Keep on the Borderlands Read online

  “We are nearly out of this,” M’Baddah reminded her. “This switchback and the next, and then it is nothing. And I will switch sides with you now, if you like.”

  She nodded and drew a relieved breath when he and his placid mare settled in next to her again. Heights weren’t the problem, but the horse…

  She ducked and threw up an arm to shield her head as a hail of small stones clattered down the slope, bouncing off the road, her head, and her forearm. Startled, Feather plunged sideways and tried to rear, but M’Baddah hauled him down before turning his own mount and urging it a few paces downhill where he could look for the source of the slide. M’Whan’s startled, wordless cry brought him back around and stopped him cold.

  Two large men had come from between piles of stone and stood mid-road a few paces ahead of him, effectively cutting off their progress. One held a crossbow, the other a heavy, two-handed battle-axe. The young guard froze as the crossbow veered his way. The priest and novice eased left, against the cliff face, dragging the packhorse with them.

  From somewhere above Eddis, a third man called down, “That’s right, all of ye! Stay nice and still—and quiet!—and no one’ll die! No tricks, any of you, or y’all die!”

  M’Baddah held out a warning hand as Eddis glanced his way and felt for her sword.

  “You! Skinny lad in the rear, I see that! Hand away from the blade, mow.”

  Eddis scowled, hand still hovering, but M’Baddah said, “He is almost straight above you, my Eddis, and he has a stone in his hands—a large one.”

  She spread one hand across her leg, signaling “Stay ready.” The brute high above her rumbled a threat, and Eddis spread her hands as wide as she dared without letting go the reins. The horse was acting up, tight as she held him.

  “You settle that horse down there, boy!” the man overhead snapped. “No tricks, I said!”

  “Come steady him yourself!” Eddis snarled and looked up. Three man-lengths above her, a bear of a man in rusty armor straddled a slab of rock, easily hefting a boulder that would crush her, if he dropped it. His eyes went wide.

  “You’re no lad!”

  “Bright man,” Eddis replied steadily. “Except you’ve picked the wrong place to rob people.”

  “Would be,” the man with the crossbow said, “if we planned on taking our time.” He stepped forward, eyes shifting to the priest. “We won’t. You—priest. Just hand over that box and your pouch, and we’ll be gone.”

  The priest eyed him coldly.

  “Or we’ll kill you all and take it anyway.”

  The bandit gasped in pain, one of M’Whan’s hidden daggers deep in his forearm. The crossbow twanged loudly. Eddis tightened her grip on the reins and threw herself flat on Feather’s neck as the quarrel sang through the air unnervingly close.

  M’Baddah caught his breath sharply, came up behind Eddis, and slapped her horse on the rump, sending it jerking forward. The crossbowman’s weapon fell from suddenly limp hands, as he staggered back, M’Whan’s second dagger buried to the hilt in his throat.

  Eddis spurred up the road, drawing her sword. She and M’Baddah veered around the huddle of priests. Feather leaped again, nearly unseating Eddis as the boulder shattered on the road just behind them. M’Whan had already turned partway around in the saddle, a word steadying his well-trained horse as he drew his bow down on the man high on the ledge. M’Baddah and Eddis rode straight for the axeman, who stared blankly at his fallen companion.

  She sliced at his head as she rode past, and he winced back from her—into M’Baddah’s wickedly sharp, curved sword.

  It took her a moment to get Feather under control and turned. The crossbow wielder lay still, and M’Baddah was dismounting rather stiffly to retrieve his sword from the dying axeman. Up on the rocks, the brute clutched his shoulder, where one of M’Whan’s yellow-fletched arrows wobbled between his fingers, a dagger’s worth of the shaft in his arm. He turned and staggered out of sight.

  Eddis rode down to where the clients still huddled against the cliff “It’s all right, you’re safe and so is your bundle. Let’s go, now.”

  The novice clutched his saddlebow and closed his eyes. He looked sick. The priest merely nodded and tugged at the youth’s reins to get all three animals moving. She let them pass, caught up to M’Baddah and his son. M’Whan was off his horse staring at his father.

  “Father, you’re wounded!” When he reached out, M’Baddah pushed his hands aside.

  “It is nothing much, my son. Leave it. You can tend it for me once we reach the Keep walls and the inn.”

  It was Eddis’ turn to stare. A trickle of blood ran down M’Baddah’s leg. He held a short, pale quarrel in one hand, but the tip and a finger’s worth of shaft were dark with his blood. “You broke the man’s aim. What might have been painful is merely a scrape.” Before M’Whan could protest further, the older man mounted. “Let us get these priests safely inside the gates.”

  “These men—” M’Whan began. He sounded dazed, and his face was white.

  Eddis shook her head. “Leave the bodies. Your father is right. The priests are our concern now.” And your father, she thought.

  The younger man pulled himself together, nodded, remounted, and dropped back to take rearguard behind the priest, his novice, and the packhorse.

  Fortunately, the last of the steep part was nearly behind them. The next loop of road seemed to jut over open air before turning back along the cliff face, and from that point on, the way was fairly easy. M’Baddah, despite his wound, set a quick pace, and now Eddis could see the thick, featureless south wall and the first glimpse of turrets. After another turn, more of the walls, and finally she could make out movement up there: guards and others, perhaps.

  After that final climb, the road snaked east along the black stone ledge, hugging the walls before making the final plunge to the main gate. Now she could see men in polished helms gazing over the walls, and the glinting points of their tall pikes. The drawbridge spanning the dry gully was down and the portcullis up, but the heavy gates were closed. She was aware of men watching from the high, square towers, ready to launch an attack if need be. From here, she couldn’t see the ballistae and catapults.

  It was always daunting, riding up to this gate. M’Baddah, aware how she felt, laid a hand on her shoulder. He looked pale, and his lips were set in a tight line, but as she worriedly touched his shoulder, he managed a smile.

  “We are safe. They know us, my Eddis.”

  “I know. It’s just that…”

  She let that go and took the lead, pulling the cap from her very recognizable hair as she dismounted at the gate. It was quiet, suddenly, leaving her all too aware of the narrow slits and round openings in the walls.

  One gate opened as she stepped forward, enough to let out two men armed with pikes. One came a pace closer, smiling as he recognized her. She managed a smile in reply.

  “Eddis of Caffer, and my men,” she said. “You know M’Baddah and his son, M’Whan. We’ve brought the priest Xyneg and his novice to meet with your curate. But first—we were attacked just now, on the Keep road.”

  At a gesture from the near guard, the one just behind him turned and strode back into shadow. He returned a moment later with a tall officer, who listened as she quickly explained.

  “Get four bowmen out here at once, mounted,” he told the guard. “I’ll go with them. Eddis,” he added, “we’ll talk of this later. Go freely inside, settle your clients and your horses and goods, get yourselves lodging and a meal. You’re known here.”

  “Thank you,” she replied. “Known” meant they were trusted—not kept in the barracks and watched until they were deemed safe, which was almost as good as known. “We three will be at the inn. The clients are to be guests of the curate and are expected.”

  The officer nodded as he and his fellows mounted and rode out.

  Eddis felt suddenly very tired indeed. The pikeman smiled at her. “As the captain says, ma’am—”

  �
��That’s Eddis. Ma’am is my mother.”

  “Eddis.” The smile became a grin. “You’re known here, Eddis. Captain’ll find you when he needs you. I’ll get someone to escort the priests to the chapel.”

  Eddis shook her head. “Thank you, but it’s a contract. We’ll manage.” She made certain to shove her cloak behind her shoulders as the gate opened. Let the guard see I’m armed but that the weapons are properly stowed, she thought.

  * * *

  An hour later, washed and clad in fresh cloth breeches and tunic from her saddlebags, pale, damp hair trailing down her back, Eddis sat cross-legged on a narrow cot in one of the inn’s few private rooms, counting out stacks of coins on three squares of soft brown suede. Six extra silver to share out this time. Nice of that priest to add it. Still, we did deliver them safe, even after the surprise practically at the gates. Two extra silver went to M’Baddah as her lieutenant; one for his son, as apprentice. Still better coin than a two-season youth could expect in most companies. All in all, very good money, this trip. She folded the sides of the leather around the coins and set the packets on the low chest that held her personal things. Aside from the chest and the bed, there was no other furniture—wasn’t room for anything else, except the small wooden tub they’d brought in for her bath and taken away once she was done.

  M’Baddah and M’Whan stayed close by, in the large common room. Eddis stretched hard and leaned forward to squeeze water from her hair onto the stone floor. Now and again she stayed in the common room herself, but the chance of a bath and clean hair had been too much to resist.

  “Getting soft in your old age, Eddis,” she mumbled. “A room all to yourself with a bar for the door, and a real window.” True, the window wasn’t much more than a narrow slit—deliberately made too narrow for anyone to climb through, though only a madman would try something that lawless inside the Keep—unlike some places she’d stayed.

  She dismissed that, gazed around the tiny room with real pleasure. Everything about it was plain, strictly functional, but neat and very clean It was much nicer than what she’d had as a girl—a corner of the main room, near the hearth, and a damp straw mattress to share with three sisters.

  All the rest of her siblings—the ones who’d survived childhood—still lived in that village. Most of them, especially her older sisters, had thought her an odd child for actually enjoying the bow lessons all the village children had to take. Even the villages near the heart of the realm weren’t always safe from human predators or other, worse things, but many boys and most of the girls found ways to avoid the demanding work. Not Eddis. She had shown a talent for the bow, and later for the spear, and eventually had been allowed to join the village hunters—mostly older men like her uncles.

  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’d mastered them, which was all that counted.

  At the time, she hadn’t been certain what she would do with such skills. A grown village woman wasn’t expected to use weapons. By the time Eddis 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 of life.”

  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. It hadn’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 it wasn’t easy, and sometimes it was frightening, and some bad things happened, but it’s over. You won, and you got what you wanted, Eddis—your own company of guards, 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 her belt, 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 tavern by 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 and now 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 a dark 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 the road,” she said, her voice low, and her movements unobtrusive. The Keep had the most law-abiding citizenry she’d seen anywhere, and the taverner was known to keep a close eye on his customers, as did the guards who came here. Still… no point in tempting anyone. The men slid the packets out of sight. M’Baddah came partway to his feet again, but M’Whan pressed him back down.

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

  She nodded, and he went off to the counter. M’Baddah cut a thick 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, and she 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 disabled and 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 he trains, 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 wooden cups. 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 stew as 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 good reason to leave her home village. She leaned forward on her elbows. “Now. Have you heard anything yet about customers leaving here?”

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

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

  “I did not learn that yet,” M’Baddah put in. “But I hear there 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 potions he carried, he’d still taken a quarrel in the thigh, and she wasn’t about to head out with her lieutenant wounded. If all else failed, she’d claim exhaustion herself 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 wine at 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, “I will need time to sell that horse of yours.”

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

  “I understand,” he said. “You have been poor and hungry, and you choose not to be these things again.” He shrugged. “It will not be a problem, 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 rather anxiously.