Ru Emerson: Keep on the Borderlands

It had taken a lot of convincing to get yet another uncle who’d been a soldier to teach her basic sword moves. She’d managed, and she’dmastered them, which was all that counted.

At the time, she hadn’t been certain what she would do withsuch skills. A grown village woman wasn’t expected to use weapons. By the timeEddis had reached her seventeenth summer, she knew that whatever else she wanted out of life, being a villager wasn’t any part of it.

Her family hadn’t understood. “They probably still don’t,”she sighed faintly. At times, she missed them very much. “But not that way oflife.”

Her oldest sister had wed at sixteen, was a mother at seventeen, and had never been beyond the most distant of Caffer’s hay fields. Ithadn’t been easy for Eddis, breaking with the only way she’d ever seen or known,moving from Caffer to the nearest market town, finding enough work here and there to keep herself fed, currying horses in exchange for a corner of the stable where she could sleep, hoarding her money a copper at a time so she could haggle for that first used sword.

“Forget all that,” she told herself. “It’s done, and itwasn’t easy, and sometimes it was frightening, and some bad things happened, butit’s over. You won, and you got what you wanted, Eddis-your own company ofguards, the chance to travel and be paid for it, to see new lands and meet new people. Sometimes, you get to fight. And you still enjoy all of it.”

She got to her feet, shoved the men’s pay packets in herbelt, stuffed all but three coins of hers in her purse, and snugged the ties down. The loose money went into the pocket sewn inside her tunic. That should cover food and drink.

She shook still-damp hair back over her shoulders where it lay cool between her shoulder blades. M’Baddah and his son must be at the tavernby now. No matter. Her stomach was reminding her it had been too long since that bit of travel bread at the base of the cliff.

The tavern door was at an angle across the courtyard from the inn, just a few long strides away. Now she could smell fresh-baked bread and hear laughter. The small courtyard was cool, the air definitely damp, and the sun nowhere in sight, though it was barely two hours from midday. She crossed the area quickly, slipped through the open doorway, and paused there, letting her eyes adjust to the interior gloom.

The deep walls and strong shutters kept the place warm this time of year. The interior was one large room with plenty of long trestles and benches. There were smaller tables here and there that could accommodate six, if people sat close.

M’Baddah had taken one of the tables against the far wall,and as she started across the room, he got to his feet and pulled out a four-legged stool for her. He and M’Whan had shed their lightweight armor andnow wore loose, sleeveless red tunics over black shirts and loose black pants. Both had thick pottery mugs before them. M’Badda’s small knife was stuck in adark loaf of bread. Eddis drew her stool in close to the table and handed over the folds of leather.

“A small bonus, thanks to that little disagreement on theroad,” she said, her voice low, and her movements unobtrusive. The Keep had themost law-abiding citizenry she’d seen anywhere, and the taverner was known tokeep a close eye on his customers, as did the guards who came here. Still… nopoint in tempting anyone. The men slid the packets out of sight. M’Baddah camepartway to his feet again, but M’Whan pressed him back down.

“You said you would rest, Father. A cup of pressed fruit anda small ale for you, isn’t it, Eddis?”

She nodded, and he went off to the counter. M’Baddah cut athick slice of bread and handed it to her, his face expressionless.

“Your leg is all right?” she asked.

He nodded. He didn’t like being fussed over, she knew, andshe kept her voice neutral.

“It is fine, and I am fine. M’Whan thinks it his fault.”

Eddis shook her head. “We were in a bad spot, and he disabledand killed the one man with a distance weapon, and it’s his fault?M’Baddah-!”

“You know his problem, my Eddis. He thinks however much hetrains, and however skilled he becomes, he will let me down. I cannot persuade him this is not so.”

He went abruptly quiet as M’Whan returned with two woodencups. She tore off a bit of the dark brown, pungent bread, then washed it down with a swallow of fruit juice before topping off the cup with some ale.

“Apricots-oh, that’s nice.”

There was silence around the small table for some time, as they finished the bread. Eddis poured the last of the ale into the apricot juice and drained the cup.

“I think I’ll last until nightfall, now.”

“I asked the taverner for you,” M’Baddah said. “The same stewas last time: venison in a thick broth, and plenty of tubers and carrots. And the taverner’s wife still makes one pot with and one without the onions.”

“Good.” Onions made her ill, which had been another goodreason to leave her home village. She leaned forward on her elbows. “Now. Haveyou heard anything yet about customers leaving here?”

M’Whan shook his head. “I asked in the stables, Eddis. Theysaid some hide merchants came in earlier, but they won’t leave until everythingthey brought sells-two carts of goods and another of weapons and metals.”

“Weapons? Interesting. Most tanners stick to their hides.Still, they’ll be fighting snow over the passes if they delay too long,” Eddissaid. “Not our concern. What escort?”

“I did not learn that yet,” M’Baddah put in. “But I hearthere is an ore-monger who wants a guard for himself and his purse in the next day or so.”

“Too soon for me,” Eddis replied.

Too soon for M’Baddah, she thought. Whatever special potionshe carried, he’d still taken a quarrel in the thigh, and she wasn’t about tohead out with her lieutenant wounded. If all else failed, she’d claim exhaustionherself to keep them here until he was all right. She glanced around the room. There weren’t many people around at this hour; a few men sharing a jug of wineat a nearby trestle might be either off-duty guards or armsmen. No one she recognized.

“My Eddis,” M’Baddah said, “I agree there is no hurry for us.You look tired, and this season has been good to us. We can afford to wait for a client or even return north without one. Also,” he added with a sly smile, “Iwill need time to sell that horse of yours.”

She smiled back. “I know. Still, if we can find a client, afew days from now, I’d rather not-”

“I understand,” he said. “You have been poor and hungry, andyou choose not to be these things again.” He shrugged. “It will not be aproblem, my Eddis. You have a good reputation.”

“We have,” she corrected him.

“We, then. What?” he asked as M’Whan’s gaze went beyond them,toward the door. Eddis turned to look.

Two tall, ruddy men stood just inside the open doorway, and one of them was laughing cheerfully and loudly, drawing everyone’s attention.

Eddis groaned. “Oh, gods, it’s Jerdren. I should have known.”

“But I thought you liked Jerdren?” M’Whan asked ratheranxiously.

“I do. Sort of. Sometimes. But he’s… impetuous. Trouble.Remember the fight he started last time we met up with him?”

“I remember.” The youth cast up his eyes. “Because we sleptin the stable that night after getting kicked out of the inn.”

“Well, that’s Jerdren for you,” Eddis said resignedly. “Youjust never know what he’ll do, but you do know it’ll be loud and probablyinvolve fists. That’s fine for some village where the worst that happens is thepeople around him get shoved into the stable for the night. The Keep-they’llshove you into the dungeon and leave you there.”