At M’Baddah’s suggestion, he and she had heated water the morning after the surprise raid and did their best to clean the child. Blot objected, frightened of the mere idea, until M’Baddah convinced her that bathing was part of the funeral ritual for her friend. It might have been the first bath in the child’s entire life, at least, after her mother’d died, Eddis thought. Her nose wrinkled. So many layers of dirt, grease, ash and cooking oils, mud, and anything else one could imagine. Underneath all that, the child was small even for ten years and incredibly thin—every bone in her body pressed against pale skin. There wasn’t the least hint of fat anywhere on her. No outward sign of maturity, either. Eddis closed her eyes, briefly. Thank all the gods there might ever be that M’Baddah was the one man she felt safe in trusting to help her bathe such a mess of a child and that the child had in turn trusted him to sponge her clean and wrap her in his own blanket after. The hair still wasn’t completely clean, but it was neatly cut.
Mostly clean and clad in one of M’Whan’s tunics, Blot walked barefoot up the road, her hand in M’Baddah’s. Well, Eddis, the swordswoman told herself dryly, you always knew you’d be a lousy mother.
The Keep road bent abruptly east, one of the final turns before the gates. Eddis glanced at those shuffling along behind her, was suddenly aware of the glad outcry from the walls above them. She bit back a smile. The gates would be open before they could announce themselves and their prisoners. This time, they’d be welcomed as honored guests, and tonight, they’d doubtless be feasted in the castellan’s halls and properly rewarded.
They’d done well enough back at that camp. A chest in the captain’s tent was full of bags of coin, gems, and Mead had taken charge of a bag of charms and potions. There’d been other wealth—mostly silver and copper pence—scattered elsewhere in the camp. It came out to a good-sized purse each. Jerdren hadn’t been convinced that they’d found everything, but the bandits one and all denied there was any further hidden trove. With so much forest around them, it was possible they’d simply hidden things outside the camp or buried their wealth. In that case, the castellan’s dungeonmaster might manage to wring the location out of them.
On Jerdren’s orders, the men had gathered together the bandits’ weaponry and brought it along. Most of it was inferior stuff, but the metal could be melted down for new blades. They’d also retrieved the hanging sides of meat that were still fresh. Both metal and meat would add to their shares, of course.
Could’ve been worse, Eddis thought with a sudden grin. We didn’t get as rich by this as Jers expected, but it paid a lot better than caravan guarding. At the moment, she was glad to be coming back to civilization and the chance for clean hair and clothes, and decent food that wasn’t coated with ash from an open fire.
She looked ahead as they came around the next bend, past the southeast corner of the Keep, and smiled. Sure enough, the gates had been thrown open, and there were guards in the road, cheering them on. On the walls, men and women were waving and cheering.
Jerdren edged his horse forward, dropped to the ground, gripped her wrist and flung up his arm, dragging hers high.
“Victors!” he shouted.
Eddis felt her face turning red, and she tried to tug her arm free. He grinned at her and tightened his grip.
She smiled up at the people on the walls and muttered, “You’ll pay for this, Jers.”
“Bah! Enjoy it while you can,” he replied cheerfully. “Nothing like it, is there?”
That night, the castellan held a special banquet for the company. The last time they had been here, the main hall had been a vast, shadowy, and echoing place just inside the main doors. Now the chamber blazed with light, every candle in the elaborate, massive, sconces aflame. Long tables that had lined the walls were arranged to fill the great space, and Eddis gave up trying to count the number of people who had been invited. She recognized the taverner and his wife far across the chamber, and not far from them, the smith. Familiar faces were everywhere. She was abashed to find that she and Jers had been given the high-backed, padded chairs flanking the castellan himself. They were both clad alike in fine silk, their feet shod in soft suede boots made for them that afternoon, eating from silver dishes and drinking from gold-rimmed goblets, while their fellows were ranged at the heads of the tables abutted to the main one.
The bandit chief and his uninjured fellows had been consigned to two of the deepest dungeon cells, close watched by guards. The injured men had been placed in another nearby, one of the company medics and his aides treating them before they were locked in for the night. The dead had been counted, named in the few cases possible, and set outside the northeastern walls for burning at first light.
Eddis, M’Baddah, and a nervous Jerdren had explained about the captains dead brother and about the child called Blot, but Ferec had waved this aside as their personal choice and not mentioned it—or the child—again.
Our problem, that child, Eddis thought. Gods, I’m afraid she really will be our problem, won’t she? She tried to forget about the girl as yet another toast was made to the heroes of the day, but that particular worry wouldn’t stay gone.
It had taken all M’Baddah’s patience to get the frightened child into the Keep and into one of the inn’s private rooms that she would share with Eddis. It had taken a good deal of explanation to convince her that this arrangement was the only one possible, and Eddis still wasn’t sure the girl believed they would return to her after the banquet. She had been curled in on herself against the far edge of the cot when they left. We left her clean, she has blankets, water and food, the swordswoman thought. We certainly couldn’t have brought her here tonight.
Another toast. She smiled, held up her goblet, and dutifully sipped the wine. What, she wondered, are we going to do with the child? She’s used to a rough life, but even so, to take her on the road, guarding caravans?
The banquet was nearing an end, finally. The last sweet had been served, followed by a bowl of water to dabble honey-sticky fingers, that followed by a cool vinegar marinade of thin strips of venison—she managed to set that aside politely, aware of the scent of onions that pervaded both the meat and the liquid. Lastly, a silver bowl of mint leaves to chew, and through them, sip a final chilled tea.
The castellan waited until she and Jerdren had drained their cups, then stood, raising his arms for silence, shaking his head minutely as the co-captains sought to rise with him.
“Keep your places, my friends,” he said, his voice filling the vast hall.
Loud cheers echoed from every corner. The castellan waited, smiling, and finally waved them down. Silence, which he broke, and for the first time, Eddis thought, he sounded like a city leader. The words had obviously been prepared ahead of time.
“Long have we thought, my council and I—all the folk of the Keep!—how best to reward you! “Eddis, Jerdren, your kinsmen, and fellows! Those of our own who chose this dangerous and dire journey with you!” Brief silence. “The reward you earned is yours in any event, but it seems little enough for all that you did for us. Were our Lord Macsen yet alive, and the Keep as it was in his day, a bountiful place, a mark on the map where the wealthiest and most skilled of artisans came to bargain and trade, then would we heap you with gems and gold, and wealth of every kind!”
A rousing cheer at this.
I swear, Eddis thought tiredly, that I know what he’s up to. Is it another horde of bandits, or what?
She glanced at Jerdren. From the look on his face, he’d reached the same conclusion. He raised an eyebrow. She shrugged. Your turn, this time, she thought cheerfully, and sat back in her chair. Ferec let this go on for some time, finally raised his hands for silence, and looked down at Jerdren.