Leof

WITH THISTLE UNDER him and seeming to have taken no hurt, Leof felt steadier, more competent. His clothes were mostly dry by now, which also helped. He followed the directions the horse detail had given him and found the road to Baluchston only ten minutes’ ride south. He swung onto it, joining the remnants of Thegan’s army, all of them looking bedraggled and quite a few still dazed.

Wherever he could as he passed, he identified sergeants and told them to organize the men into squads so that by sunset, as they approached the outskirts of the town and could see the Lake again on their left, he was at the head of a reasonably well-ordered force, although the men were marching slowly and showed the tell-tale signs of exhaustion, shuffling feet and hanging heads.

“Fire and food in camp,” he encouraged them and was as glad as they were to see the tents and campfires which marked their goal.

He coaxed a canter from Thistle and went ahead to alert the sergeants-at-arms who would be responsible for billeting the men. Several men hailed him boisterously as he entered camp, comrades from both Sendat and Cliffhold. He greeted them with a similar relief. Not all gone. Not all dead.

In fact, looking around he realized that the Lake had been remarkably merciful. There were far more men gathered here than he had expected. He had been stationed almost at the far end of the Lake, and his ragtag assortment of men were the last in. Although their numbers were much diminished, Leof reasoned that at least half the survivors were still on the other side of the Lake, the Cliff Domain side. If what he saw around him represented the other half, then they had not been as badly hurt as Hodge had suggested. Perhaps he and his men had, indeed, taken the worst beating.

He dismounted and handed Thistle’s reins to a young ostler with a nod of thanks.

“Where’s my lord?”

“In his tent,” the boy said. Leof was reminded for a moment of Broc, but put the thought aside. There were always casualties in battle.

He found Thegan’s tent easily enough. It was placed in the center of camp. It looked just as it always did on campaign, the brown canvas with gold ties at the corners both workmanlike and impressive, just like my lord Thegan. Leof hesitated at the door flap, then went through.

Thegan was seated at his map table, three of his officers behind him. Leof recognized them and was relieved to see them. They were older than he was, and sensible. He was sure they would see the folly of razing the town.

Thegan looked up as he entered and jumped to his feet.

“Leof!” He strode around the table and clasped Leof’s upper arms. “Gods be blessed!” He smiled with real pleasure and Leof smiled back, warmed and thankful in turn. This was the Thegan who had earned his loyalty.

Since that disastrous night when he had stopped Horst from shooting Bramble in the back, Thegan had been distant with him, particularly when he returned empty-handed after searching for her. He thrust down his guilt that he had in fact found her but let her go. That had been true disloyalty to his lord, and there was no arguing it away. He had wondered, uncomfortably, for weeks afterward, if he had acted merely to show her that he was not the killer for hire she thought. That her distrust of warlord’s men was unfounded. But he thought, bleakly, that it was more likely that he was just too soft to take a woman prisoner. Particularly Bramble, so wild and reckless. It would have wounded his heart to bind her hands and force her back to serve the warlord.

Well, if he couldn’t serve his lord by giving him Bramble, he would have to serve him some other way.

“My lord.”

“How many did you lose?”

“I think about half my squad,” Leof answered, sobered.

Thegan clicked his tongue and let go of his arms, moving back to the table and looking down at the map of the Lake that lay there.

“That’s the worst we’ve heard so far,” he said quietly.

“The wind was at our back, my lord,” Leof explained. “The Lake needed to make sure we were knocked out.”

Thegan looked at the other men, as though Leof’s words were significant.

“You think it was the Lake, then?”

“Well, of course… what else could it be?”

“The town wasn’t touched.” Thegan’s tone was grim.

“But, my lord, isn’t it known that the Baluchston people have an agreement with the Lake? That it leaves them alone?”

“We know that they, unlike everyone else who settled this Lake, live in safety. The Lake is dangerous, I grant you that. So is the sea, and the storm. But to plan and execute an attack like last night took intelligence, and I do not believe that the Lake has that. Anymore than the storm does.”

“Perhaps that is so,” Leof said slowly, wondering for the first time why he had assumed that the Lake was acting on its own behalf, without guidance. Was it just the voice he had heard, or was it all the stories that were told about the Lake, stretching back centuries? Stories about attacking forces befuddled, turned around in the middle of battle so that they were fighting their own side, or gone missing altogether only to turn up weeks later, swearing they had no memory of the time in between. Those stories were part of every child’s upbringing in the Domains, and so were stories about the mysterious Lake People, the only original inhabitants who had successfully resisted Acton’s forces. And still did.

“Why should it be the Baluchston people who planned it?” Leof said. “Why not the Lake People?”

“The Lake People are nothing but Travelers who do not travel,” Thegan said impatiently. “Do you think if they had power like that they would skulk in the reeds like water rats? Do you think they would let Baluchston stand and the ferries run across their precious Lake?” He shook his head. “No, if the Lake People controlled the Lake they would have taken it back from Baluchston long since. As they haven’t, the control must reside in Baluchston.”

“But what would they gain from attacking us?” Leof asked. He wasn’t convinced, but he knew Thegan in this mood. No argument would change his mind.

“They hope to maintain their freedom.”

“They have freedom. They’re a free town.”

Thegan looked at him, an amused twist at the end of his mouth. “They had freedom. They are clever enough to realize that if I hold both Central and Cliff Domains, and cleared the Lake, their freedom would mean very little.”

Leof paused. The other men were carefully not reacting to that statement. Now was not the time to argue for the continued liberty of the free towns. Towns outside the warlords’ control had always been a sore point with Thegan, despite the fact that Acton had established them himself to encourage trade between the Domains. Better to cut to the core of the debate.

“My lord, what if no one controls the Lake? What if it is intelligent?”

There was silence in the tent for a long moment. Thegan seemed to think about it, but Leof realized with a shock that he was only pretending.

“If it is intelligent,” he said eventually, “then it will be pleased that we are ridding it of Baluchston. If it is not, then we will destroy those who control it. Each and every one of them.”

Leof felt forced to protest. “What if it was only a few, or just one enchanter working on his own?”

Thegan did pause at that, then shrugged. “We’ll give them a chance to surrender the enchanter and swear their loyalty. If they don’t, we fire the town.”

But if there is no enchanter, if the Lake is intelligent, then you have just invented the perfect reason to destroy a free town, Leof thought. He felt colder than he had when he woke that morning. Because he didn’t know if Thegan really believed what he was saying, or if he had just seized the chance to take control of a free town without protest from the other warlords.

“Come, you look like you need some food and a sleep,” Thegan said to him, once again the commander concerned for his men. “The men need a rest, too. Tomorrow will be soon enough to march on Baluchston.”