She could have wept with frustration.
By the time sundown came and she slumped exhausted onto a bench outside an inn, she was past anger and on the verge of despair. The fools, the blind fools! They almost deserved to have General Malachi and his troops grind them into their river mud.
Almost. No one deserved that, not even self-blinded, complacent idiots.
She needed someone to listen to her rant about them-and it must be dinnertime for the troops. Gar, she thought, can we talk?
His answer was so immediate that she knew he must have been waiting for her call. Of course, though there isn’t much to tell—only the usual soldier’s round of drudgery and boredom. They do have some idea of drill, though it’s very rudimentary—only making us practice marching forward with spears in our backs while they shout and bellow at us and wave weapons in our faces.
Making sure you’ll be more afraid of them than of the enemy you face, Alea thought sourly.
It’s working on most of the other footmen, Gar told her. They must be captives from the villages Malachi has conquered.
Alea’s stomach sank. Do you—do you recognize any of our teenage hosts?
One or two, but they’re so dull-eyed and cowed that I don’t think they’d recognize me even if I were dressed as they last saw me—and the wide-eyed cringing simpleton I’m playing should be safe from discovery.
I certainly hope he is. Alea could easily imagine one of the young men betraying Gar in hopes of a little consideration from his captors.
What luck in the town? Gar asked.
Absolutely none, Alea thought in disgust. These people wouldn’t believe the dam had broken unless they were breathing water!
Don’t they believe the stories about General Malachi? Oh, they believe them easily enough. In fact, everybody has heard of him—but nobody believes he’d attack anything as big as their town!
I’ve heard of cities deluded by their own self-importance. Gar sighed. But this is too much. Won’t a single one of them lift a spear in his own defense?
Why bother? Alea thought bitterly. They’re convinced the Scarlet Company will protect them—bring General Malachi and his army to their knees overnight! I tell you, if their complacency has any grounds, the Scarlet Company must be a full-scale army!
Perhaps it is, Gar thought somberly, just very well hidden. Well, if they won’t listen to you, they deserve what they get—but maybe they have a reason for their calm.
If they do, they’re certainly closemouthed about it, Alea replied. No one’s ever seen the Scarlet Company, or anyone from it—though I suppose it could be that they’re so scary no one wants to even think about them.
Well, if we can’t find out what they’re like now, Gar thought, maybe we can get some idea from their history. I’ll ask around and see if anyone knows …
Don’t you dare! Alea’s thought had all the force of terror. Your only protection is seeming to be an idiot, and simpletons don’t go around asking about the past! The ones I knew back ho—back on Midgard, they didn’t even know there was a past!
If you say so, Gar thought doubtfully, but we have to know whether or not there’s any reason to hope that the Scarlet Company will bail them out.
I’ll ask! You just sit tight and watch! If anybody here knows anything more about the Scarlet Company than we do, I’ll find out by this time tomorrow!
You don’t think anyone does know about it, do you? Gar asked slowly.
I’m beginning to doubt that it exists, Alea thought grimly. I’ll ask anyway, though—tomorrow. Right now, I’d better find a safe place to sleep.
The next morning, Alea set out to discover anyone who knew anything about the Scarlet Company. She strolled along the docks, claiming to be hunting a missing bondmate and refusing offers to take his place. She worked a mention of the Scarlet Company into every conversation while she listened intently for the other person’s thoughts but never caught anything coherent, only a passing aura of admiration and fear. She did see a great number of barges and smaller riverboats coming in, watched their owners bargain with wholesalers, then watched them unload produce and reload salt, spices, iron ingots, bars of tin and copper, and the other commodities that a farming village needed but couldn’t produce for itself.
Then she made the rounds of the town limits, reasoning that travelers would have heard of the Scarlet Company, and struck up conversations where the town streets joined the main roads. She saw cart after cart coming in filled with preserved hams, barrels of salt beef and ale, furs and sheepskins and bales of wool; she saw other carts rolling out with more metal and dye and other things the villagers didn’t have around them—but no one she talked to had the guilty or guarded reactions she expected of a Scarlet Company member.
In the evening, she paced from neighborhood to neighborhood, seeing the people come out of their cottages to chat and play while the older citizens sat in circles and discussed earnestly whether or not a given girl should be bonded to a given boy, whether a young man who had struck another was a bully and should be exiled, working out a schedule for their neighbors to haul away garbage, even listening to an argument between two women as to whether or not the first woman had the right to milk the other’s cow if it wandered into her yard (they decided that the two should barter for the milk and build a stout fence). Wherever she could, Alea mentioned the Scarlet Company, but her mind caught only the usual awe, and sometimes relief that the Scarlet Company was there to stop bullies.
Finally, as darkness fell, she traded a bit of copper for a bed in the single-women’s room at an inn, chatted with her neighbors and managed to mention the Scarlet Company, but received only the usual answers, then politely excused herself for her evening “meditations.” The other women stared at her in surprise, then quickly said “Of course” and left her alone.
Alea felt a moment of surprise of her own, at their obvious awe—even if it was rare for a person to meditate before sleeping, surely it wasn’t anything remarkable—then settled herself, let the cares of the day drift through her mind, slow, and settle, then thought, Gar.
Here. Gar’s thoughts were unutterably weary. Alea’s mind moved to a higher level of alertness. What has happened?
Nothing, Gar thought, but it could have. Then he remembered the key incident of the day, letting her share it with him.
The recruits had come marching into camp at daybreak—or trying to march, anyway; they hadn’t quite caught the knack of stepping in unison, and the broken branches they were carrying in lieu of spears lay at all different angles across their chests. Nonetheless, they were at least trying to look military. When their leader called, “Halt!” they all stamped as they stopped.