just currently at a loss how to deal with it.'
'Then I suggest that you rest now, Sharyr. And when you are rested, see that you investigate what you have left in my sky. I will have my spell ready, with you or without you. Because when I pay my last respects to my dear friend Ranyl tomorrow night, I will have peace and not a horde of Wesmen vermin battering at my door.' Dystran smiled thinly and saw the fear in Sharyr's eyes. T trust I make myself clear.'
The village of Cuff was a setdement of probably fifty houses and farms nestled in a shallow and sheltered, tree-lined valley. Grazing
animals ranged free up and down its length, crops were sprouting through fertile earth. To look at Cuff, it was clear the Nightchild storms had hardly touched it. The scene before them was at odds with much of the rest of Balaia given war and so many displaced people.
While farmers worked their land and the odd fisherman netted the free-flowing river on which the village stood, others on horseback patrolled its borders and guarded the crests of the valley east and west. Two rough watchtowers had been built, visible at either end of the village, looking out north and south along its single track.
The Raven approached at an easy trot, the elves running beside them in the late afternoon sun. The ClawBound had disappeared. Hirad's guess was they were already downwind of all the livestock and horses. In the trees to the south, hunting.
'Times are hard and people are desperate,' said The Unknown. 'We'd be the same. Let's tread carefully, Raven.'
'What do you think about the guards? Mercenary or local?' asked Hirad.
'Soldiers,' said Rebraal. 'Well armed. Used to armour.'
'We probably know them,' said Hirad.
'That's not necessarily a good thing,' said The Unknown. 'Let's be prepared. Just don't look like you are.'
There was a price on The Raven's capture and return to Lystern or Dordover. Probably a very high price at that.
'I'll keep my hand just far enough from my sword to be of no use if there's trouble,' said Hirad.
'You know what I mean.'
Hirad smiled. He glanced meaningfully at the TaiGethen moving fluidly by him. Even without their faces painted, he found it hard to imagine them anything less than fully prepared. Readiness oozed from every pore.
They watched the mercenaries gather at the head of the village to meet them. It wasn't an overtly threatening gesture but a statement of intent nonetheless.
'There are seven. Four swordsmen split two and two on horses. Three behind. Two mages, one archer,' said Rebraal.
'Hirad, watch the right-hand side. Rebraal, Auum, look for others
joining. I'll watch left. Thraun, back me up, Darrick to Hirad. Denser, prepare HardShield, Erienne, SpellShield.'
The Unknown's words calmed them to focus. No one moved a muscle in response. No hand strayed towards a weapon yet they all had their targets. It was enough.
At twenty yards distance, a strong voice sounded out at them. In the fields and on the river, all action had ceased.
'Dismount and walk, strangers.'
A moment's hesitation.
'As he says,' said The Unknown. The Raven dismounted. His voice lowered to a mutter. 'Mark the far left, hand to his sword. Archer is loaded and tensed. No reaction, Raven. These are not our enemies. Yet.'
They slowed, the elves falling naturally into narrow order with them, sensing the threat they might otherwise pose. The Unknown brought them to a halt five yards from the first mercenary, who they took to be the leader.
'What would you have us do?' asked The Unknown.
'State your business.'
'Rooming and food for the night. Stabling for our horses and supplies for the journey in the morning. We have coin for all we need.'
The man in front looked them over slowly, appraising. He lingered over the elves. Hirad took the opportunity to weigh up the mercenaries. They appeared capable enough. Confident, at ease. Hirad raised his eyebrows. One of the mages was an elf. Echoes of the past.
'Food is short, costs are high,' said the mercenary leader. He was a large man, carrying a two-handed sword across his back.
The Unknown shrugged. 'We can cover your costs.'
The leader nodded. 'We'll see. Enter. Find rooms where you can though I would suggest Ferran's barns and house over there is your best bet. You'll pay in advance for everything. We don't appreciate late-night chases, if you understand me.'
'Perfectly,' said The Unknown. He relaxed his face. 'We're no threat to you. We are just passing.'
'See it stays that way. One more thing. You will not unsheathe swords in this village. We are a peaceful community.'
'But it hasn't always been that way, I take it?'
The leader shook his head, indicating his men move aside to let them through before he replied.
'A lot of refugees have passed this way from the mage lands, and before them we had them from as far east as Korina and as far south as Arlen.' He paused. 'Not all of them would take 'no' for an answer. That's why we're here now.'
The Raven led their horses into the village, angling for the indicated farm on its eastern edge. The elves followed them, their suspicion plain.
'What do you make of it?' asked Hirad.
'Well, they aren't faces I recognise,' said The Unknown. 'And they clearly don't know us, which is a blessing. I think we shouldn't get involved.'
'I don't know,' said Hirad. 'I don't like the set-up. Think about it. Mercenary teams are being paid very good money to fight for the colleges or side with baronial defence. This lot? How can they possibly earn enough from a place this size to make it worthwhile?'
'Ask the farmer, why don't you?' said Denser.
'I will. Let's get sorted out first though.'
There was precious little space but it served them well enough. Denser and Erienne had the one empty room in the farmhouse. Ferran spread it with straw and blankets. The rest of them were given shelter in the two barns, one for grain storage, the other part stables, part hayloft. It was serviceable though the price was ruinous.
The Raven plus Rebraal gathered around Ferran's prodigious kitchen table once the horses were unsaddled and Auum and his Tai had taken their leave. Not all of them had seats but there were enough places to rest and enjoy the thick vegetable stew and tough rye bread served by Ferran's daughter, a girl barely into her teenage years but with eyes that had already seen a long hard life.
Ferran was a humourless middle-aged man. His hands were cal-lused and split from many years working hard cold earth. His chest was a barrel and his eyes were deep set in a weathered face.
'Long journey, is it?' he ventured of his guests.
'Long enough,' conceded Darrick. The ex-General still managed to look neat despite their time on the road, his young face already clean of grime and his brown curls shaken free of dust.
Ferran nodded, apparently gleaning everything he needed from the General's brace of words. 'Well, it'll be a comfortable night. No trouble.' His eyes glinted. 'We're protected.'
'So we see,' said Hirad. He leaned forwards, arms resting on the table, hands clasped together in front of his bowl. 'Treat you well do they?'
'I'm begging your pardon?'
'You've bought their services,' Hirad explained. 'Are you getting what you expect?'
Ferran thought on the question, aware all eyes were upon him.
'They keep us alive,' he said. 'We'd been raided. Three times. They offered us protection for a
