The man hesitated, then dropped his cudgel and knelt on the forest floor, hands over his head.
Relam grunted in satisfaction and started forward, Oreius closing in from the other side. The old warrior reached the bandit first and grabbed the studded cudgel, slinging it into the woods where it was well out of reach.
“That’s more like it,” he muttered. “Keep your hands where I can see them, scum.”
The bandit wisely complied without a word. Relam passed Oreius a length of rope, but stayed in the saddle and kept his sword ready, just in case.
Oreius tied the man’s hands in front of him, jerking on the rope a few times to make it extra tight. The bandit whimpered with pain but did not resist. Finally the old man grabbed the bandit by the shoulder and heaved him up and over his saddle so that he was laying across it, face down.
“Let’s deliver this one to the others,” Relam said, glancing back the way they had come. Fortunately, there was a fairly obvious trail of trampled vegetation to follow. And he could hear soldiers cheering in the distance.
Oreius led the way, Relam following behind, ready to react at a moment’s notice should the bandit try to escape. But the captured man seemed content to bounce along on the front of Oreius’ saddle like a sack of potatoes, grunting with pain every so often but for the most part staying quiet.
A few minutes later, they arrived back at the bandit camp. All of Relam’s soldiers had returned to the ground and were searching the tents for survivors. So far, only three had been found. They were sitting in the center of camp, hands and feet bound, menaced by five of the archers and a pair of swordsmen. The sergeants had taken over the central pavilion, taking inventory of everything the bandits had left behind.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” one was saying as Relam and Oreius rode up. “They must have slaughtered a dozen caravans in the last month alone!”
“It is impressive,” another agreed. “I’ve never seen so much wealth just piled up like this.”
As Relam dismounted, the officers finally took notice of him. “Sir!” one said, springing to attention. “We’ve taken the camp and await your orders, sir!”
“I can see that,” Relam replied drily. “Oreius, put our prisoner with the others please.”
The old warrior shoved the bandit out of the saddle, letting him fall with a thud that made Relam wince. “Oops,” Oreius said, unsmiling. “Sorry about that.”
The sergeants laughed and two stepped forward to drag the groaning and winded bandit to the place where the other survivors were being kept. Relam stepped forward to join their little circle, Oreius not far behind.
“What have we found so far?” he asked, curious.
“A small fortune in trade goods for one,” a sergeant immediately replied. “Plus a surprising amount of hard money.”
“How much?”
The sergeants moved aside and Relam caught his breath stunned. A glittering pile of silver and gold coins rested on a wide wooden table. A large chest, which had most likely held the wealth now scattered on the table, lay to one side.
“Search the men outside,” Relam said quietly, raking a hand through the coins. “Make sure they took nothing with them.”
“Yes, sir!” a sergeant replied, marching out of the tent immediately.
“That’s quite a bit of wealth for any group of bandits, no matter how many caravans they’ve raided,” Oreius observed, touching the coins with a gnarled forefinger.
“And I wouldn’t expect merchants to carry this much cash with them,” Relam continued. “Seems risky.”
“Where else would they have gotten it?” a sergeant asked.
“That’s what disturbs me most,” Oreius murmured, looking at Relam.
The prince wasn’t sure what Oreius meant by that. “Load everything up,” he said briskly. “We’ll take the lot back to Etares. Check around for places where the earth is turned up as well, in case they buried some of their loot for safekeeping.”
The sergeants murmured their assent and left the pavilion, while Relam and Oreius continued standing over the table, examining the pile of coins.
“Nobles,” Oreius said, picking one of the coins up. “The most common and least traceable of coins.”
“Yes,” Relam agreed, picking up the ironbound chest. “At least it can be used for good now.”
“What do you mean?”
Relam shrugged. “I rather thought that the benefits of this expedition might go towards helping clean up the capital. The west side in particular.”
Oreius folded his arms across his chest. “And just how do you plan to do that?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Relam replied. “But I’ll figure it out along the way.”
He began sweeping coins into the chest, holding it along the side of the table to catch the falling money. As he did, a slip of parchment was exposed, fluttering among the tumbling metal as it fell into the chest.
Instantly Oreius swooped on it, plucking the parchment from the mound of coins. Relam set the chest to one side and craned his neck trying to get a good look. “What is it?”
Oreius held it out for Relam to see. “A promise of payment. One thousand Sthan nobles for continued operation in the forestlands here.”
“They were being paid to raid caravans?”
“Looks that way.”
“By who?”
Oreius shrugged, dropping the parchment into Relam’s hands. “Doesn’t tell us that. There is no signature of any kind, no symbols.”
“Some sort of bandit overlord?” Relam wondered setting the parchment to one side. “Maybe he takes the trade goods and pays the fighters for their efforts?”
“Maybe,” Oreius said shrugging. “But there are an awful lot of trade goods lying around here.”
“They held the best back?”
“Possibly.” The old warrior raked a hand through his mane of hair, growling in frustration. “So many possibilities, and so few
