Inside, Gabriella was grinning. 'Now, if you came in here, you must have sins you want to confess…'
The border between the Anclas and Pontaine proper was the White Saw. A fast-flowing river bordered by high rock walls, its frothy peaks cutting a deep gorge on its journey westwards. The Imperial Highway was supported by several bridges west of Andon and a detachment of the Swords crossed the thundering river by means of the Dwarf Bridge.
A small tower stood at the Pontaine end of the bridge. Erak halted the column as a few bored guards, wearing the tabards of Andon's standing army, came out to examine their credentials. Like all the Pontaine city- states the Lord of Andon paid for a private army, rather than drawing troops from a central force as Vos cities did with Imperial troops. Though the troops guarding Andon's lands were simply called the Andon Militia in official documents, the region's people tended to refer to them as the Border Brawlers. Gabriella couldn't help smiling as she remembered that from her youth. She had been a child not far from here, before her parents sent her to safety in Vos during the war.
The Faith was keen to maintain as much a presence in Pontaine as it did in the Empire and, as far as Gabriella was concerned the service of the Lord of All ought to be above such petty things as nationhood and politics, though she had no illusions about the practical truth of that matter. The proportion of Faith devotees among the population in Pontaine was, according to the best efforts of Faith scribes, about half that in the Empire. She wondered whether the Border Brawlers would try to talk the Knights out of proceeding towards Andon, for the simple reason that the Swords had fought on behalf of Vos in the last war. It was before her time in the Order, but Gabriella knew that people tended to harbour deep feelings about such things.
After a few moments of chatting to the soldiers, Erak came back to join Gabriella and the others. 'You look happy,' he said. 'Stop it, you're frightening the guards.'
'I thought I had a nice smile.'
'They're simple men.'
'Is there another kind? Speaking of different kinds of men, did they say anything about Scarra's merry band?'
'They confirmed what the mercenary at Hallam's Creek said. They've offered to request a detachment of the Brawlers to be sent with us.'
Gabriella wasn't surprised, but didn't like the idea either. When even one group had bad feelings about another because of past incidents, there was too much risk of accidents or outright betrayals and she didn't want anything interfering with them getting to Scarra. 'My first instinct would be a polite refusal.'
'Mine too. It's not that I don't trust them not to warn him, but…'
'Neither do I. On the other hand, if we wanted to show a bit of solidarity down here it might make diplomacy a lot easier. Here's a thought: we could send Karlsen on ahead to the cathedral to deliver the messages we're carrying on to Archimandrite Marek. They could escort him. That way they get to do something, and we don't have to worry about them.'
Erak nodded. 'I'll see what they say.' He turned away and went back to the little fortress tower. Gabriella watched, half closing her eyes and enjoying the fresh air. Things were going well. The Lord of All was with her.
The next morning, Gabriella DeZantez held up a hand, halting the soldiers-at-arms as they moved in a skirmish line through a dry olive grove north of Andon. Gabriella reined in alongside Erak, Tanner, Oaks and Komo. Karlsen, the fourth knight who had been given to them, had continued on the Imperial Highway to Andon, accompanied by a detachment of Andon's Border Brawlers.
Neither of the Knights wore their helmets, and their mail coifs hung around their shoulders like unworn hoods.
'What do you think?' Oaks asked. He wore a neatly-trimmed red beard and had a copper-coloured mane. Komo, characteristically quiet, was a flat-faced but powerfully-built knight. Tanner was tall and looked too thin for his armour.
Erak squinted at the next rise across the olive grove. 'The estate begins just over there. If Scarra or his hired blades have any sense they'll have people watching the approaches.'
'If he had any sense he wouldn't be a member of a heretical sect.' Gabriella said disapprovingly.
'No, if he had enough sense he wouldn't be a member of a heretical sect,' Erak agreed. 'Then again, given his stupidity in returning home, I'm glad he's one of them rather than one of us. I always prefer it when we're competent and they're not.'
'Trust you to see a bright side.' She tried not to grin back; she was trying to be professional here. 'We'll have Scarra tonight, I'm sure.'
'I think so — ' Erak broke off at the sound of a snapping twig. 'There's someone over there!'
Gabriella was already riding towards the source of the sound. As her mount bore down on a pile of leaves and branches, they suddenly flew apart and a lanky boy was sprinting away, over the ridge. Gabriella cursed and kicked her horse into a gallop, but the boy ducked into the undergrowth and through a hole in a thick hedge that the horse couldn't go through. Gabriella looked for a way round, her heart pounding with urgency. By the time she found the end of the hedge, there was no sign of the boy.
She returned to Erak. 'We're screwed.'
'What?'
'Some kid saw us. He got away.'
'Then we have to assume Scarra now knows we're coming.'
'He's got mercenaries,' Gabriella reminded him. 'If we're lucky he'll stand and fight.' She hoped so, she didn't want to have to waste more time looking for him. Something told her he'd run though.
The estate comprised a large two-storey house at the centre of an olive grove at one end of a small town. Two streets of residences for the local farmers ran towards a ridge with a small church at the centre of a square. Scarra was ensconced in one of the town houses. That had been the mercenaries' idea. They all knew that the main house was the first place the Faith would look.
A boy in filthy homespun clothing ran in from the street and made straight for Scarra, in a cramped and dark living room. One of the mercenaries made to bat him away, but Scarra caught his wrist. 'The children of these villages are the Lord of All's eyes and ears.'
'That's what I was just thinking,' the mercenary captain, Sarkos, muttered. Scarra had hired the best protection he could find, albeit for half their usual fee now, and a dozen men in brigandine were posted around the house.
'What is it, boy?' Scarra said to the child.
'Soldiers, Master Scarra. Coming along Dead Tree Brook.'
'Secular, or religious?' Sarkos asked, suddenly all business.
Scarra was grateful for his alertness, but despaired at his gruffness with such a clearly terrified boy.
'Did they wear a symbol?' Scarra asked.
The boy nodded. 'A circle, with a cross through it.'
'The Swords. Makennon's private army. As if the true God would need anything so crude.'
Sarkos smiled lopsidedly. 'The true God can make do with a handful of hired blades?'
Scarra glared. 'He can if the hired blades are as good as their Captain says they are.' He turned back to the boy. 'How many soldiers?'
'Six Knights.'
'On horseback?'
'Yes. And almost ten times as many men on foot, with leather armour.'
Sarkos snatched up his broadsword and belt from a table. 'They outnumber us but we have more horses.'
'Have my mount saddled.' Scarra said.
'No.'
'I wasn't planning to come along.'
'I guessed that much,' Sarkos said, managing not to sneer too much. 'I'm saying don't try running, at least
