David Drake - The Fortress of Glass

To either side of the longhouse were circular beehives big enough for two or three warriors apiece. Members of the raiding party split up among them, growling to one another and to members of the garrison who were coming out of hiding now that Torag's temper had cooled.

A single Corl climbed a tower supported on three poles, disappearing into the thick darkness. Garric couldn't imagine how a watchtower was of any use in these conditions, but the fact the guard had called the alarm at Torag's approach proved otherwise.

Behind the Coerli dwellings was another woven fence, this one only half the height of the fifteen foot wall surrounding the compound. The gate could be barred, but at present it stood open. A human male and female stood in the gateway watching the newcomers. Patterns of deeper darkness behind the fence suggested others were looking out through gaps in the wicker.

The man in gate was squat and burly; his arms were exceptionally long for his modest height. "I am Crispus!" he shouted. "I am the slave of great Torag! All other Grass Beasts aremy slaves! Bow to me, all you who enter my domain!"

The coffle of women stopped. Garric stepped forward. Sirawhil was speaking, but though the Bird translated the words in his mind, they were a meaningless blur.

Garric had met his share of bullies at the borough's annual Sheep Fair: merchants' bodyguards, muleteers, and sometimes one of the badgers who'd drive off the sheep that a drover had purchased. He'd learned that you could deal with the bully immediately or you could wait, but waiting didn't ever make the situation better. Therefore "I'm Garric or-Reise," he said, his voice rising. "I don't need to be your master, but I'll never be your slave!"

Crispus raised the hand he'd held concealed behind the gatepost; he held a cudgel the length of a man's forearm. Garric lunged forward and smashed the top of his head into Crispus' nose. Crispus bellowed and staggered backward. Garric drove at him again, catching Crispus with the point of his shoulder and crushing him against the gatepost. Garric felt the air blast out of Crispus' lungs, but he didn't hear ribs crack as he'd hoped he might.

Crispus went down. Garric kicked him twice in the face with his heel. He'd been wearing boots or sandals since he became prince so his feet weren't as callused as they would've been when he still lived in Barca's Hamlet, but the blows would've broken bones in a less sturdy victim. As it was, Crispus' head lolled back and his body went limp.

Garric was breathing hard. He hadn't had anything to eat since the evening before he was captured; that was part of the reason he was suddenly dizzy.

He bent and picked up Crispus' cudgel. It wasn't much good to him with his wrists bound together and tied to his waist on a short lead, but he didn't see any point in leaving it for Crispus when he woke up.

"Does anybody else think he'll make me his slave?" he shouted into the darkness beyond the gateway.

The woman who'd been standing with Crispus stepped forward and touched the cords binding Garric's wrists. She held a hardwood dowel no thicker than a writing stylus. She thrust the point into the knots and worked them loose with startling ease.

"I am Donria," she said. She was young and shapely. "Until now there were no men here except Crispus."

She looked up at Garric and added, "Now that I've seen you, I don't think there were any men here at all-until now."

Cashel figured the road to the charnel house wasn't any worse than the one that led west out of Barca's Hamlet, but nobody tried to take a carriage down that one. He, Chalcus, and Ilna had gotten out and were walking with the escorting soldiers, but Tenoctris stayed in the open vehicle of necessity.

Cervoran stayed for reasons Cashel wasn't sure about. Maybe Cervoran didn't notice the bumping around.

"Sister take this track!" said the Blood Eagle stumbling along beside Cashel. The guards had their equipment to carry besides watching out for enemies. "You can tell from the ruts how much traffic it gets. How come they don't grade it smooth, hey?"

As soon as the party'd got into the valley north of Mona, the road'd become limestone-living rock, not crushed stone laid over mud. That sounded better than it was: some layers were harder than others, so the carriage's iron tires bounced and skidded from one swale to the next. It made a terrible racket and must've felt worse, though Tenoctris didn't let it show and Cervoran, well, he was Cervoran.

"I don't guess it bothers most people who ride this way," Cashel said after thinking about it for a little while.

They came around a corner. The valley floor widened here, not much but enough to turn a wagon if you swung the outside wheels up onto the slope. The entrance to the cave was a man's height up the east wall. A heavy wooden frame'd been built against the limestone to support a double-leaf gate.

A slate-roofed hut stood above the cave mouth where the slope flattened into a ledge. An old man sat on the hut's porch, cutting an alder sapling into a chain of wooden links. He must've heard the carriage far back down the route, but it wasn't till he saw it was a carriage with the royal seal instead of a wagon carrying corpses that he jumped to his feet. He half-ran, half-scrambled down meet his visitors. He dropped the shoot he was whittling, but he was waving his short, sharp knife until one of the Blood Eagles stopped him and pried it out of his fingers.

"May the Sister help me, dear sirs and ladies!" the fellow said. He spoke the name of the Sister, the Queen of the Underworld, as a real prayer rather than the curse it'd been in the mouth of the soldier a moment before. "Has something gone wrong? Was the delivery this morning not a pauper after all? Oh dear, oh dear!"

"We're here for other reasons," Tenoctris said as Cashel helped her out of the carriage. "There has been a recent interment then?"

"Why yes," the caretaker said, backing slightly. "A woman, it was. I didn't hear the cause of death. They found her dead in the night, was all I was told."

Cashel handed Tenoctris off to one of the soldiers and stepped quickly around the back of the vehicle to get Cervoran. The Blood Eagles knew Tenoctris well enough that they treated her like a friendly old woman instead of a wizard, but the recently dead man bothered them.

Cashel didn't blame them for feeling that way, but Cervoran'd showed how useful he was when he made the sea burn. Cashel wouldn't say the fellow was necessary; nobody was so necessary that the world was going to stop without him. But Cervoran knew more about the present trouble and how to fix it than anybody else Cashel'd met, Tenoctris included by her own words.

"I must have the body," Cervoran said, tramping toward the gate. The slope'd been cut and filled into a ramp instead of a flight of steps. That'd make it easier for fellows carrying a body. The weight wasn't much, not for two men, but you were likely to trip on steps for not seeing your feet.

"Ah, may I ask why, sirs and ladies?" the attendant said. He stood stiffly, wringing his hands together. He wasn't as old as Cashel'd thought first off, maybe no more than thirty. It was hard to judge with bald folks.

Cervoran ignored him, not that, "It is necessary," would've helped much if the fellow'd been what was for him talkative. Tenoctris followed on Ilna's arm, with Chalcus behind looking as tense and alert as an eagle.

"There are dangers to the kingdom, sir," Tenoctris said. "Perhaps you heard about the fortress that rose from the sea? The body will help us, help my colleague that is, deal with the threat."

Cervoran turned on the platform at the top of the ramp. "The Green Woman's creatures are landing even now," he said. "Human weapons may delay their advance, but I alone can defeat the Green Woman."