A Time of Omens. Katharine Kerr

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      ‘We’ve got to get out of here today, Nevyn. Been lucky so far, but I’ll wager the town warden and his men are going to be coming around soon, asking questions about that brawl last night.’

      ‘I had the same thought myself. Hum. I think I know where I can find us a hire. Since I’m a merchant now, I’d best go pay my respects to my new god, hadn’t I? I’ll be down at the temple of Nwdd if you need me.’

      When the old man returned, not more than an hour later, he brought two merchants with him and prosperous ones from the look of the fine wool in their checked brigga and cloaks. Stout men in their thirties, the pair stood uncertainly near the door of the inn chamber as Nevyn introduced them round as Budyc and Wffyn.

      ‘We might have a hire for you, captain.’ Budyc stroked his dark moustaches with a nervous hand. ‘The jewel merchant here swears you’re reliable.’

      ‘More than most, anyway,’ Caradoc said. ‘And every one of my lads can fight like a fiend from hell. I’ll swear it on Gamyl’s altar if you want.’

      The merchants exchanged speculative glances.

      ‘They’ll have to do,’ Wffyn said. ‘This time of year, it’s a stroke of luck to find a free troop that isn’t pledged to a lord already.’

      Budyc shrugged in nervous agreement.

      ‘Very well, captain. Name your price.’

      ‘A silver piece a man on contract, then one a week, two if we see fighting, and you pay full wages for every man killed.’

      Again the two looked back and forth, and again Budyc shrugged.

      ‘Done. It’s fair, and there’s no time to haggle. Leave the city gates as soon as you can, captain. I’ll meet you on the south-running road.’

      ‘Where are we going?’

      ‘I’ll tell you after we’re well clear of Dun Trebyc.’ Budyc allowed himself a scant smile. ‘This town is full of ears.’

      After a solemn handshake all round, the merchants left. Maddyn and Caradoc turned on Nevyn the moment the door swung shut.

      ‘I can’t tell you one blasted thing.’ Nevyn held up both hands flat in protest. ‘All I know is that they’re Cerrmor men going south, and that they’re both rich and reliable.’

      ‘Well, that should be enough, truly.’ Caradoc paused, thinking hard while he rubbed his chin with one hand. ‘Maddyn, make sure our young lad rides in the middle of the pack on the morrow, will you?’

      ‘I will. I might detail Aethan and Branoic to keep an eye on him – personally, like. Give them a chance to redeem themselves.’

      ‘Good idea. Carry it out.’ The captain glanced Nevyn’s way. ‘I was thinking of putting him between me and Owaen, but that’d look too suspicious.’

      ‘I agree. By the way, captain, I heard all sorts of news down at the temple. I must say that the merchant guilds do themselves proud when it comes to hearing what there is to hear. The Cantrae king seems to be planning a major offensive on the eastern side of the border – round Buccbrael, the rumours say. He’s been stripping the west of men for some big march, anyway.’

      ‘Splendid, if it’s true. Let’s pray it is.’

      ‘Provided he doesn’t strike at Cerrmor before we get there. The extreme west has always been Cerrmor’s weakest point, and it’s doubtless worse now that the Wolf Clan’s had to surrender their lands and go into exile.’

      ‘Uh, you know,’ Caradoc said. ‘The border’s held a long time without the Wolves on it. They went into exile – oh, at least twenty years ago.’

      ‘Has it been that long? When you get to be my age, it’s so easy to lose track of time.’

      Just before noon, the silver daggers left Dun Trebyc under a sky striped with scattered clouds that had everyone groaning at the thought of more rain, but it held off till they met their hire. About two miles down the road Budyc was waiting on a splendid roan gelding. When Caradoc slowed the troop, Maddyn fell back beside Nevyn, and the merchant trotted over and took the place beside the captain.

      ‘We’ll be continuing south till mid-afternoon,’ Budyc said. ‘Then heading west for a-ways. Not far, though.’

      ‘How about telling us somewhat about this hire?’

      ‘Not yet.’ Budyc rose in the stirrups and looked round the flat view as if scanning for enemies. ‘Still too soon. Tonight, captain. Everything will come clear tonight.’

      When Maddyn shot Nevyn a nervous glance, the old man merely smiled and shrugged, as if telling him to rest easy in his mind. If it weren’t for the prince, Maddyn might have, but as it was, he kept turning in the saddle and glancing back at Maryn. Since the road here was wide, the troop was riding four abreast, and Maryn was in the second file with Branoic on one side of him, Aethan the other, and Albyn just beyond Aethan – a formidable set of guards by anyone’s standards. No doubt the young prince could swing a sword himself if he had to – he’d certainly had the best teachers that warlike Pyrdon could offer – but all that sunny afternoon Maddyn kept brooding on the painful difference between swordcraft on the practice ground and swordcraft in a scrap. Sooner or later Maryn would have to blood his blade, of course; Maddyn merely prayed with all his heart that it would be later.

      A couple of hours before sunset the silver daggers came to a trail that led west off the main road, and Budyc pointed it out to Caradoc with a wave. Yelling orders, Owaen rode down the line and sorted the troop out into single file, with Maryn between Branoic and Aethan about half-way along. Although Maddyn was less than pleased with this vulnerable arrangement, the countryside around was certainly peaceful enough. As they jingled their way along they saw two farmsteads, one herd of cows, and naught else but field after field of cabbages and turnips sprouting under the watchful eyes of crow-chasing small girls. At last, just when the sun was so low in the sky that everyone in the troop was squinting and cursing, they came to a deep-running stream, bordered by willows and hazels. Standing beside his black horse Wffyn the merchant was waiting for them, and through a clearing in the trees Maddyn could see what seemed to be a canal-barge tethered to the bank.

      ‘There you are!’ Wffyn sang out. ‘Good! First shipment just pulled in.’

      As Budyc trotted forward to meet him, it dawned on Maddyn that these men were smugglers of some sort, a suspicion that was confirmed later that evening after the silver daggers had made camp. Along with Owaen, Maddyn followed Caradoc upstream to confer with the merchants on the morrow’s route and found a line of four barges being loaded from a parade of wagons. Stripped to the waist and sweating in the torchlight, Budyc and Wffyn were bounding from barge to shore and back again as they gave orders to the crew or even lent a hand themselves to haul the cargo on board.

      ‘Those look like ale-barrels,’ Owaen remarked. ‘But I never heard of ale that heavy. Look at those poor bastards sweat!’

      ‘Just so, and ale doesn’t clank, either – it sloshes.’

      ‘What in the three hells is going on?’ Caradoc muttered, somewhat waspishly. ‘And what?! Look at that lead barge!’

      The cattle-barge had slatted wooden sides, СКАЧАТЬ