Jeff Salyards - Veil of the Deserters

Mulldoos couldn’t help adding, “Like the ruined temple, Cap? You said you thought we would spring one there, but I didn’t listen. Turned out you couldn’t have been more right. I couldn’t have been more wrong, you couldn’t have been more right. There. Said it loud and clear. So why risk another trap?” Braylar twitch-smiled. “We wasted life enough in this region, Cap. Said so yourself. And that was before Cynead’s little summons. Now that waste is bigger, and worse. Nothing at all to show for it. Nothing, and-”

“That is precisely why we make a move to obtain the High Priest. Or at least close enough to see if there is a trap waiting for us, to see if he is even there. If there is a chance to take him, we can at least leave Anjuria with something to mitigate the losses. If only a little, yes? But if we don’t at least ride to see, we surely will abandon Anjuria with only Syldoonian dead on the ledger. And that is unacceptable. We cannot ignore an Imperial mandate, much as I would like to, but neither can we leave with nothing. I will not allow it.”

Mulldoos looked ready to press on, as he was wont to do, but Hew-spear seemed to sense that and wisely interrupted. “Very well, Captain. But it does raise the question, would it be not wiser to keep our forces together? If Brune is attempting to ensnare us, we are doing half the work for him by splitting our men. And we do have something else for the ledger-those scrolls and maps, those ancient volumes. We risk losing those if we leave them behind to chase down a rumor.”

Braylar smiled, “As the good lieutenant says, he prefers those. But we don’t know precisely what we have compiled. It might prove to be nothing of value, antiquated scratch marks on piss-poor parchment of no interest to anyone. But there is a very real chance that Henlester might be ours for the taking. And if there is something useful in those dusty scrolls, he could also be instrumental in ciphering the meaning and piecing things together.

“The rest of the men will be behind us only by half a day, a day at the most. We have a chance to seize the High Priest and double the value of our prize. We go on the morrow. Prepare the men. That is all.”

Hewspear rose, sensing the futility of arguing the point, but unable to completely help himself. “Soffjian did mention the Emperor was expecting us to withdraw at haste.”

Braylar replied, “And so we shall. As it is, she’s likely not expecting us to depart for a few days. I’m sure she imagines I will do my best to frustrate her, as I know she would me. So, given that Deadmoss isn’t too far out of the way, we might even make a better pace for home leaving tomorrow. Anything else, or are you two layabouts willing to follow orders now?”

Mulldoos shook his head, his thick neck rippling, and appeared ready to dig in, but Hewspear gave him a look, and he kept his reply to, “And if you sniff another trap? What then, Cap?”

Braylar’s smile disappeared. “If I sense a trap, you will be the first to know, and the first to remind me of what happened the last time we didn’t retreat when we had the chance. I will not lead us to our destruction. If our scouts, flesh and blood, or steel-” he tapped the haft of Blood-sounder, “give the slightest hint that things are amiss, we regroup with our wagons and our dead, and head home, ledger be damned, yes? Now ready the men.”

His lieutenants saluted and left. Perhaps more grudgingly than they had in Rivermost, and no doubt grumbling and grousing. That did seem to be the life of a soldier.

Braylar was eyeing me, “Yes? You have something to offer as well? Out with it. Why should my trusted lieutenants be the only ones to question my every move or motive? With Lloi gone, you must pick up the slack, Arki. I see you wish to add something, so add it.”

I did, though I intended to bring it up another time. Still, no time was likelier to result in an answer I wanted, so I said, “You mentioned the scrolls you scavenged.”

He stared at me. “I do not recall using the word scavenged. Despite the sigil of our Tower, we are not jackals or crows. But what of them?”

“And they are old, ancient even?”

His gaze shifted into a glare so I hurried on. “I have a good working knowledge of a handful of languages, contemporary, as well as older iterations. And if you scav… discovered them mostly in Anjuria, I can make out Middle or even Old Anjurian well enough. I could decipher them for you. Or try at least.”

He gave me an impenetrable look. Those worried me the most. “An interesting proposal. And do you make this offer out of your commitment to our cause now, or because you cannot resist a scholarly mystery?”

Sensing an opening, and without thinking, I replied, “I still don’t know what your cause is, or whether the thing you do and purport to do are even the same. But I do like a good mystery. You wouldn’t need to involve someone else. And I already know the penalty for any treachery. You’ve made that abundantly clear.”

Braylar didn’t answer immediately, a half-smile on his lips, no doubt weighing the benefits of involving me deeper against any mistrust he still harbored. I waited anxiously until he finally replied, “The Syldoon are the ultimate pragmatists and utilitarians, Arki. We recognize talent, use talent, and reward talent. That is one secret to our success and superiority to kingdoms where bloodlines are all, no matter how thin, diluted, or poisoned. So you see, I am encouraged you arrived at the proposal on your own. It saves me the trouble.”

When he saw my expression, my slow recognition, he laughed, and for once it sounded not only genuine but free of mockery or bile or any other nasty thing. I said, “That was why you hired me, and the previous scribes as well, wasn’t it? After testing me, after I passed, you were going to open that chest and ask me to start sifting through the contents. Right?”

He switched to Syldoonian. “Oh, I still have my misgivings. Have no doubt on that score. But yes, you shall have your crack at the mystery, bookmaster. Let us see what you see. But not tonight. Tonight you pack, and we leave early on the morrow.”

Braylar waited to see if I comprehended or not. I’d never admitted that I studied and could understand Syldoonian well enough, though butchered it when I attempted to speak it. So I opted for sticking with Anjurian in responding. “Thank you, Captain Killcoin. I will prepare for the journey and look forward to unraveling the treasures you’ve gathered.”

He laughed again, almost a bark, and shook his head. “I should have known. More fool me.” Then he turned and headed to his quarters. I stood there, stunned that I’d scored a victory, of sorts, and thrilled that I would have something to occupy my time and exercise my skills besides simply recording the murky doings of my patron and his retinue.

After preparing my things to head out in the morning, I stared up into the rafters as I listened to the revelers in the beer garden below, my mind alert and jumpy, as I imagined what secrets or knowledge might be contained in the material the Syldoon had gathered. They wouldn’t go to such lengths to collect them if they were just lay subsidy rolls, or a catalogue of a larder, or anything trivial or mundane. They’d traveled far, and in secret, to gather them, so there had to be something fabulous on some of those pages. Surely some of them. Or at least the strong possibility. But what? What would I discover? Provided I hadn’t overpromised in my linguistic abilities. What secrets would I unravel?

The possibilities were delicious enough to keep me up for hours. Soldiers might have been that excited on the eve of a battle, or courtiers before trying to conquer the chastity of a lady, or maybe sailors before departing on a voyage. I knew my ambitions were modest, even silly to most men. Especially those lacking in education. The idea of spending any time at all sifting through dusty tomes and arcane quill marks would seem the dullest enterprise known to man. But to me, that was what I missed about university the most-the opportunity to explore knowledge, recent or crumbling with age, that those who had come before saw fit to pen to the page in an effort to preserve and protect. There was a certain thrill about coming across even an old subsidy, working out the translation, exercising the mind. And nothing so keen or sharp an excitement as coming across something that had, for whatever reasons, gained a certain value or currency over the years, something lost or critically important or of such significance that men would pay handsomely, or even kill, to obtain it.