Bearers of the Black Staff

After he found the girl.

The sentries brought him up to Taureq Siq’s command tent, where the Maturen was waiting for him, standing in front of the tent flaps with his sycophants and retainers and his miserable younger son. No sign of the elder, which might mean he was still inside the valley. It would be too bad for him if he was. Sider Ament would find him and put an end to him; Inch was certain of it. He’d seen the look in the other’s eyes when he’d learned the truth. Revelation, rage, and murderous determination—they were all visible. Scary, even to a seasoned veteran like himself. Sider wasn’t the kind you wanted to antagonize, and the Maturen’s elder son had gone way beyond that.

Inch came up to Taureq Siq, giving him a friendly greeting in the form of hands outstretched and palms turned up. It signified that he came openly and without bad intentions. A dreadful lie, but what could you do? The Maturen gave him a small nod and nothing more. Trusted nobody, that one. Inch knew why. Taureq was always expecting the worst of everyone and was seldom disappointed. One day Inch, too, would live up to his expectations.

He barely spared a glance at Grosha as he addressed the boy’s father in his own tongue. “Cudjion, Taureq. Word is you’ve made plans to make a new home in a valley beyond those mountains.” He pointed off to the east, toward where he had left Sider Ament to make his way back. “I thought you might need someone with my skills to help you get settled.”

The Maturen gave him a hard look. “How do you know of this? The Trolls don’t speak of it.”

Inch shrugged. “I met a man, one from the valley. He spoke to me about you. Said you had one of his people. He wanted to know what I could tell him about you, what I knew that might help him decide how to stop you. I told him he had better find a new home far, far away.”

Grosha started forward a step, snarling. “You spoke to someone about us?” he demanded. “You gave him information?”

“What I told him, he already knew.” Deladion Inch spoke to the father, ignoring the son. “What matters is that I know where to find the entrance to the valley, so maybe that’s information you can use. Maybe I can be of service, if there’s something in it for me.”

Taureq Siq’s face relaxed. “We already know how to get into the valley this man comes from. We know everything. Those who live there are not warriors, not trained, not skilled in fighting. They have no army, no unity of their peoples, nothing that would prevent us from taking the valley for ourselves. We don’t need you.”

Deladion Inch nodded and shrugged. “Maybe you don’t. Maybe you know all about their weapons and how to get past them. Maybe you aren’t afraid of something that can wipe out half your soldiers before you even get within bow range.”

It sounded good, even to him. The secret of the valley’s passes was compromised, along with the lack of any standing army trained to defend against invaders. But maybe the discussion hadn’t gotten to the matter of weapons.

The Maturen hesitated. “They have the same weapons we do. Except that they have one of the black staffs aiding them, as well. But one man is not enough to stop us.”

“One man, no. Fifty fire throwers and a dozen cannons that can reach a target a mile away, yes. Or am I missing something?”

Grosha spit at him. “You lie, mercenary.”

“Do I? You know this?”

“I know Elves don’t have weapons like that!”

He gave the boy a sympathetic smile. “Elves don’t want weapons like that. But Men do. What do your spies have to tell you of that?”

It was a calculated gamble, but it appeared to be working. There was a low muttering among those assembled, silenced quickly as Taureq Siq looked around angrily. “Do you know of these weapons?” he asked Inch. “Have you seen them?”

The big man shook his head. “Only heard of them. But I recognize how they work and what they can do from what I know of my own weapons. You don’t want to risk facing them without a plan.”

“Don’t believe him, Father!” Grosha snapped, fury twisting his blunt features. “He would say anything to share in what we have!”

Inch gave him another smile and looked at his father as if to say, These impulsive boys, what can you do? “You doubt what I’m saying, little pup? Let’s ask the girl, your captive from the valley. Let’s see what she says. Go ahead. Ask her.”

“We cannot ask her!” Grosha shouted, enraged. “We don’t speak the language well enough. Only Arik does. You know that!”