A few men nearby looked over and one or two continued to pay attention, but no one came near. Nakor waited a moment, then climbed down. “This isn’t working. Come along.”
He hurried deeper into the milling camp of men. On all sides dirty and hungry-looking mercenaries sat in idle conversation. As he moved deeper into the press of men, he said, “I need some carpenters, cartwrights, wheelwrights, wagon makers!”
One man said, “I used to be a carpenter, before I was forced to fight.”
“Can you turn a wheel?”
The man nodded. “I can shave spokes, too.”
“Come with me!”
“Why should I?” said the man. He was in his fifties, grey-haired, and looked filthy and miserable.
“Because you’ve got nothing better to do, have you? And you’ll get better food and you’ll get paid.”
At that the man said, “Paid? I’m a prisoner.”
“Not anymore, if you want work. I’ll make you a priest of Arch-Indar.”
“Who?” asked the man in confusion.
“The Good Lady,” said Nakor impatiently. “Now, just come along and say nothing.”
The exchange was repeated a half-dozen more times, until Nakor had selected seven men with the required experience. Several others had come forth, but lacked the requisite skills. When they had returned to the pair of guards manning the exit, Pug said, “I’m taking these men with me. They have skills I need for a project.”
“Begging your pardon, my lord,” said the senior guard, “but this is highly irregular. We have no orders.”
“I’ll take full responsibility,” said Pug. “I’m on a mission for the Prince.”
The senior soldier exchanged glances with the junior, who shrugged. The first soldier said, “Well, then, I guess it’s all right.”
They led the prisoners back to the temple, and Nakor shouted as they entered, “Sho Pi!”
The first of his disciples hurried over. “Yes, master?”
“Get these men some food and some clean clothing.” He glanced back, and added, “After they take baths.”
Sho Pi nodded. “I will, master.”
‘ “Then send a message to Rupert Avery and tell him his workers are waiting for him.”
Pug said, “Workers?”
Nakor nodded. “Roo’s going to start up a little wagon-building enterprise as soon as we return to the camp in the morning and get him some lumbermen.”
“Lumbermen?” asked Pug.
Nakor grinned. “I’ll explain it all as we travel.”
Pug returned the smile.
Nakor said, “One favor more.”
“What is that?”
Nakor lowered his voice. “I strongly urge you to require the Lady Miranda stay behind.”
Pug said, “Miranda can take care of herself.”
“I fear not for her competence, but rather that well-demonstrated temper of hers. You are going in harm’s way, even if the risks are minimal. She might not react well to a threat.”
Pug said, “I doubt she’d cause another war, but I see what you mean.” He was thoughtful for a moment, then said, “I think I’d like her to visit Tomas and see how things are to the north, anyway. We’re getting almost nothing from Crydee or Elvandar, and if we’re going to be moving quickly to retake Ylith, knowing how the struggle for Yabon goes is vital.”
“She has the means to travel there?”
“There are some ‘tricks’ my wife is capable of that you and I need to learn. She can transport herself without patterns or devices.”
“That would be very useful.”
Pug said, “You and I, I’m sorry to say, will be traveling by horse. I can fly, but not if I’m carrying you along.”
Nakor said, “It’s better than walking.”
Pug laughed. “You have a wonderful capacity to see the good in most situations.”
Nakor said, “It helps at times.”
“I’ll send word when I’m ready to leave. Two more days, I think.”
“I’ll be ready,” said Nakor as Pug left.
Eight - Preparations
Dash signaled.
The guards at the sentry post waved him and his companions forward.
Dash, Gustaf, and Talwin had trudged along the road for three days, not catching sight of anyone, save for what they took to be a roving bunch of bandits late the second afternoon. Duko had pulled back his forces to just outside of Krondor, so the patrols that had caused the brothers so much difficulty just a few weeks earlier were now nonexistent.
The nearest soldier said, “Who goes there?”
Dash answered, “I’m Dashel Jamison, Baron of the King’s Court.”
Gustaf and Talwin exchanged surprised glances at that, but said nothing. They knew something odd had gone on while they were prisoners of the Mockers, and that Dash had spent time alone with their leader, but beyond that they only knew the young man was leading them away from captivity and toward what they hoped would be a warm meal, clean bedding, and employment.
“Gar!” shouted the first soldier to the second. “Go get the sergeant!”
The second soldier started up the road at a trot, toward the distant lights of the Kingdom’s forward encampment. Dash and the others halted before the first soldier. The man stood in awkward silence a long minute, then said, “If I might ask, m’lord. . .”