"That's true." Oryon gave nothing away there. It took no genius to reason it out.
"You going to tell me what they are?"
"No. You know better. You're a Guildsman. Or were."
"Once. I'm Marshall of Kavelin now. A contract. I respect mine. The Guild generally honors its. That's why I wonder.... One word. Wasn't going to tell you for a while. But this is a good enough time. Your contract won't be renewed. You'll have to evacuate after Victory Day."
"This'll cause trouble with High Crag. They feel they have an investment."
"It'll bring them into the open, then. Every King and Prince in the west will jump on them, too. High Crag has stepped on a lot of toes lately."
"Why would they? The legalities are clear. Failure to fulfill a contract."
"How so?"
"Kavelin owes High Crag almost fifteen thousand nobles. The Citadel doesn't forgive debts."
"So you've said during our negotiations. They want paymentnow? They'll have it." He laughed a bellybreaker of a laugh. "About four years ago Prataxis started applying a little creative bookkeeping at Inland Revenue, and some more in Breiden-bach, at the Mint. We've been squirreling away the nobles, and now we'll pay you off. Every damned farthing you've imagined up." His smile suddenly disappeared. "You're going to take your money, sign for it, and get the hell out of my country. The day after Victory Day."
"Marshall.... Marshall, I think you're overreacting." Ory-on's wide, heavy mouth tightened into a little knot. "We shouldn't be at cross-purposes. Kavelin needs my men."
"Maybe. Especially now. But we can't afford you, and we can't trust you."
"You keep harping on that. What do you want me to admit?"
"The truth."
"You were a Guild Colonel. How much did they tell you?"
"Nothing."
"And you think I'm told more? Once in a while I get a letter. Usually directions for the negotiations. Sometimes maybe a question about what's happening. Marshall, I'm just a soldier. I just do what I'm told."
"Well, I'm telling you. To march. Ravelin's in for rough times. The signs are there. And I don't need to be watching you and everybody else too."
"You're wrong. But I understand."
Varthlokkur continued demonstrating his trick to Ragnar while they argued. The wizard occasionally glanced at Oryon. The soldier shivered each time he did.
"You may not need a regiment after all," Oryon muttered at one point, nodding toward Varthlokkur.
"Him? I don't trust him either. We're just on the same road right now. Innkeeper. What's the tally here?"
"For you, Marshall? It's our pleasure."
"Found me out, eh?"
"I marched with you, sir. In the war. All the way from Lake Berberich to the last battle. I was in the front line at Baxendala, I was. Look." He bared his chest. "One of them black devils done that, sir. But I'm alive and he's roasting in Hell. And that's the way it should be."
"Indeed." Ragnarson didn't remember the man. But a lot of Wesson peasants had joined his marching columns back then.
They had been stout fighters, though unskilled. "And now you prosper. I'm pleased whenever I see my old mates doing well." He often found himself in this situation. He had never learned to be comfortable with it.
"The whole country, sir. Ten years of peace. Ten years of free trade. Ten years of the Nordmen minding their own business, not whooping round the country tearing up crops and property with their feuds. Marshall, there's them here that would make you King."
"Sir! For whom did we fight?"
"Oh, aye. That was no sedition, sir. The only complaint could be raised 'gainst Her Highness is she's never wed and give us an heir. And now these strange comings and goings of a night, and rumors.... It worries a man, Marshall, not knowing."
"Excuse me," Ragnarson told his table mates. "Sir, I've just had a thought. Something in the kitchen...." He placed his arm round the innkeeper's shoulders and guided him thither.
"You whip up something. A dessert treat. Meanwhile, tell me what you don't know. Tell me the rumors. And about these comings and goings."
"Them others?"
"Not to be trusted. The boy's all right, though. My son. Too bull-headed and big-mouthed, maybe. Gets it from his grandfather. But go on. Rumors."
"Tain't nothing you can rightly finger, see? Not even really a rumor. Just the feeling going round that there's something wrong. I thought you might ease my mind. Or say what it is so's I got the chance to be ready."
"Makes two of us. I don't know either. And I can't nail anything down any better than you. Comings and goings. What have you got there?"
"Tain't much, really. They don't stop in here."
"Who doesn't?"
"The men what travels by night. That's what I calls them. From over the Gap. Or going over. Not many, now. One, two groups a month. As many coming as going, two, three men I each."
"You seen them in the daytime?"
"No. But I never thought they was up to no good. Not when they skulks around in the night and skips the only good inn ten miles either way."
"Do they come by on the same nights every month?" Ragnarson's brain was a-hum. Thinking he might be on the enemy's track raised his spirits immensely.
"No. Just when they gets the feeling, seems like." "How long has it been going on?"
"Good two years. And that's all I can tell you, excepting that some went past this morning. After the sun was up, too, come to think. Riding like Hell itself was after them. "Less they steals horses up the line, they's going to be walking by now."
"You said...."
"I never seen them by light? Yes, and it's so. These ones just showed me their backsides going away. Three of them, they was, and I knew it was the same kind 'cause of the way they just went on by."
"What's that got to do with it?"
"Everybody stops here, Marshall. I picked this spot the day we dragged ourselves back through here after we chased that O Shing halfway to them heathen lands in the east. It's right in the middle of everywhere. Gots water and good hayfields.... Well, never mind the what do you call it? Economics? People just stops. It's a place to take a break. You stopped yourself, and it's plain you're in as big a hurry as them fellows this morning. Even people what has no business stopping do. Soldiers. A platoon going up to Maisak? They stops, and you don't hear the sergeants saying nay. Just every body stops. Except them as rides by night."
"Thanks. You've helped. I'll remember. You can do something else for me."
"Anything, Marshall. It was you made it possible fora man like me to have a place like this for himself...."
"All right. All right. You're embarrassing me. Actually, it's two things. We go back out, you put on a show of what a good choice of dessert I made."
"That's it?"
"No. It starts when we leave. You never saw us and you don't know who we were."
"True enough, excepting yourself, sir."
"Forget me too."
"Secret mission, eh?"
"Exactly."
"It's as good as forgotten now, sir. And the other thing?"
"Don't argue with me when I pay for my meal. Or I'll box your damned ears."
The innkeeper grinned. "You know, sir, you're a damned good man. A real man. Down here with the rest of us."
Ragnarson suffered a twinge of guilt-pain. What would the old veteran think if he found out about Elana and the Queen?