Raymond Feist - Magician’s End

The mayor said, ‘We try. Fishing is reasonable, given how far out the boats go – there are a great many warships still on the water – but with all the people who fled when the Keshians arrived, we don’t have as many mouths to feed as before the war.’ He fell silent for a second and Martin realized he was also considering those who had died. ‘Still,’ he added brightly, ‘we’re starting to see some farm produce coming into the city. Higher-than-usual prices have lured farmers previously reluctant to venture from home during the fighting, and while the produce is not of highest quality, it suffices.’

‘Some of the townswomen had vegetable gardens,’ said Lily. ‘Rather than merely store the produce for next winter, they’re selling it at market on Sixthday.’

‘We get along,’ said the mayor.

‘Well, if this peace lasts, we’ll see a return to normality, at least in Yabon,’ said Martin.

‘What of the Far Coast?’ asked the mayor.

‘We don’t know. Earl Robert—’ he glanced at Bethany whose expression turned sombre at mention of her father, ‘—and the other western lords are with Prince Edward. Until the new king is chosen, I don’t see any of them coming back.

‘I was told Carse and Tulan held fast as Crydee fell, so we can hope they’re still secured, but cut off from communication.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ said Captain Bolton.

Martin paused, then asked, ‘What about the deployment of the Keshians along this front?’

Bolton rose from the table and returned with a map. ‘They’re dug in along a line from here—’ he pointed to a game trail in the forest to the south of the road to Crydee, ‘—to here: just draw a line north and south a bit from their barricade at the rise.’ His finger stopped at another point a mile north of the road. ‘I think it’s for show, as if they were concerned we might mount some sort of offensive back into Crydee. They patrol, but their hearts aren’t in it.’

‘What makes you say that?’ asked Sergeant Oaks.

‘They send one patrol to the south in the morning and it returns by lunch. Then, after lunch, they send the same patrol to the north and it’s back by nightfall.’ He laughed. ‘We can see them from the western wall. It’s got so predicable my men place bets on which Keshians get sent out. My men are convinced it’s some sort of punishment duty, as the patrollers look either dejected or annoyed when picked. My lads have even given them names. There’s Fatty, Droopy, Thunder Gut—’

‘Thunder Gut?’ asked Martin.

Bolton grinned. ‘Apparently he can fart so loud you can hear him on the wall.’

‘No? Really! That’s a quarter mile away!’

Oaks didn’t look convinced. ‘I don’t know about the names, but soldiers get good at reading the mood of other soldiers. If they’re sending out patrols as a matter of punishment, the captain’s right; they’re doing it for show.’

Martin thought about this, then said, ‘I had been instructed by Lord James and his grandson that a cautious approach was needed, a discreet bribe to get a small squad across the frontier on the excuse of needing to return to Crydee to recover some family heirlooms, as if any might not have been plundered already. I always thought a better approach would be for the Keshians to not know we crossed the line at all.’

‘That should be easy enough if you’re careful, Martin,’ said Bolton. ‘If you sneak out at night down the coast toward the Free Cities, just shy of the Keshians’ first checkpoint on the road to Natal, lie low for the day, then head up into the woodlands and find a game trail.’ He shrugged.

‘I think I have a better idea,’ said Martin. ‘How far behind the lines does that old bolt-hole from the castle extend?’

Bolton said, ‘Only a few dozen yards, really. It’s awfully close to the Keshian line, Martin.’

‘But if we come out after their last patrol of the day has returned to their camp, and we’re quiet enough, we can loop around behind their camp and be halfway up the mountain by sunrise.’

‘If those elves up there let you get that close,’ said Bolton. ‘We heard a rumour that a Keshian patrol got too close to their city and were routed. I don’t know how true that is. We heard it from a refugee from Walinor, up in the foothills. He and his family managed to get out when the Keshians turned south towards Hu-sh. Before they left, he said they sent that patrol up into the Grey Towers, and not many of them came back. A few of the Keshian soldiers complained about their commander’s decisions in earshot of some of the townspeople before they left for Hu-sh.’ He looked at Martin and added, ‘It’s your mission, Highness, and it’s a bold plan.’ He smiled. ‘Glad it’s you climbing that pile of rocks, and not me.’

‘You’ll have your hands full enough for a while, George. I suspect it’s going to be some months before the Duke of Yabon or any of his vassals return. You’re going to be in command of what’s left of the military for all of Yabon.’

‘Not that it’s much,’ said Bolton. ‘I can barely scrape together a decent-sized patrol once a week to ride up to LaMut. We only get word from Yabon through LaMut. The Hadati tribes along the northern foothills keep things pretty peaceful up there: they’re not kind to renegades trading with the Brotherhood of the Dark Path, but banditry along the roads south of there is starting to be a problem.’

‘We’ll see what we can do,’ said Martin, ‘once I get back.’

‘You’re not taking all the lads,’ said Oaks. ‘We could take a small patrol up to Yabon and back. Show the colours, as it were.’

Martin calculated. ‘I’ve hunted in those mountains since I was a boy.’

A slight clearing of her throat from Bethany told Martin what she thought of that, given that he was a terrible bowman.

‘I have hunted in the Grey Towers from the Crydee side all my life.’ He turned to Oaks. ‘Ignore her.’

‘Ignoring the lady, Highness,’ said Oaks, his stoic demeanour barely hiding his amusement.

‘I’m not taking any of your men, Oaks. They’re good soldiers, but none of them are mountain-trained.’ Turning to Bolton, Martin said, ‘Get me four of your best hunters or trackers, George. I want lads who know how to move through the woods quietly.’

Bolton nodded and stood up. ‘Best we go at sunset tonight.’

Bethany’s expression revealed she was not happy, but she said nothing.

Martin said, ‘It was suggested we bribe the Keshians to slip past their lines, but I’d rather as few people as possible know what we’re doing. That bolt-hole from the old keep is on the other side of the line.’

Bolton said, ‘That side, but barely.’

‘And if we come out after their last patrol heads back to the camp by the road …?’

‘That assumes they’re being sloppy and not leaving pickets out along the line, Highness,’ said Sergeant Oaks.

Captain Bolton said, ‘They’ve grown lax. My best appraisal is that they’re bored and waiting for orders.’

‘To do what?’ wondered Martin aloud.

Bolton shrugged. ‘Gods know, Highness. I don’t. None of this makes sense.’

Martin explained in brief what Lord James had told the brothers about the pointlessness of the war.

When he finished, Bolton nodded. ‘Well, if the object of the exercise was to throw the region into total chaos, they’ve succeeded. From Yabon City to LaMut, we’ve barely got five hundred of what could reasonably be called fighting men. Mostly old veterans and boys, some town militia who didn’t go marching off under the Duke of Yabon’s banner, and our little garrison here; and, as I’ve said, I’ve barely enough here to mount a decent patrol. Our lads are either watching the Keshians, or getting ready to escort farmers to the city when the mayor says it’s time. The Keshians have also withdrawn the heart of their forces. After that Premier fellow, the highest-ranking soldier I’ve seen up on that barricade when I’ve ridden close, appears to be some sort of sergeant of militia.’ Bolton let out a slow breath. ‘I hope you don’t think me presumptuous, Highness, but I think with your own detachment and the garrison here, we could probably roll over that line up on the ridge.’