“What will you do?” said Calis.
“I’d like to head out tonight and get a march on this news heading south. Maybe catch a boat out of Maharta if I can’t find a billet there, head up coast to the City of the Serpent River or down to Chatisthan, someplace nobody knows me. I’ll find another company who’ll hire me, or a merchant needing a bodyguard.” He looked to the north for a moment with a thoughtful expression. “But with what’s up there, I don’t know that any of us can find a peaceful life anywhere. I’ve never seen war like this before. You saw the smoke, Captain?”
Calis nodded.
“They fired the city when they were through. I don’t mean a fire here or there, but the entire city. We saw from a ridge to the south before we ran for our lives, but we saw.” His voice lowered as if he was afraid someone might overhear. “From one end to the other the fire burned, and the smoke rose so high it flattened and spread through the clouds like a big tent. Soot rained from the sky for days. Twenty, thirty thousand soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder before the gates, shouting and laughing, chanting and singing as they killed those who wouldn’t serve their cause. And I saw her.”
“Who?” said Calis with sudden interest.
“The Emerald Queen, some call her. In the distance. Couldn’t see her face, but I saw a company of lizards on those damn big horses of theirs, and a big wagon, bigger’n anything I’ve ever seen before, and on the wagon was this big golden throne, and this woman sat there, in a long robe. You could see the green flicker of the emeralds at her throat and wrists, and she had a crown with emeralds. And the lizards all went wild, hissing and chanting, and even some of the men, those who’d been with them long enough, they all bowed when she came by.”
“You’ve been helpful,” said Calis. “Take a fresh horse and whatever food you need and slip out at the guard change at sundown.” Rian saluted and left.
Erik turned to leave and Calis said, “Keep what you heard to yourself.”
Erik nodded. Then he said, “Captain, the horses?”
Calis shook his head. “Very well. Do what you can, but nothing that diminishes our ability to care for our own animals. No medicines you can’t replace . . . easily replace.”
Erik was about to say thank you, but Calis turned and reentered the hut, leaving him alone. After a moment he headed back to the horses; there was a great deal of work to do, and some of Zila’s companions would be leaving on foot in two days if he didn’t work miracles.
“Erik!”
Erik looked up to see Embrisa standing nearby, just outside the corral where he was examining a horse’s leg, and he said, “Hello.”
Shyly she said, “Can you have supper tonight?”
Erik smiled. The girl had asked him twice before, so he could meet her father and mother—though he already had in the market and knew them by sight, she wanted a formal meeting. It was becoming clear she had decided that Erik should court her, and he was both flattered and disturbed by the attention.
She would be of marrying age in another two years in Ravensburg, but that was Ravensburg. The people here were much poorer, and children meant hands that could work at three years of age, out in the field gleaning grain that fell from the stalks as the crops were harvested, helping with the heavy work by six or seven years. A boy was a man at twelve, and a father at fifteen.
He crossed to the rails, and climbed over, stepping down next to her. “Come here,” he said quietly. She stepped closer and he looked down and put his hand on her shoulder. He kept his voice low as he said, “I like you very much. You’re as nice a girl as I’ve met, but I’m going to be leaving soon.”
“You could stay,” she said in a rush. “You’re only a mercenary, and you can leave the company. A smith would be a man of importance here, and you’d quickly become a leader.”
Erik was suddenly aware that besides being pretty, she was also a cunning girl who had sized up the most likely man in the company to become rich—at least by village standards—should he remain and ply a trade.
“Isn’t there a boy here—” he began.
“No,” she said, half in anger, half in embarrassment. “Most of them are already married or too young. The girls outnumber them because of the wars.”
Erik nodded. His own company, though composed of condemned men, numbered more than one former farmer’s son who had left home to seek his fortune as a soldier or bandit.
Suddenly Roo was standing beside them, and Erik knew he had overheard the entire conversation, though he pretended not to, by saying, “Embrisa! I didn’t see you there. How are you?”
“Fine,” she said, lowering her eyes; her sullen tone showed she wasn’t.