“I am Dhulyn Wolfshead,” his Partner said. “Called the Scholar. I was Schooled by Dorian the Black Traveler. I have fought at Sadron, Arcosa, and Bhexyllia.” And Limona, thought Parno, though perhaps she was right not to mention that particular battle until the Mercenary House here in Lesonika had ruled on the consequences of it. “I fight with my Partner, Parno Lionsmane,” Dhulyn concluded.
“And I am that Parno Lionsmane with whom she fights,” Parno added. “Called the Chanter and Schooled by Nerysa Warhammer of Tourin.”
There was a moment—just a moment—when the eyes of the arbalest woman had shifted, glancing at Dhulyn’s badge, but the man holding the
garwon
on Huelra never moved.
“Come with us,” the
garwon
holder said. “Now. If not, we kill your friend.”
“Or,” Dhulyn answered in her most reasonable tone. “We can wait until your wrist gets tired and then kill
you
.”
The skeptical snort that sounded from the shadows came from the third man on the left. Parno automatically calculated distance and angle. Dhulyn did not take her eyes from the
garwon
.
“Crew of the
Catseye
are aboard our ship,” the man continued in the same even tone. “You don’t come, or we don’t return,” he shrugged. “They’ll be killed.”
Parno had to admit he was impressed. The mustached man spoke as though he was commenting on the weather. There weren’t many who could be threatened by a Mercenary Brother and not even change color—no matter how many armed men stood in the shadows behind them.
“Huelra, is this true?”
“Wolfshead, it is. You’d been gone a few hours—and half my crew on shore leave after you—when these came on board under a trading flag, may their ship have plank worm. Why should I doubt them?” Huelra looked as though he’d like to spit, but couldn’t turn his head. “They took us handily, curse their keel, and they took my crew away. That much I saw before they hauled me down here.”
Parno could see that under Huelra’s fear and rage was a measure of embarrassment at being so easily caught. He’d probably been flattered that the Long Ocean Traders had approached him at all.
Dhulyn smiled her wolf’s smile, her lip turning back from the small scar that marked it. “If we didn’t care about Huelra,” she said to the trader, “we’d hardly care about his crew.” This time the man blinked, and Parno stifled a smile of his own.
“It isn’t necessary to hold people hostage to hire us,” she added. “You might simply offer us money.”
The man slowly shook his head, without moving his eyes from Dhulyn’s face.
Demons and perverts,
Parno thought. This was taking too long. “I’m going to take my cloak off,” he said. “It’s wet, and it’s cold. I’ve brandy here in this flask, and I see no reason I shouldn’t drink some. We understand that if we don’t cooperate you’ll kill Huelra’s people. Tell us why we should stop you.”
Now
the man was round-eyed with surprise—though still not afraid. He turned his head, almost enough to look at the young women holding the arbalest. “You’re Paledyn,” he said finally. “Mercenary Brothers. People won’t die when you can save them.”
Interesting. Not untrue, in and of itself, just interesting the man should say so.
“Dhulyn Wolfshead is Senior Brother,” Parno said. “Here and now, it is she who will decide who lives and who dies. So we might as well relax, while she’s listening to your request.” Parno moved his hands to the clasp of his cloak and let the sodden garment fall to the floor, where he kicked it to one side. Dhulyn was already tossing hers toward the spot where their packs were tied securely against sliding should the ship roll. This time the man did glance quickly at the woman behind him, as he lowered his
garwon
. The woman herself relaxed, but Parno noticed that she did not release the crank on the arbalest.
“Come,” Dhulyn said, the merest edge of impatience in her voice. “Tell us what you require of us.” Parno opened the flask of brandy, took a swallow, and tossed it to Dhulyn. She caught it neatly in her left hand, but held it without taking a drink. That made three times they had moved without anyone using a weapon. If they could keep this up, this could finish with them all drinking together.
“Malfin Cor of the Long Ocean Nomads.” The man had lowered his weapon, but he had not put it down, and he still had his hand on Huelra’s shoulder. “Our ship is
Wavetreader,
and this my sister-captain, Darlara Cor.” The woman inclined her head.
“Offer to hire and you say no? Then what?” the woman Darlara spoke up. “Our time, and our funds, running out. You
must
cross the Long Ocean with us—”
“If not,” Malfin Cor said. “We kill Captain Huelra and his crew, burn
Catseye
.”
Parno raised his eyebrows.
That
point had already been made. This did not seem like the kind of shrewd and subtle trading the Nomads had the reputation for. He waited, expecting Dhulyn to make a coun tersuggestion of her own, but she had fallen silent, and perfectly still. She seemed not even to notice the slight motion of the
Catseye
under her feet. Parno took the chance of looking directly at her. What he saw almost made him reach toward his sword once more. Dhulyn’s face was as still as a statue, and what little natural color she had was drained away. But what shocked Parno most was the almost invisible trembling of her lower lip.
“But why must it be Mercenary Brothers you take?” When she finally spoke, even her voice seemed pale.
The two exchanged quick glances again. “Been told it must be,
will
be, it was
Seen
.”
Dhulyn’s knuckles went white as her grip on the brandy flask tightened.
Blooded demons,
Parno thought. A Seer. These Nomads had been sent by a Seer. He started to relax. He and Dhulyn had been trying to find a Seer for moons now. If these Nomads had been sent by one . . .
“Paledyn we must bring,” the man was saying. “Spokesmen between our people and our enemies. Spokesmen
they
will trust.”
“Let me guess.” Dhulyn’s rough-silk voice was sour. “You need such paragons because your enemies no longer trust you to deal honorably with them?” Parno blinked. His Partner must have some reason to ignore the mention of Seers.
The two Captains Cor inclined their heads in unison, apparently unfazed by the implication. “Never been much meeting of souls between us,” the woman Darlara said. “They’re landsters, and we’re of the Crayx.”
“Even so, things looked to be getting better, with new negotiators, trade going up, but now . . .” Malfin Cor shook his head. “That’s stopped. Won’t even speak to us.”
“You think you can force
us
to trick them for you?” Dhulyn took a swig of the brandy.
“No! Need you to deal honorably with them. Wish you to negotiate in good faith.”
Dhulyn looked down at the flask in her hand, and back up at the Nomad captains. “May I suggest that kidnapping us by threatening to kill our friends may not be the best way for you to begin.”
Malfin Cor took in a deep breath and released it slowly, as if he was trying to keep his temper. “Paledyn—Mercenaries, we’ve tried all other ways. Say we should offer money—very well, what will you take?”
Ah, he’s got us there,
Parno thought. He’d be having fun, if Dhulyn wasn’t so pale, and so still.
Dhulyn was still hesitating. “There are other Mercenary Brothers here in Lesonika. Let me find you one of those,” she finally said. “We have a matter for judgment in our House here, a matter of our Brotherhood, and we are not free to take employment until it is resolved.”
Now
Parno thought he understood Dhulyn’s behavior. They were bound by all their oaths of Brotherhood to await the summons of their House. Kedneara the late Queen of Tegrian had asked for a judgment of outlawry against them—mistakenly, of course, but she’d died before being able to withdraw it. They had sworn documents from the present Queen, but if they missed this judgment, if their documents were not presented, it could very well result in outlawry for them.
And the Mercenary Brotherhood was the only home Dhulyn Wolfshead had ever known. No surprise that she was ignoring the reference to a Seer, and considering—even if only for a moment—letting Huelra and his people die rather than lose it. After all, death was what lay in store for all of them. Eventually.
But Captain Malfin Cor was shaking his head. “Must leave with this tide—now, in fact. Who knows how long it might take to find others.” He lifted his hand as Dhulyn started to speak again. “It’s not
we
can’t wait. It’s the Crayx.”
“I begin to see why they have problems negotiating with these others,” Parno said, under his breath.
Dhulyn nodded, but slowly. “We could agree, and then kill you all.”
Parno forced his eyebrows to remain at their normal level.
That
was a negotiating tactic he’d never heard her use before.
Another snort of laughter came out of the shadows behind Captain Darlara Cor. Before the sound died away, Parno’s hand flicked out, and the hilt of his heaviest dagger bounced off the forehead of the third man to the left. There was a THUNK as the man fell to his knees and pitched forward into the flickering light of the lanterns.
“You were saying?” Dhulyn’s rough voice sounded courteous and soft in the sudden silence.
Blinking, Malfin Cor cleared his throat. “You would not,” he said. “You are Paledyn.” This time he did not sound quite so sure. “You would swear not to.”
Dhulyn sighed and Parno caught her glance, lifting his left eyebrow in answer to her look. They would be bound, no question of it. For a Mercenary Brother there was no such thing as a forced oath. They would die rather than swear one. That was their Common Rule.
“And what prevents you from killing your hostages in any case?” Parno said. “Once we’ve agreed and we’re at sea? I only ask since you admit that you can’t be trusted.”
Captain Malfin Cor bit his lower lip. “Of course,” he said nodding, “that would free you from
your
oaths.”
A creak of rope made them all look up.
“Wolfshead.” Their friend Captain Huelra’s voice was tight, but there was nothing else, no plea for himself or his crew. His throat moved as he swallowed. Huelra had no say here, no control over the events around him; so, like a sensible man, he stayed quiet . . . and trusted to his gods.
Well, his gods were looking after him tonight, that was certain.
“How if I came with you myself, and my Partner remained here.”
“Dhulyn!”
Even as the words left her mouth, Dhulyn knew what Parno’s reaction would be. But it was too late to call them back, and whatever else happened, short of breaking the oaths of the Common Rule—short of breaking the oaths of their Partnership, to which her suggestion came perilously close—she must do whatever she could to keep Parno off the Long Ocean ship.
Without telling him why.
“Without me,” she said to him now, “the Mercenary House can rule quickly, they need not wait for a Brother Senior to me. You can explain what has happened here, and I will return as quickly as I can.” She turned with lifted eyebrows to Malfin Cor and his sister-captain.
“As soon as our business is finished,” he said.
“No.” Parno’s voice startled her, she had never heard him speak so sharply before. “We are Partnered,” he said. “I will not—I cannot—be left behind.”
“I am Senior—” Dhulyn began.
“In Battle,” Parno said, touching his forehead with the tips of his fingers.
Dhulyn held off, but there was only one answer, and her Partner knew it. “Or in Death,” she answered him lifting her own hand to answer his salute. She clenched her teeth against the words she could
not
say. Another rope creaked overhead, or perhaps the same one, and she cleared her throat.
“Let Huelra and his crew go,” she said, her heart tight in her chest. “Now. Free them, and we come with you.” What was her alternative? Let them die? And when her Partner asked her why she’d let that happen—because he would ask her, no question—what answer could she give him? That she could not tell him why, that it was all part of the one thing she had promised never to tell him?
“Wolfshead.” The tone in Huelra’s voice was now completely different. Evidently, he had not been so very certain what their answer would be.
“Huelra,” she said. She wondered if anyone else noticed the tightness in her voice. “You must be our advocate to our House. The documents they have already, but you must go, explain to them what has happened, and ask them to wait their judgment.” She swallowed. “Ask them to look after our horses.”
“It will be done, Wolfshead. Depend on me.”
Dhulyn kept her attention on the last few items she was removing from their largest pack. They’d had to abandon much of their gear—not counting weapons, of course—after the battle of Limona, and even after restocking in Beolind there wasn’t much. They had moved their packs only after having seen Huelra’s crew restored to the
Catseye,
and the cabin they’d been given on the
Wavetreader
—Co-captain Darlara’s own, as it turned out—was more than spacious. Or it would be, if Parno wasn’t hovering over her like a schoolmaster looming over a student. She kept her hands busy and her eyes down. Not that it did her any good.
“
What
were you thinking?”
“Not now, my soul.”
But he persisted, as she’d known he would. “How could you say you would go alone? Demons and perverts, we’re Partnered,
why
would you say such a thing?”
Because you are going to die out there,
she thought, her lips pressed tight. Because she’d known ever since she’d first touched him that Parno was going to die at sea. Her Vision had shown her the storm, and the deck tilting, and the wall of water that would sweep her Partner over the side. And she had promised never to tell him how he would die. Never.