The valley might have made a pleasant enough place for the rendezvous, but as a place from which to launch an attack it had little to recommend it. Since it was narrow and steep to the north and south, the only possible means of escape was through the eastern end, the way Vaja and his companions had come, which he reported as being treacherous hills with unforgiving trails for those taking a wrong turn. Still, some smaller bands attempted to leave this way.
Others moved out as did Calis’s Crimson Eagles, either to serve and take whatever recompense might be forthcoming through looting or other rewards, or to steal away at some future opportunity. Everywhere Erik looked he saw unhappy men. De Loungville wasn’t the only one feeling buggered without leave.
Those who obeyed General Gapi’s orders mustered in columns at the lowest end of the river, just before it joined with the larger Vedra. A bridge, long burned out in some forgotten war, marked the place, and a series of ferries had been established to provide transport from north to south on the east side of the Vedra or from east to west below the nameless tributary.
Calis’s company was among the last to reach the ferry, having quartered higher up in the valley than most, and as a result they were afforded a longer opportunity to sit and watch than those who came before. Men, and a few women, from every corner of Novindus were moving across the river, crossing to join those, like Calis’s, already on the south bank.
A man wearing a green armband rode up and said, “What company?”
De Loungville pointed at Calis, who sat next to him on the left, and said, “Calis’s Crimson Eagles, from the City of the Serpent River.”
The man frowned, looking at Calis. “From the siege at Hamsa?”
Calis nodded.
The man grinned and there was nothing friendly in the expression. “I almost had you, you slippery bastard. But you went east to the Jeshandi, and by the time my company doubled back, you were into the steppes.” He looked hard at Calis. “Had I known you were of the long-lived I would have headed east straight away. A lot of your kind with the Jeshandi.”
He took out a parchment and a charcoal stick, made some marks, and said, “But Our Lady accepts all who come to her, so we’re on the same side now.” He waved toward the south. “Make your way downriver about a mile. Find the Master of the Camp there and report in. In a few days you’ll get orders. Until then the rules of the camp arc simple: any fighting, and you’re killed. We’re all brothers now, under the banner of the Emerald Queen, so any man who starts trouble goes to the stake. I don’t recommend it; I’ve seen some men twitch for an hour or longer.”
He didn’t ask if the order was understood, simply putting heels to his horse and riding off toward the next company.
“That was simple,” said Praji, who sat on Calis’s left.
Calis said, “Let’s find this Master of the Camp and report in. We might as well get situated as quickly as possible.” He nodded at Praji and Vaja, who peeled off from the company without comment.
“What’s that?” asked Erik quietly.
Foster, who was riding next to Erik, said, “Keep your mouth shut.”
But Nakor laughed. “With all the confusion, it’s easy to get separated from one’s own company. It may take Praji and Vaja days to find out where we’re camped. They’ll have lots of time to hear many things.”
Calis shook his head and looked over his shoulder, as if warning the Isalani to keep this to himself, but the little man giggled in delight at the notion. He said, “I think I’ll get lost for a while, too.” He tossed his reins to Luis, saying, “I do better on foot,” and slid off his horse.
Before Calis could object, he was scampering down to where a huge company of horsemen was disembarking from barges while another large company rode in from the west. Within minutes the two companies were locked in milling confusion and Nakor had vanished into the press, ducking between horsemen who shouted curses as their horses shied at Nakor’s sudden movements.
Calis said, “He’s done this before.”
Foster looked after Nakor with black murder in his eyes, but Calis and de Loungville only shook their heads.
They found the Master of the Camp hours later. A narrow face with dark, darting eyes regarded them as Calis reported in. He made a mark on a document, then waved toward the riverbank. “Find a spot between here and two miles downriver. There are other companies scattered along both sides of the road. Find a campsite between the river and the road. There should be a company calling itself Gegari’s Command, just to the north of you. Across the road will be a company under a captain named Dalbrine. If you move south of that position, you will be assumed to be deserting and you will be hunted down. Those not killed will be brought back for public execution. And do not try to cross the river.” He made a vague motion across the river, where in the distance they could see a company of horse riding along at an easy lope.