David Coe - The Horsemen's Gambit

That was why he now found himself steering his cart toward the Silverwater Wash and Fal'Borna land.

He'd been in Kirayde, trading with the Mettai-not something many merchants were doing these days, with rumors of cursed Mettai baskets scaring everyone so. But the pestilence, it seemed, had moved off to the west, having devastated the Y'Qatt settlements near the Companion Lakes, and since there'd been no reports of the disease striking east of the Silver-water, he assumed that it would be safe. Since many were avoiding the Mettai now, he had thought to find a few bargains and sell some of his goods. The Mettai were wary of him at first, as they often were of strange Qirsi, but by morning's end he'd managed to make some sales.

When he first saw the three Eandi riders he thought little of it. True, they were all wearing the blue and green uniforms of Stelpana's military, but that hardly seemed unusual. This might have been a Mettai village, but the sorcerers lived under the authority of Stelpana's sovereign. Still, he watched with interest as they spoke to the village's eldest, who seemed unnerved by their presence here.

An older man who had been looking at some silver blades from the I'Prael had paused over R'Shev's wares to watch the exchange as well.

"Do you know who they are?" R'Shev asked him.

The man looked at him and shook his head. "No idea," he said. "But the older one's a man of some importance. Got an army with him that could ring the entire village."

"What?" R'Shev said, not quite believing it.

"'S true," the man told him. "You can look yourself. They're waiting on these three, just outside the village." He stooped and picked up one of the blades. "How much for this one?"

"Five sovereigns."

The man frowned and shook his head. "Too much." But he didn't put the blade back on the blanket.

"That's the price, my friend," R'Shev said, still watching the soldiers and the eldest out of the corner of his eye.

The man stared at the dagger, twisting his mouth.

Abruptly, the eldest turned away from the strangers and hurried down the lane out of the marketplace. The soldiers didn't follow, and a moment later they left in the opposite direction.

"I'll give you three and a half," the man said.

R'Shev looked at him. "The blade is silver, mined and forged by the I'Prael themselves. The hilt is black crystal, also from the I'Prael. If you don't want it, don't buy it. But if you want it, the price is five."

The Mettai man didn't look pleased, but after a moment he dug into his pocket and pulled out five sovereigns. Then he walked away, muttering to himself about white-hair merchants and their high prices.

R'Shev made a few more deals as the day went on, but mostly he sat on his cart wondering what an army so large would be doing so far north this close to the Snows. Late in the day, just as he was thinking it was time to pack up his cart, he spotted the eldest again, making his way through the marketplace. After a moment's hesitation, R'Shev called to him.

The man paused, checking the position of the sun in the sky before approaching R'Shev's cart. The eldest was a burly man, a smith or a wheelright by the look of him, with dark eyes and steel grey hair. He had a kind face, and he smiled as he stopped in front of R'Shev, though there was a troubled look in his eyes.

R'Shev stood to greet him.

"What can I do for you, friend?" the eldest asked. "I hope business has been good today."

"It has been. Thank you, Eldest. But I was curious about those soldiers I saw you talking to earlier."

The eldest's smile vanished. "What about them?"

"I heard someone say they were leading an army. Is that true?"

He exhaled, then nodded. "Yes, it's true. It looked to be a large force. Nearly two thousand men, I'd say."

R'Shev shivered, though he wasn't cold. "Two thousand? Do you know what they're doing here?"

The eldest didn't answer at first. He looked down at the ground and kicked at the dirt with his foot. Finally, he looked R'Shev in the eye again. "I'm not sure I should say. I could… Stelpana's sovereigns have allowed us to remain here for generations, but they've never been happy about it."

"Did they threaten you?" R'Shev asked.

The eldest smiled wanly, though only for an instant. "No, nothing like that." He started to say something, stopped himself, licked his lips. "You might want to consider whether you wouldn't be better off west of the Silverwater," he finally said.

"West of the…" R'Shev stared at the man. "There's a war corning, then."

"I… I shouldn't be saying any of this, but after all that's happened.. He broke off again, shaking his head. "The Mettai have never had any dispute with either the clans or the sovereignties. I told him that-the marshal, I mean. But there may be others in my position who feel differently."

R'Shev frowned. "I don't understand."

The eldest shook his head again. "I know. The point is, it isn't safe for you here anymore. Or at least it won't be for long."

"Are you ordering me to leave your village, Eldest?"

The man shook his head, a pained expression on his face. "I'm urging you, as a friend, to leave Stelpana while you still can."

R'Shev nodded slowly, trying to make sense of what the man was telling him. "All right, Eldest. Thank you."

"I'm sorry," the eldest said. He hesitated again before turning and walking away, his shoulders hunched.

R'Shev began to pack up his wares, all the while thinking about what the eldest had said. Clearly those soldiers had been marching to war, which was alarming enough considering the Southlands' history. But he thought there was more to the man's words than just the obvious. He'd been trying to tell R'Shev something, and he'd been too circumspect-or R'Shev had been too dense-for the message to get through.

Still, R'Shev knew what he had to do. There was more at stake here than his safety. He might not have thought of himself as Nid'Qir anymore, but he was Qirsi, a brother to every man and woman west of the Silverwater. The Fal'Borna were a hard people, fearsome in battle and uncompromising in the marketplace. But their hair was white, their eyes as yellow as his own. They had to be warned.

He was on his way from the village well before sunset, and for the rest of that day, and over the next two days, he drove Ebbie, his old black cart horse, as hard as he dared. The distance between Kirayde and the Silverwater wasn't great-less than eight leagues. He was safely in Fal'Borna land just after midday the day after he left the Mettai. But even after he reached the river and crossed over it on a stone bridge just south of Turtle Lake, near what little remained of the Y'Qatt town of C'Bijor's Neck, he didn't stop. Instead he turned north and followed the shores of the lake and the wash above it toward Lowna, the closest Fal'Borna settlement.

As he traveled, he continued to reflect on his conversation with Kirayde's eldest, asking himself the same questions again and again. As a merchant, and particularly as a Qirsi in Eandi lands, he spent much of his time alone with his thoughts. He often had dialogues with himself, sometimes even speaking aloud so that Ebbie's ears would twitch, as if she were trying to listen in on his conversations with himself. He considered it a skill of sorts, a way of keeping his mind sharp, a way, at times, of staving off boredom.

Why would the Eandi risk war now? The answer to this question, the easiest of all, became clear to him as soon as he realized that his travels would take him so close to C'Bijor's Neck. The same pestilence that had ravaged that town was said to be decimating Fal'Borna villages on the Central Plain. What better time to strike?

But why would they speak to the Mettai? Would they have been asking permission to march through Mettai lands? Did they plan to attack from the north? That would surely be unexpected, and anyone who knew the history of the Blood Wars understood that the sovereignties needed every advantage they could get. But the Eandi had never shown any consideration for the Mettai in the past, and they'd long made it clear to the dark-eye sorcerers that the land on which they lived belonged to the sovereign, not to the Mettai. R'Shev could think of no reason why the sovereign's commanders would suddenly see fit to ask permission to march an army through the Companion Lakes region.