Chel awoke to the barking of dogs in the yard, the cries of gulls over the rustle of the wind through the grove, and the pounding of a battering ram against the front of his skull. He found himself face-down in bitter drool on a pallet, stripped to his underclothes and covered with a rough blanket. His clothes and a pitcher of water lay beside the pallet, and jovial voices drifted in through the open shutters.
He dressed and struggled into the courtyard, pulling the blanket tight around his aching shoulders to find the stockade swathed in mist. Cooking smells wafted from a glimmer of fire close to the stables, along with familiar chatter.
‘Would you rather be an eagle with no wings, or a fangless snake?’
‘Hmm. The snake. At least if you kept your mouth shut, no one would know you were harmless. Hoy there, friend!’ Foss grinned at him over the sizzling iron. ‘You look as good as the orange one smells.’
‘Piss off, Fossy, smell better than you raising a sweat.’
Lemon and Foss huddled over the cooking fire. Whisper sat to one side, running a sharp-stone over the edges of a frightening array of knives and bladed weaponry. She gave him a nod of acknowledgement.
Chel rubbed at his temples. He wished he’d brought the water with him. ‘No formal dining room this morning?’
Lemon barked with laughter. ‘Aye, right. No chance, chum – think we ran our hospitality dry when the household folk turfed us into bed in the wee hours.’
Foss’s grin subsided. ‘They might have left us there if you hadn’t started singing.’
‘Ah, balls to ’em, those kids woke themselves up. Who doesn’t love a sing-song?’
‘You weren’t singing “The Ballad of the White Widow” then?’
Foss and Lemon stiffened, their smiles vanished.
‘What’s the problem with that song? Why doesn’t Rennic like it?’
Foss’s eyes were serious. ‘He’s never said why. But if one of the company has an issue with a thing, then all in the company do. That’s how it works, my friend.’ His smile returned. ‘Now! Enjoy some mystery trail-meat with us, care of our hosts. Then, if you wish, we can go through your exercises together.’
Chel lowered himself down beside them, feeling every ache of weeks on foot, and took a grateful bite of Foss’s offering. ‘Everyone else up? I can’t be the only one feeling like the back end of a dog.’
Whisper smirked, indicating Lemon with a twirl of the sharp-stone. Lemon blew hair from her eyes. ‘Aye, right, fine, maybe I’ve lost one breakfast already today. I’m on the mend, though.’
Foss flipped another slab of the mystery meat on the iron. ‘Our good company has survived the night, indeed. The boss is off with Lady Palo, Spider at his back no doubt.’
‘Loveless?’
Foss blinked, then nodded past his shoulder. ‘You walked past her, friend.’
Chel turned, finding the mist thinned behind him. Loveless was ten paces away, out in the courtyard, arcing through forms with her scabbarded blade in hand. She moved in silence, pivoting and stretching with poise and precision. Chel recognized a couple of the positions, but her movements between them were so fast and fluid and controlled that the whole practice seemed wholly alien.
Lemon grunted. ‘Bit bloody keen if you ask me. I’m sure the boss didn’t mean dawn dawn.’
Chel watched, entranced, bobbing his head as nuggets of mist drifted between them. ‘She moves like a dancer.’
‘Like that’s any bleeding surprise.’
‘What do you mean?’
Lemon gave him an even look. ‘Are you yanking my plank? You’re as bad as Prince Dick-head.’
‘Hey, wh— Wait, where is the prince?’
The mercenaries exchanged a look. ‘Lady Palo took him,’ Foss said.
‘Took him where?’
‘Down to the jetty, I think.’
‘The jetty? What’s there?’
Lemon gave him a considered look. ‘Boats?’
Chel was on his feet. ‘Why? What’s going to happen?’
Whisper’s hands moved in a calming gesture, followed by a short string of motions. It’s out of our hands. Foss nodded. ‘Our bit’s done now, friend. Your prince will be well looked after. Lady Palo has more honour than a sackful of lords and churchmen.’
‘She said she wanted to kill him!’
‘Yes. But she won’t.’
‘Which way is the jetty?’
Lemon stood up beside him. ‘Easy, wee bear. Listen, we’re down a man or two, and always looking to expand. Even the boss has said you’d be an, uh, adequate hire.’
Whisper gestured. He said more than that.
‘Aye, right, but point stands. You could kick along with us from here. No bugger would think any less of you, except maybe Dalim, and he’s a pox-riddled prick. You’ve already gone way farther than anyone else would.’
Chel’s jaw was set. ‘I swore an oath.’
Foss stood too. ‘So did we all, once upon a time.’
‘Which way is the fucking jetty?’
With a sigh, Foss pointed. ‘Mind the path, it’ll be a bastard if the mist clings.’
Chel was already racing away, the blanket left in the mud.
‘Didn’t even hesitate. I’m a bit offended by that,’ Lemon muttered.
‘Keep your wits!’ Foss called after him.
Lemon tossed a dismissive hand. ‘Too late for that, Fossy. Far, far too late.’
***
The steps were carved straight into the cliff-side, smooth with age, slick with cooled mist and streaked with gull-shit. Chel bounded down them as quickly as he dared, arms extended for balance, the pain in his shoulder dull but persistent. He heard Rennic’s voice rumble out of the mist as he approached the cliff’s foot, the only visible shapes before him a run of greasy timber and a looming dark pillar that might have been a mast.
‘What in hells? What about the rest?’
‘It’s exactly what you agreed with my comrade.’ Palo’s voice, steady, compassionate.
‘Yeah, for a sit-and-squint. We’ve brought you a fucking prince!’
‘And we’re beyond grateful. This is a turning point for our campaign.’
Chel slowed his pace, boots slipping on the last of the wide steps.
‘So, where’s the material aspect of your gratitude? I’ve half my gear in hock and a company that’s owed. We could have brought you nothing but a report of his death!’
‘I understand your company has dwindled. That should mean more to go around.’
‘That’s low—’
‘Please, Master Rennic, you know as well as any that we are neither kingdom nor church. Every copper must be accounted for. Can’t it be enough to know that, for once, you will be on the winning side?’
Chel crept along the jetty, the incessant crash of the waves around them covering the creaking of the boards beneath. Man-shapes materialized at the jetty’s end, Rennic’s bullish form looming and stiff.
‘I’m on no one’s side, Palo. What am I to tell my crew?’
‘Whatever you would have told them if you’d done the job you originally took. Perhaps they’d all still be with you, and you’d be less out of pocket. Who’s to say? We’re grateful for the windfall, but the coffers are empty.’
Rennic took a step forward. ‘Perhaps I’ll take my prince back, then. He’s bleated plenty about his worth in ransom.’
Chel heard a whimper from Rennic’s feet and realized with astonishment that Tarfel was crouched between them, wrapped in a cloak and shivering.
Palo’s head tilted. ‘Come, come. We both know there’s no ransom to be had. Tarfel Merimonsun of Vistirlar is dead, murdered by Norts at Denirnas. The kingdom mourns.’ She looked down at the huddled form at her feet. ‘Your value is not in ransom, young man. But rest assured, you remain valuable.’
Chel thought he heard a muffled ‘thank you’ from within the cloak.
‘Now, on your feet, please. The tide is slipping. My thanks again, Master Rennic, for your efforts and your sacrifice. You will be remembered, irrespective of “sides”. You have my word.’
‘Your word is shit to me, Palo – can I sell it? Burn it to stave off winter cold?’
Palo ignored him, turning with the risen Tarfel toward the gang of the narrow boat behind them. They were taking him aboard. Chel bounded forward.
‘Hoy! Wait!’
Those on the jetty turned. Something sprang from behind Palo, a lithe figure, and Chel skidded to a stop as the blade of Dalim’s glaive whipped up through the mist, halting inches from his chest.
Dalim curled his lip. His nose was still swollen, marring his easy looks. ‘Chel the Andriz. You’re in the wrong place.’
Chel looked beyond him, to Palo, as she stood with one foot on the gang.
‘Where are you taking him?’
He could make out her face now. Her expression was guarded, but not angry. Curious, perhaps, her gaze even. ‘Master Rennic, this is one of yours.’
Rennic strode over, slapping Dalim’s glaive aside, his voice a growl. ‘The rodent-rapist is right, boy, you’re in the wrong place.’
‘Lady Palo, where are you taking him?’
Palo hadn’t moved any further. ‘What concern is it of yours, Master Andriz?’
‘I’m sworn to him, Lady Palo. At his brother’s behest. I cannot leave him, nor allow harm to befall him. I’ll be coming too.’
One eyebrow raised, Palo turned her gaze to Rennic. The big man shot Chel an exasperated glare, then turned to meet her.
‘Interesting company you’re keeping, if you’ll forgive the pun,’ she said.
Rennic’s eyes narrowed in sardonic acknowledgement. ‘He’s new.’
‘Is he lying?’
‘No.’
She nodded to herself, then turned back to Chel. ‘I’m taking your liege to a safe place, away from assassins and prying eyes. We’re going to meet someone very special. And we’re going to change the tide of history.’
Chel stepped forward, away from Rennic, past the snarling Dalim.
‘Who? Who is your liege, Lady Palo?’
She offered him a sad smile. ‘We have no lieges, Master Andriz. Our oaths are sworn to duty, not people.’
‘That sounds confusing.’
‘We make it work.’
‘Then who is at the other end of the boat ride?’
She stood in silence for a moment, lips pursed, then nodded again. ‘You will have to see that for yourself.’
She waved him onward, then turned and escorted the shuffling prince up the gang and onto the boat. Rennic surged after her, shunting Chel aside.
‘Now wait one moment, that’s my thrice-damned prince! You’re going to take my prize, and the boy, and leave me here pissing in the mist? I don’t fucking think so.’
Palo turned her head as she steered Tarfel aboard. ‘You wish to join us, Master Rennic? I can’t promise you a sympathetic audience at our destination.’
Rennic spat into the churning grey waters. ‘More than I’ll get here. Hold fast while I gather the crew and some supplies.’
‘No time for that. We’re leaving with the tide, and the tide is impatient, Master Rennic. Come aboard now or not at all.’
Chel had already started back toward the steps. He and Rennic exchanged a glance, his uneasy, Rennic’s intent. ‘Fuck it then. Send a runner to tell them we’ll be back … When?’
Palo was ushering Dalim and his henchmen up the gang. ‘Before long. Now or never, Black Hawk Company.’
Rennic thumped his splintered staff against the pitted boards of the jetty. ‘You heard the lady, man-boy. Move your Andriz arse.’