‘If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it properly.’ Rennic stripped off his coat and draped it over a dangling branch, slapping his bare arms against the chill. His breath came in plumes as the last red light of the sun lit the new camp beside the soft river, its numbers already swelled with both regulars and Rau Rel partisans. Smoke from the cooking fires drifted across them.
Chel tried to stretch hours of mule-ride from his aching legs. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean I’m going to hurt you.’
‘What?’
‘You want to learn fast, right? Fast lessons are hard lessons, and none will come harder than this.’
Chel opened his mouth to say something about harder lessons, but something thumped into his chest and drove him backward into the mud. He sat up spluttering. ‘The fuck? I wasn’t ready!’
Rennic swept around him. ‘Think the red confessors will ask you if you’re ready? Get on your feet!’ He slammed his heel down and Chel scrambled backward, stumbling into a crouch. Already his shoulder throbbed.
‘Good. That’s lesson four. Keep your feet. Unless you’ve no alternative.’
‘Four? What about the others?’
Rennic tutted. ‘Hells, boy, you’re as bad as the Foss.’ He walked round in a slow circle, and Chel shuffled with him, no longer trusting the big man’s motives.
‘Here’s lesson one of fighting, then, although no doubt it’ll be wasted on you. Ready? Good boy. Lesson one: don’t fight.’
‘Come on—’
‘… unless you’ve no alternative.’
Chel wondered how much that phrase would punctuate Rennic’s teachings. He raised an eyebrow.
‘Never start a fight you can’t win. And if you know a fight is coming, and you can’t get away from it, you make thrice-damned sure it’s over before it starts, and you’re the one walking away.’
‘B—’
‘You hear me, boy? This isn’t a fucking game we’re talking about here. This is desperate people, scrapping for their lives. Unpredictable people, vicious people. You want to prance around with an antique knife on a stick, talk to that toss-pot Dalim. You want a shimmering dance of bladesmanship, I’m sure Loveless will be delighted to take you through the forms, if she can spare fifteen years to teach you. You stick with me, assuming you can, you learn to stay alive. If you’re lucky. Are you lucky, boy?’
Rennic was beside him, and suddenly his foot was in front of Chel’s legs, a beefy arm shunting him in the back and down into the mud once more. ‘There’s lesson three: keep your fucking eyes open, and know where everyone is, and where others might be. Stay alert!’
Chel pushed himself up, ready to protest, but instinct sent him rolling to one side as Rennic’s boot came smashing down again. ‘Better!’ came the cry as he bounced back to his feet a safe distance away.
He brushed the mud from his hands. ‘What’s lesson two?’
‘There’s no dignity in dying, no matter how nobly you do it. The most honourable warrior giving his life in sacrifice still shits his breeches the same as any peasant on a pitchfork.’
‘So …?’
‘So don’t die.’
‘Huh, Lemon said the same thing once.’
That drew a smirk from Rennic. ‘Who do you think she learned from?’ He crouched down and picked up a twig, then began to draw lines in the mud.
‘What I mean, little man, is that the ambush is your friend. Always ambush, always surprise, put them on the ground – remember lesson four? – and finish them. Never fight fair, never spare a killing blow, never consider for a moment that what’s on the other end of your blade is another living, thinking, dreaming, human being. Your enemy is your enemy, understand? You start playing the wondering game, someone will kill you.’
‘That’s … grim.’
‘That’s life, fuck-o. Deal with it or let it go.’
‘Huh. What’s lesson five, then?’
Rennic launched himself up from the ground and was on Chel before he could move out of the way. The big man’s massive bodyweight bore him to the ground, driving the air from his lungs, one bulging inked arm crushing his own limbs against him. The other held the muddy end of the twig to his throat.
‘Know your distances,’ Rennic said with a grin. He smelled of sweat, of mule and dust. He drew the twig over Chel’s throat, making the sound effect himself, then sat up on his knees, keeping Chel pinned beneath him.
‘And that, little man, was five lessons in one. Here ends the teaching. You’ve got a lot to think about.’
Chel sucked air into his bruised lungs. ‘That’s … horseshit. What about … techniques? What about, I don’t know, how to swing a sword, hold a shield, use a knife?’ He tried to sit up but Rennic’s thick thighs kept him prone.
‘Haven’t you been listening, boy? Learn the fucking lessons and you won’t need “techniques”. Just your fucking brain and the will to do what’s necessary.’ He chuckled. ‘Although a good knife saves time.’
‘God’s bollocks, boys, you’ve not been on the road that long, have you?’ Loveless’s tinkly laughter followed her voice along the river bank.
Rennic bounded to his feet, looking both self-conscious and pleased. Chel struggled up after him. ‘We’re not all any-port-in-a-storm-ers at this camp,’ the big man said, a grin splitting his black thicket of beard. ‘Unlike some.’
‘Oh, get fucked. Or was that the idea?’
They embraced, and Chel felt a forgotten but familiar surge of hot jealousy. He tried to look away, but his mind wouldn’t let him. Even so, he still couldn’t tell if their hug was amorous or amicable. When at last he tore his gaze away, he found himself staring at Lemon, who was dragging more sacks than usual behind her. Foss and Whisper followed, leading a pair of well-laden mules. Chel was delighted to see them all, and the realization both surprised and pleased him.
Lemon waggled her eyebrows. ‘What’s up, fuckers? Miss me?’
‘Like a treasured tapeworm,’ came the reply.
***
‘Ah, what did you tell them that for?’ Lemon scratched at her mound of hair. ‘Do all we fucken pale-skins look the same to you, is that it? Speak Horvaun like a native, aye, right!’
Rennic put down his mug with deliberate care. ‘I needed to make sure you lot joined us at your earliest convenience. This seemed an excellent opportunity to align our employers’ goals with ours.’
‘Why didn’t you ask Prince Fuck-stick or Prince Block-head? They’re basically related to the fucken tribals down there.’
Loveless arched an eyebrow. ‘Now who’s sailing on the good ship generalization?’
‘Aye, no, I’m serious. Their mam was a tribal, came north in the quiet years, before the war, part of some noble-marriage alliance bollocks. Sad thing is, fella she married was first off the wall come the old “Wars of Unity”. But lucky lass she was, good King Lubel swept her off her feet in the aftermath and the rest is history. He’s a fucken tribal himself and all, second-generation, mind.’
‘That was the cousin Lady Palo mentioned?’ Chel sat forward, enjoying the fire’s warmth, his mug cradled in both hands. ‘How do you know all this?’
‘Mercy, do you have no scholarship in the provinces? Sometimes I think I’m the only fucker in this kingdom who ever read a word.’
A peal of merry laughter carried over the rumbling camp, the unbridled delight of the elder prince. He seemed greatly restored by the effect of Torht’s gourd. The firelight cast his golden features with a mellow glow, and once again, he shone.
‘So that’s the White Lion of Merimonsun,’ Loveless said, as if chewing something delectable. ‘Comely.’
The prince laughed again, too hard, too long. Beside him, Tarfel looked almost embarrassed.
‘You can see why he did it, eh, Vassad? Offed the other one.’ Lemon was staring at the crown prince, her lip curled.
Loveless nodded. ‘Corvel was the heir, the schemer; some called him Shrewd. I wonder if dear Primarch Vassad felt the sands slipping away as the young prince stepped from his father’s shadow. Couldn’t have kept him at arm’s length for long.’ She sighed. ‘Makes you wonder how things might be, had he survived.’
Lemon sniffed. ‘He’d have made a better fist of crown princing than dingus over there.’
Rennic cleared his throat with measured menace. ‘If our idiot princes can speak tribal Horvaun, they kept it to themselves. Lemon, are you saying you can’t talk to our busted reaver after all?’
‘Well, I’ve still my education of course, I’m not devoid of linguistic acumen.’
‘Is that a yes?’
‘Aye, but do we have to do it now? Fossy’s cooking up a shank!’
Chel looked over. ‘Where did he find mutton out here?’
‘Who said it was mutton?’ she replied with a wink.
‘Please don’t joke about meat, Lemon. Too soon.’
***
Lemon and Chel stood in the evening’s fresh chill as Rennic stepped away to retrieve the reaver. Chel drew the woollen blanket tight around him, grateful that it wasn’t raining again.
Lemon gave him a sidelong look. ‘Oh, but look at your neck, wee bear! Are you sure you want to be here for this?’
He nodded, dragging the blanket up over his throat. ‘I want to hear why she was there.’
Rennic reappeared, dragging a bulky mass after him. It was wrapped with rope and a length of chain, and occasionally it jerked or growled.
‘Aye, fuck, that’s an ugly mess.’
Rennic released the bundle at Lemon’s feet. ‘Yeah, we had to gag her to stop her biting the mules. Lemon, meet Breckikuristaja.’
‘Brecki … Brecki the Strangler?’ Lemon shot another sideways look at Chel’s neck. ‘Now there’s a name with no fucken mystery to it.’
The bundle growled.
After a few minutes of fruitless, broken questioning met by snarls and grunts, Lemon threw up her hands. ‘Language barrier or no, boys, I’m getting no joy from this wanker. Doubt we ever will.’
The skinning knife was already in Rennic’s hand. ‘Then let’s put an end to this sorry chapter now.’
‘Master Rennic, please stay your hand.’
Palo was behind them. Chel had no idea how long she’d been there. Lemon spun around. ‘Aye, fuck, where’d you come from?’
Palo ignored her. ‘She deserves a trial, as does every freeman of these lands.’
‘Oh, aye, right, course she does.’
Rennic raised his eyebrows. ‘A trial? For a Horvaun reaver? Palo, we watched her kin commit murder as savage as any I’ve ever seen.’
Palo gave him an even stare. ‘I did not say that she would be acquitted.’
‘Well, can we do it now?’
Palo frowned sharply, as if the question was so absurd it caused her pain to hear it. ‘There is nothing like a people’s quorum here. She can wait until we reach Roniaman and resolve matters there. There will be much to settle in the days that follow.’
‘Seems like we’d be saving ourselves a lot of trouble—’
‘No, Master Rennic. Not in the name of the free people.’
‘Then what the fuck do we do with her until then? Keep feeding her? Wash her? She was none too fragrant when we met her, and she’s only gone downhill since.’
Palo turned and stared off into the darkness in the direction of the river’s babble.
‘I’m sure you will do as your conscience directs.’ With that, she strode off toward the big tents.
Rennic stared after her.
‘Well, what the fuck does that mean? Who’s going to risk their fingers trying to keep this wretch alive?’
Chel stared down at the battered, broken woman, the ruins of her war-paint now indistinguishable from the streaks of road-grime that coated her. Brecki was indeed none too fragrant. She’d murdered the dark-eyed archer, she’d tried to murder him too. Twice. He put one hand to the bruises on his neck and closed his eyes. Palo’s words echoed in his head.
‘I’ll do it,’ he said.