Cloth struck Gar in the face.
“There, that’s the largest we’ve got,” the sergeant said. “It will have to do. Help him into it, boys.”
The soldiers cheered with the fun of another game. Gar squawked as they descended on him, yanking the tunic down over his head; he heard something rip. They knocked him down to pull the leggins up and lash them in place with black cross garters. Gar started to fight, then caught himself and throttled it down to only enough to convince them he was a terrified, uncoordinated idiot.
Finally they hauled him upright and yanked the cowl of his tunic up to cover his head.
“There you are, Sergeant,” one of them said, thumping Gar on the chest as he turned to his boss. “As smart a soldier as you’ve ever seen.”
The sergeant looked and brayed laughter.
Gar could imagine why. The sleeves of the tunic seemed as tight as tourniquets; their cuffs ended three inches below his elbows. The seams at the shoulders had split, leaving several inches of bare skin, and the only reason the leggins weren’t cutting off his circulation was because they had been sewn to be twice as wide as a man would need, depending on the cross garters to make them fit. Gar wore the cross garters because his “fellow” soldiers had tied them on, not because he needed them. The leggins ended halfway down his shins, of course, and they’d had to cut off the ends of the buskins, leaving his toes sticking out. At least, when General Malachi sees me, he won’t recognize me.
“Well, you’ll do, I suppose,” the sergeant said. “Come on now, and I’ll show you the quarry we’re set to watch.”
He led Gar over to the edge of the plateau, the other soldiers trooping along around him with raucous comments.
“Down there.” The sergeant pointed.
Gar looked down where the hillside fell away, the tops of the trees dropping in steps, letting him clearly see the shining curves of the river below, the tawny line of the road that intersected it, and where they joined, the sprawl of the town in which he had slept the night past.
They put him to work hauling water to the kitchen and timbers to the men who were setting up a wooden wall. After dinner, though, Gar had a few minutes to himself. He gazed off into space with vacant eyes, which no one would think unusual in a half-wit, but his mind was engaged in a lively discussion.
Don’t worry about me, Alea. I’m in no danger, worse luck.
Why not? Alea asked, but couldn’t keep the message free of her feelings of relief.
Thanks for caring, Gar answered, his thoughts colored by the warmth of affection. Apparently General Malachi isn’t going to be here for some time, if at all—this is just an outpost, a handful of troops here to scout the lay of the land and the best routes for invasion. Until Malachi does come, no one’s apt to recognize me—especially not in their own uniform, if you can call this outfit that.
Don’t sound so disappointed, Alea thought. If the chief bully isn’t coming, why are you bothering to stay?
Because this is an excellent place to learn his plans, Gar answered, and when I know their invasion tactics, I can warn the town and tell them how to defend themselves. They could do what these bandits are doing, for starters—build themselves a wall of sharpened timbers.
Then I’ll go tell them so! Alea thought. At the very least, I can tell them they’re in danger.
A good thought, Gar said slowly, but if General Malachi has agents in the town, you could be in danger.
I accepted danger when I landed on this planet, Alea retorted. How about you? There’s a limit to how many men you can fight off by thinking at them!
There’s danger, yes, Gar thought slowly, but I’ve faced much worse, and this is too good a chance to pass up, studying the enemy on his home ground.
Alea caught the overtones to his thoughts, and frowned. There’s more to it than that, isn’t there? You’re still hoping to find a government!
No, I’ve given up on that, Gar answered, but I might learn something about this band of thugs, and why such a gentle civilization could produce so many of them.
Alea set out at first light and came back to the town in the afternoon. As she walked down the road and in among the houses, she saw what Gar meant about a wall—there was nothing to keep anyone from simply walking in, as she had, and the broad stretches of grass and patches of garden around the city were an open invitation to horsemen to enter riding, trampling vegetables and people. She remembered the charred timbers of the new village and shuddered. That could not be allowed to happen again!
She stopped the first citizen she saw by catching his shoulder. “Sir,” she commanded, “defend yourself!”
15
The citizen was an old man, nearly bald, but with quick, bright eyes that took her in at a glance, weighed her, and decided to take her seriously. “Defend myself? Why? Do you mean to strike me?”
“Not only you,” Alea said impatiently, “your whole town! And no, it won’t be me who attacks you—it will be General Malachi with all his army!”
The man relaxed with a smile. “General Malachi? Is that all?”
“All!” Alea squawked. “Burning your houses and looting your shops? Slaughter and torture? All?” The man waved away the threat. “Surely it won’t come to that. The Scarlet Company will stop him before he comes near.”
“Tell that to the four villages he conquered! Tell it to the smoking, charred ruin that was the hopeful beginning of a new village! Tell it to the young folk who were killed or hauled away to slave and whore for Malachi’s bandits! Tell it to the young men who mean you no harm but will come charging against you with swords in their hands because they’ve spears at their backs!”
The citizen stared, unnerved, but collected himself and objected, “Surely you exaggerate.”
“No, actually, I’m holding back the worst of it.”
“It can’t happen here,” the man said with finality. “Perhaps in a small village full of peasants, but this is a town. General Malachi wouldn’t even try.”
“Wrong! Being a town is all the more reason for him to ride down upon you! You’re wealthy, you have a huge store of riches to delight his men—and with your barges, he can ferry his army across the river and start conquering the villages there!”
“Then surely the Scarlet Company will stop him here,” the man said stubbornly. “If you really think there’s danger, good woman, you’re perfectly free to scream it from the rooftops—but I don’t think you’ll find any to believe you. Good day.”
He turned away and Alea nearly did scream with exasperation.
She did, however, walk up and down every street and lane in the town, telling everyone she met, as loudly as she could, about their danger. Most of them glanced at her with frightened eyes and hurried on their way, leaving her to turn and finish her sentence to the next person before that one, too, scuttled away. Now and then she managed to back a man or woman into a corner, haranguing the person until she was finally asked, insistently and sometimes angrily, to stop spouting such nonsense.