scrolls identical to the first.
“Is Markeen still outside?” he asked his man.
“Yes, sir,” Petar answered. “He’s out front with our horses.”
“Take these. Keep them hidden. One is to be ridden to Queen Willa in Xwarda. One is for Queen Rachel in Seaward. The other should be taken back to Dreen, to the High King, but by way of Tip, not by crossing back over the Pixie River this far south.” The commander stood and indicated which parchment went where.
“Go now, and put our men on the road immediately. Give them each an extra horse, and here,” he took out several silver coins from his pouch. “Give them each enough to eat and maintain their mounts. Tell them they must hurry, though. There’s about to be a shit storm in Weir. Once the riders are off, have all of our men meet me in the alley where the skeletons are being displayed.”
“Yes, sir,” Petar answered.
“Be careful,” Lyle said as the man left the office. He glanced down at Lord Vidian’s son lying unconscious on the floor and shook his head. Quickly, before he followed Petar out, he wrote a few paragraphs on another scroll and carried it visibly in his hand as he exited the building.
Even at this late hour there were a lot of people about. Almost all of them glanced at him as he passed. No doubt they had seen the captain tied up and bleeding as he was escorted to the local cell house, or at least they had heard the rumors. None of them could know why, but surely the gossipers had come up with a dozen reasons why he was there. Even as he and Markeen rode through the streets toward the alley, people gawked and pointed with unsure expressions on their faces. He hoped he could take the wagon cage and get out of town, but if he couldn’t, he wanted to make sure his three messengers got well away.
He wasn’t sure if what he had in mind was the right thing to do or not, but he was certain he had to follow his orders. He hoped that a disruptive confrontation with the crowd as they commandeered the wagon cart would distract this Lord Vidian’s men long enough. The lieutenant would be on his own, Lyle knew, and he didn’t like it. There would be severe repercussions for laughing while the fat captain’s life was in jeopardy. Lyle figured that once he and his men were gone, the captain would be released and would seek revenge. He tried not to worry about it for the moment. King Mikahl or Queen Willa would send someone to deal with the errant lord soon enough. Lyle had plenty on his platter with getting the skeleton cage into his possession and moving toward Valleya. It was dark, and the alley was even more crowded by the time he and his men got into position. He sent Markeen to buy some torches and was now giving orders as they were unbundled and passed out.
“Use your horses to force through the crowd,” the commander ordered. “Be sure not to trample anybody.”
“What about us?” one of the three men who had given up their horses to the messengers asked.
“Once we commandeer the wagon cage, you’ll drive it.” Commander Lyle pointed as he answered. “Two of you get crossbows and guard the driver until we’re clear of the city. Once we’re away we’ll figure something else out.”
“Is the fisherman going to put up a fight?” a man asked.
“I doubt he will, but there may be trouble from the city guard, so have your weapons ready.” Lyle took a breath and gave the order to light the torches. A moment later he forced his destrier into the crowd and began shouting out commands as if a dragon were about to attack.
“Get back!” he yelled. “Go home. Clear the way. By the order of the High King, move away from the cage!”
His men began repeating the commands, and in only a few short moments the people were shouting their outrage. The well-trained Valleyan war horses didn’t flinch; instead they began shouldering the people back is if they were in a battle. Most of the crowd figured out that they needed to get back, but few of them went very far. They wanted to see the confrontation that was surely about to take place.
“By order of the High King, get back, clear the way,” Lyle repeated.
“Go home, people. This is none of your concern,” Sergeant Tolbar added from not too far away.
“What’s all this about?” screamed a small, weathered-looking man from the flap of the pavilion tent. A few people in the dispersing crowd echoed the demand to know why they were being herded away from the spectacle.
“Are you the man who owns this wagon?” Commander Lyle asked over the murmurs of the people who remained.
“I am,” the old fisherman said with his chin held out. “What of it? You got no right to stop me displaying my catch.”
“By order of the High King you are to pack up and turn your wagon cage over to us.” Commander Lyle shrugged at the man sympathetically. “King Mikahl wants to see these skeletons firsthand, and truthfully, so do I.”
“You can see them for two coppers a man. The High King can afford to pay me, too.” The fisherman made a face. “I was only charging a copper, but the Lord of Weir put a tax on me.” Saying this seemed to remind the fisherman of something. He took up a defensive posture in front of the pavilion flap beside a huge man holding a double-bladed axe. “What right does the High King have to interfere with a free man and his honest business?”
Commander Lyle looked at the axe man. One of Lord Vidian’s employees? Probably posted there to make sure the fisherman didn’t stiff them on the tax. He shook his head. “You are advertising that one of the skeletons is King Glendar. Is that correct?”
“It’s true,” the fisherman said with his hands on his hips. “Look behind you. You are costing me and the Lord of Weir our wages. Now be off.”
“I don’t care who we’re costing money,” Lyle said. “If the mighty Lord of Weir needs these hundred coppers so badly, then he needs to find better advisors. A hundred coppers wouldn’t feed the captain of the city guard for a day.” Lyle swung down off his horse and drew his sword. With a few confident strides he took up a challenging position in front of the axe man, who moved to defend himself.
“King Glendar was the High King’s half-brother, you buffoon,” Lyle informed them with wild, battle-eager eyes. “The man has every right to keep you from displaying his royal family as if they were a bearded lady or a three-legged elf. If you don’t want your skeleton lying among the others in that cage, step aside now.”
For a few intense seconds Sergeant Tolbar thought he would have to loose his crossbow on the man with the axe, maybe even the fisherman, but a commanding voice from above them broke into the power of the moment.
“There’s no need for any of that, Commander. Give me the report you wrote for the High King and I’ll order the wagon into your custody.”
“No tricks?” Commander Lyle asked with an inward grin of relief.
Lord Vidian didn’t seem to be all that much. An imposing figure to the common folk maybe; he was well built, with long, silver-gray hair. He had intense eyes and a calm, controlling demeanor. He wore a plush suede cloak over his silk blouse and kidskin pants.
“I’m only here for the cage and the contents,” Lyle said a little nervously. “The rest of it is none of my business.” He took the scroll he had carried out of the office, held it up and lit it with a torch. It burned away in his hand.
From above, Lord Vidian nodded to his men that a deal had been struck. It didn’t take long to clear the grounds after that. The fisherman looked sullen, especially when Commander Lyle and his men began ogling the unnerving sight in his cage.
The skeletons turned their eyeless heads as if they could somehow observe what was going on. They didn’t seem pleased to be there, but they didn’t look to have the strength to escape.
“We heard there were three of them now,” Lyle said as he flinched away from a grasping, bony hand. Inside the cage, yellowed teeth clacked together.
“Don’t know nothing ’bout more than these two,” the fisherman replied a little too quickly, and gave a fearful glance at his wagon.
Commander Lyle was sure he was lying, but only sighed and ordered his men to prepare to roll out. His orders were to get the cage and the two skeletons in it. He would amend his report to warn of the third skeleton they had heard about. He felt lucky to accomplish what he had without getting himself or his men killed.
Around midnight they, along with the fisherman and his wagon, were moving north out of Weir’s city gate. The ferry didn’t run in darkness, and the commander wanted to be away from the inhospitable city as quickly as
