fathers son and it acknowledged the fact that I had some authority over him in my father's name, that I was due a share of the deference and loyalty he owed my father. The fact that he didn't use it, even once, told me something.
“Did he have any verbal message for me?”
“Not that he entrusted to me.”
“Why are you traveling with the army?”
He held my gaze, neither arrogant nor defendant. “My Patron so instructed me.”
I didn't let my annoyance show. “What is your mission?”
“I am under instructions to discuss my mission with no one.”
“Then I have no need to speak with you further.”
“It was my understanding that your father intended that I travel with you,” he looked around the tent as though deciding where to sleep.
“That was not asked of me.”
He didn't respond.
“You are not going to tell me anything, are you?”
“Your father instructed me not to discuss my purpose with anyone.”
“Then get out.”
He had given a slight bow, and then, making his disapproval of my decision obvious, he had left.
I had called Meran in and told him to watch Sapphire and report anything unusual. Only then had I unpacked the weapons and armor and inspected them. They were good kit and I was content with them, but that didn't make up for my unease concerning Sapphire and I wished that my father had confided in me. So far as I knew our family had no interests in the north and no connections with any of the Gerrian tribes. It seemed unlikely that his mission was related to the imprisonment of Orelia's betrothed. That was not family business. Her family or his own family should take care of that. Why had she asked me? We had been betrothed once, but clearly that was very much a thing of the past. I was a little put out that she had chosen to ask me to help her, but also a little proud that she felt she could trust me. Clearly her family was doing nothing. Well, the two were not yet married, so her family had no obligation. But what were his family doing? She had told me, after I'd calmed down enough to ask, that he was Tahal Samant. The Samants were a noble enough family, but a series of reverses had left them small and no longer seriously wealthy. Still, they must be doing something to free their son. I wish I had thought to ask what, and why, if the matter was in his family's hands, she had felt the need to ask me for help?
The order came down the line to pick up the pace, the shout of the centurions of each cohort ringing out together to confirm the command, and I was forced to pay attention to my horse until she got the pace right and seemed happy enough to continue it without my attention. The day was wearing on and I had nothing much to do but worry and fret. How fast was Sheo traveling? Would he succeed in his purpose? How well would he do? What were the Samant family doing about their lost sheep? What was Sapphire's mission? I had no answers and it all just nagged at me. I have never much liked waiting. I resolved to write a letter to the Samant family head, who was
