Страница 12 из 64
The shield was round and two feet in diameter. A wood core was sandwiched between layers of sheet metal and leather, with scores of rivets holding the whole thing together and adding their own measure of protection. In the center there was a raised boss with a six-inch spike protruding. That shield was meant as much for offense as defense. I slipped my arm through the one loop on the back and gripped the wooden handle. It was heavy, but it felt good.
"I hope I can hang this thing on the horse when I don't need it," I said. The armorer assured me that the saddle had provision for the shield.
"How about food?" I asked. "I don't recall anyone mentioning food."
"Taken care of, Highness," Lesh said. "I've been on a campaign or two. I saw to it myself."
"And here's the map you wanted," Kardeen said, taking a bulky scroll from his clerk. I untied the leather thong and unrolled the scroll, an eighteen-by-thirty-six-inch sheet of parchment. For a rush job, it looked damn good. Roads, towns, villages, castles, and streams were marked for all of Varay and the nearer portions of Dorthin and the Isthmus of Xayber; mountains in the south, sea and isthmus in the north. There was even a large forested area north of the route to Castle Thyme marked with the warning "Here there be dragons." What more could I ask for?
"Admirable work," I said, smiling at the clerk. He smiled back and bowed.
We went out to the horses. Walking in chain mail, with the shield and everything else, was something like wading through Jell-O. I'd have to shed some of the weight if I wanted to accomplish anything. Putting my pack in a saddlebag was a start. Hanging my shield from the skirt of the saddle was even better. I got light enough to mount without help.
The horses were a mixed lot. I had a decent-looking stallion the size of a Clydesdale. Lesh's charger might have been the sire of mine. It looked old, but still fit. Timon's pony looked like a runt even without comparing it to the big animals. And Parthet-well, someone had dug up an old swaybacked nag that looked as if it came from a Three Stooges short. Someone had a sick sense of humor, I thought-putting a hunchback on a sway-back.
"She's a fine animal," Parthet said as I was about to blow some steam. It was almost as if he had read my mind. "I've ridden Glory here before, lad. We're comfortable with each other.
I still needed a moment to cool off. "Then I guess we're ready," I said. I hadn't done any riding since the previous summer, but I didn't expect that I would have any difficulty. I learned how to ride a horse before I got my first tricycle. We all got mounted. I did manage to get aboard without help, even with all the extra weight.
"I wish you every luck," Baron Kardeen said, standing next to my horse-Gold-and holding the pommel of my saddle. "Your coming has meant a lot to His Majesty. Come back safely."
"I'll try. Thanks for your help."
Kardeen bowed and backed off. I nodded-regally, I hoped-and clicked at my horse. Gold started up and I aimed him at the gate. Parthet moved into place at my left, about two feet below me on his smaller horse. Lesh and Timon got into line behind us.
I didn't look back.
5 – Precarra
Castle Basil was located on a prominence that looked remarkably like the Rock of Gibraltar in the insurance commercials. The rock was stained by water and waste that had dripped from the castle over the ages. There was only one road into or out of the castle. It wound back and forth through a series of wicked switchbacks down a steep slope to Basil Town. The town was more a village, maybe three hundred buildings-homes, shops, and whatnot. According to Parthet, there were two good i
Basil Town was aromatic, but it didn't smell like the herb. Smell? Stench. I guess all towns must have smelled like that before indoor plumbing and municipal sewage works. At least no one emptied a chamber pot into the street while we rode through.
People stared openly at us as we passed. Craftsmen worked in their open-front shops and directed apprentices. I saw a cooper assembling a barrel, a miller hauling flour bags to a small cart that was hitched to two dogs who didn't look far removed from their lupine ancestry. There were women sweeping out their homes, a lot of them. They might almost have had a union schedule that said, "Sweep the dirt out the front door at such and such a time."
We passed one of the pubs, stared at it with longing, but didn't stop. Maybe we could have afforded time for a single drink, but I didn't know how we would pay. I didn't have any local currency, and I didn't expect that Parthet did. I couldn't impose on Lesh or the boy, even assuming that one or the other might have a coin or two.
A few minutes after we passed the pub, our horses clomped across a rickety wooden bridge over the Tarn into the Forest of Precarra. The bridge shimmied and shuddered as if ready to fall into the river, but none of my companions showed the slightest apprehension about using it, so I kept my worries to myself. The river wasn't much of a stream, about forty feet wide and shallow. But the bank was steep and high on the town side.
The transition from town to forest was abrupt. There were only a few small farms on the east side of the river. Most of the Basiliers' farms lay west of town, according to Parthet. We crossed the narrow strip of cleared fields and entered the forest.
"Precarra covers about a fifth of the kingdom," Parthet said, "from the southwest corner to the middle of our border with Dorthin-a rough horn shape with the bell flat against the Titans and the mouthpiece sticking into the Etevar's domain. Southeast of the forest the land is wrinkled with foothills and long valleys. It's an area for sheep, cattle, and grapes, but mostly it's left to wilderness. There are some evil places there. Northwest of Precarra is where most of our farmland is, and a few fishing villages along the Mist. Then there's Battle Forest toward the isthmus, north and northeast of here. Few Varayans live in that quarter."
Lesh snorted. "There are farms everywhere," he said. "The forest isn't a blanket. There are gaps all around, some natural, more made by folks who need space to plant their beans and taters. Peasants can't wait for strangers to send them food from someplace else."
Our ride was no mad gallop. We let the horses stick to a fast walk most of the time, a gait that would allow them to keep going for the five or six days we might need to get to Thyme and back. During the hottest part of the first day, we stopped to rest the animals and get ourselves out of the sun for a few minutes every hour or so. We had a long way to go. When we talked, it wasn't about Castle Thyme or what might have happened to my parents. I couldn't fully accept the danger yet, not on a gut level. We talked about Varay and Fairy, and about ourselves. Mostly, I listened and let the others talk. I was the new kid on the block and I had a lot to learn.
"Tell me about yourself, Lesh," I said, early in the ride.
"What's to tell, lord? I'm a soldier. I've always been a soldier."
"Where were you raised? What was it like at home? Even a soldier has a history."
"I was born in County Gemma, somewhat south of Castle Thyme. My folks farmed a small clay patch. Of six children, only four of us made it out of the cradle. I worked on the farm until I was old enough to join the King's Guard. I've been a soldier ever since, nigh on thirty years. Like I said, what's to tell?"
I looked back at him: a bored face, uncomfortable talking about himself.