Страница 4 из 149
«A fishergirl?» he asked, in a kindly tone.
She nodded.
«Have you a name?» «Enough!» Cotillion growled. «She's not some mouse under your paw, Ammanas. Besides, I've chosen her and I will choose her name as well.»
Ammanas stepped back. «Pity,» he said again.
The girl raised imploring hands. «Please,» she begged Cotillion, «I've done nothing! My father's a poor man, but he'll pay you all he can. He needs me, and the twine-he's waiting right now!» She felt herself go wet between her legs and quickly sat down on the ground. «I've done nothing!» Shame rose through her and she put her hands in her lap.
«Please.»
«I've no choice any more, child,» Cotillion said. «After all, you know our names.»
«I've never heard them before!» the girl cried.
The man sighed. "With what's happening up the road right now, well, you'd be questioned. Unpleasantly. There are those who know our names.»
«You see, lass,» Ammanas added, suppressing a giggle, «we're not supposed to be here. There are names, and then there are names.» He swung to Cotillion and said, in a chilling voice, «Her father must be dealt with. My Hounds?»
«No,» Cotillion said. «He lives.»
«Then how?»
«I suspect,» Cotillion said, «greed will suffice, once the slate is wiped clean.» Sarcasm filled his next words. «I'm sure you can manage the sorcery in that, can't you?»
Ammanas giggled. «Beware of shadows bearing gifts.»
Cotillion faced the girl again. He lifted his arms out to the sides. The shadows that held his features in darkness now flowed out around his body.
Ammanas spoke, and to the girl his words seemed to come from a great distance. «She's ideal. The Empress could never track her down, could never even so much as guess.» He raised his voice. «It's not so bad a thing, lass, to be the pawn of a god.»
«Prod and pull,» the fishergirl said quickly.
Cotillion hesitated at her strange comment, then he shrugged. The shadows whirled out to engulf the girl. With their cold touch her mind fell away, down into darkness. Her last fleeting sensation was of the soft wax of the candle in her right hand, and how it seemed to well up between the fingers of her clenched fist.
The captain shifted in his saddle and glanced at the woman riding beside him. «We've closed the road on both sides, Adjunct. Moved the local traffic inland. So far, no word's leaked.» He wiped sweat from his brow and winced. The hot woollen cap beneath his helm had rubbed his forehead raw.
«Something wrong, Captain?»
He shook his head, squinting up the road. «Helmet's loose. Had more hair the last time I wore it.»
The Adjunct to the Empress did not reply.
The mid-morning sun made the road's white, dusty surface almost blinding. The captain felt sweat ru
It had been a long time since somebody's title had been enough to straighten him up. But this was the Adjunct to the Empress, Laseen's personal servant, an extension of her Imperial will. The last thing the captain wanted was to show his misery to this young, dangerous woman.
Up ahead the road began its long, winding ascent. A salty wind blew from their left, whistling through the newly budding trees lining that side of the road. By mid-afternoon, that wind would breathe hot as a baker's oven, carrying with it the stench of the mudflats. And the sun's heat would bring something else as well. The captain hoped to be back in Kan by then.
He tried not to think about the place they rode towards. Leave that to the Adjunct. In his years of service to the Empire, he'd seen enough to know when to shut everything down inside his skull. This was one of those times.
The Adjunct spoke. «You've been stationed here long, Captain?»
«Aye,» the man growled.
The woman waited, then asked, «How long?»
He hesitated. «Thirteen years, Adjunct.»
«You fought for the Emperor, then,» she said.
«Aye.»
«And survived the purge.»
The captain threw her a look. If she felt his gaze, she gave no indication.
Her eyes remained on the road ahead; she rolled easily in the saddle, the scabbarded longsword hitched high under her left arm-ready for mounted battle. Her hair was either cut short or drawn up under her helm, Her figure was lithe enough, the captain mused.
«Finished?» she asked. «I was asking about the purges commanded by Empress Laseen following her predecessor's untimely death.»
The captain gritted his teeth, ducked his chin to draw up the helm's strap-he hadn't had time to shave and the buckle was chafing. «Not everyone was killed, Adjunct. The people of Itko Kan aren't exactly excitable. None of those riots and mass executions that hit other parts of the Empire. We all just sat tight and waited.»
«I take it,» the Adjunct said, with a slight smile, «you're not noble-born, Captain.»
He grunted. «If I'd been noble-born, I wouldn't have survived, even here in Itko Kan. We both know that. Her orders were specific, and even the droll Kanese didn't dare disobey the Empress.» He scowled. «No, up through the ranks, Adjunct.»
«Your last engagement?»
«Wickan Plains.»
They rode on in silence for a time, passing the occasional soldier stationed on the road. Off to their left the trees fell away to ragged heather, and the sea beyond showed its white-capped expanse. The Adjunct spoke. «This area you've contained, how many of your guard have you deployed to patrol it?»
«Eleven hundred,» the captain replied.
Her head turned at this, her cool gaze tightening beneath the rim of her helm.
The captain studied her expression. «The carnage stretches half a league from the sea, Adjunct, and a quarter-league inland.»
The woman said nothing.
They approached the summit. A score of soldiers had gathered there, and others waited along the slope's rise. All had turned to watch them «Prepare yourself, Adjunct.»
The woman studied the faces lining the roadside. She knew these to be hardened men and women, veterans of the siege of Li Heng and the Wickan Wars out on the north plains. But something had been clawed into their eyes that had left them raw and exposed. They looked upon her with a yearning that she found disturbing, as if they hungered for answers. She fought the urge to speak to them as she passed, to offer whatever comforting words she could. Such gifts were not hers to give, however, nor had they ever been. In this she was much the same as the Empress.
From beyond the summit she heard the cries of gulls and crows, a sound that rose into a high-pitched roar as they reached the rise. Ignoring the soldiers on either side, the Adjunct moved her horse forward. The captain followed. They came to the crest and looked down. The road dipped here for perhaps a fifth of a league, climbing again at the far end to a promontory.
Thousands of gulls and crows covered the ground, spilling over into the ditches and among the low, rough heather and gorse. Beneath this churning sea of black and white the ground was a uniform red. Here and there rose the ribbed humps of horses, and from among the squalling birds came the glint of iron.
The captain reached up and unstrapped his helm. He lifted it slowly from his head, then set it down over his saddle horn. «Adjunct:»
«I am named Lorn,» the woman said softly.
«One hundred and seventy-five men and women. Two hundred and ten horses. The Nineteenth Regiment of the Itko Kanese Eighth Cavalry.»
The captain's throat tightened briefly. He looked at Lorn. «Dead.» His horse shied under him as it caught an updraught. He closed savagely on the reins and the animal stilled, nostrils wide and ears back, muscles trembling under him. The Adjunct's stallion made no move. «All had their weapons bared. All fought whatever enemy attacked them. But the dead are all ours.»