Frays In The Weave 10 Departure: 2

Trindai de Laiden swore long and bitter oaths as he rode in pursuit of the vanguard together with a few of his men. Being reduced to an armed guest was bad enough for the imperial colonel, but the city council of Belgera had acted in accordance with the fears he'd harboured on his way here close to a season earlier. They were all too happy to send out an army to punish the khraga for their part in almost killing a taleweaver. It wouldn't stop there. It never did. By now the Council of Twelve were sure to know about the incident, one they couldn't idly accept, and Trindai knew his superior, Mairild de Felder, well enough to understand what would happen later. Ramdar Garak, her counterpart from Khi would for once get all information he wanted for free, and so the two spy masters would set things into motion, like rings on water. Trindai painted a mental picture of troops from all over the world converging on Gaz for a final confrontation to end, once and for all, what had not been truly finished seven centuries earlier. Too many golden still living with memories and hatreds alive in their minds, memories for them -- a vaguely understood legend to humans. World War all over again.

Trindai spat in disgust. Demoted to colonel because he couldn't stand spending the rest of his active years behind a desk and in pointless meetings with greedy power mongers, yes he could accept that. Demoted for lack of understanding—never! Had he truly been as guileless as some thought he would still be a general. Political machinations were not a job for a man and he was too old now to allow his clear sightedness to turn into cynicism. He hadn't come this far only to spend his waning years as a hateful man.

The smells of early spring lost their l.u.s.tre to him, and not even the wind carrying a faint promise of warmer days to come could fully vanquish his fears. It mattered little. He had a caravan to bring safely back to Keen, and after tomorrow, when the army turned east in their pursuit of revenge, he'd be in sole command of the escort. Trindai pushed his horse harder and listened to the smattering of hooves as he put stretch after stretch of wet earth behind him. Now, for the first time, did he truly regret the ease with which he'd promised how eagerly Keen would join the quest of justice that faraway day when they learned what had befallen Arthur Wallman.

#

There it was again, a sweet scent carried by a gust of wind warmer than any she'd felt since they climbed the mountain pa.s.s. It caressed her with its promise of spring, more so than the bare splotches of dirt visible in the melting snow. Promises of greenery but also of just revenge brought by Braka to the khraga now when the icy hand of winter no longer gave the advantage to the hairy giants.

Nakora Weinak sighed with pleasure washing away the last of the disappointment she harboured knowing she'd be no part of the campaign launched at the khraga. Two days earlier the regiments had turned to the east and a full hundred of the wagons followed them, and all of the great gherin were with the troops.

It would have been good to teach the khragan monsters some fear, but she had a mission bringing the caravan back safely. She looked over her troops, or what was left of them. Safety could be dangerous. They had reasons to know that. After enduring the perils of coming to Belgera she'd been relieved enough to let her guard down, and close to half of her men died within the protection of the city walls as a result when the outworlder Christina Ulfsdotir let her thugs loose on the streets.

Nakora shrugged the memories away. Against outworlder weapons there wasn't much you could do, and now they were bolstered not only by twenty hors.e.m.e.n from Braka but also by seven outworlders in their hissing contraptions. Gring had told her they were the outworlder version of Colonel de Laiden's elite forces.

Taking the reins in both of her hands Nakora pulled her horse to a stop. She was closing to Madame Termend's tavern on wheels. A few merchants were already walking alongside it, but then some always were.

"Captain Weinak, join us!" one of them greeted her.

Nakora smiled at him. From Erkateren, and the jovial magecrafter, temporarily turned trader, had his wife at his side. In all honesty she handled most of their bartering. "I will, just let me tie my horse first," Nakora answered as she dismounted. She liked the couple. The people from Erkateren never frowned at her for being a military commander, not at all like her own.

Nakora tied her horse behind the wagon and returned to the patrons and their hostess. "What do you have to offer today?" she asked Lianin Termend.

"For ten copper shields you can have an ale, and for nine Brakish Grüba I could give you -- an ale," Lianin answered laughing. It had become a ritual of sorts, but early on their way here it had been cider offered, and later a sweet, cloudy beer the until recently nomadic people on the Sea of Gra.s.s favoured

"Lianin, when we come back home again," Nakora said, breaking the tradition of non-committal chat, "what are you going to do?"

Lianin peered out from the darkness of her wagon. "If Master de Garak sets up a new caravan I'll return with it." She turned and vanished back beneath the tarpaulin covering the wagon. "An ale?" her muddled voice asked, and Nakora could hear her already filling a mug.

"Yes, thank you," Nakora answered. "And Chaijrild?" she asked, but her thoughts were far away. Harbend, where did you go? Are you safe? "Will she come with you?" Nakora continued in a cheerful tone that didn't fully match the worries dancing in her mind.

"I'd think so," Lianin responded handing Nakora a mug of dark ale. "Shields or Grüba? Well you never know with the young."

"Shields, we were paid in advance." Nakora handed Lianin the coins.

Lianin lifted an eyebrow and shot Nakora a curious glance. "A season in advance?"

The icy wind that crept inside Nakora's clothes wasn't what chilled her. They hadn't been paid for the entire trek back. She was already paying her men with the advance money for those who had died in Belgera, and within an eightday it was time again. Two eightdays pay and most of it would come from her own private funds. G.o.ds! Harbend, where are you? I need you! "No, but there is enough to last until we can get it sorted out," she lied.

"Ah, good news. I wouldn't want to end up on the Sea of Gra.s.s with a grumpy escort." The relief in Lianin's voice was all too clear.

Nakora gulped down the ale and went for her horse. Mounted again she threw her thanks to Lianin and another lie about lack of time to spend with the tavern. There wasn't much to do, but talking about payment to the troops made her more than just a little bit uneasy. Payment two eightdays in advance was the norm. Harbend had trusted her enough to give her funds for a full four eightdays, but the last time had been just after they reached Belgera and if she couldn't convince the three merchants commanding the caravan in his absence there would be problems all too soon.

She threw her horse into a brisk canter and rode for the rear-guard. Riding was freedom, had been since childhood, and she needed something to bring back the satisfaction come from that warm gust of spring she smelled earlier.