Blessed Agnira, spare me from “womanly,” if this is what it is, she thought, making the words an unconscious prayer as she took the reins of Dierna’s horse to lead it behind her own. Just—spare me.
:So what do you think of the girl now?: Warrl asked conversationally, as Tarma sorted through the scattered piles of the bandits’ belongings.
“I’m pretty impressed,” the Shin’a’in admitted, as she squatted on her heels, emptying out a belt-pouch, and separating copper from silver. Not that there was much of the former, and of the latter there was even less, but Tarma was a thrifty soul, and young Lordan was going to need all the help he could get. He was going to have to pay for enough mercenaries to keep his neighbors from getting ideas about annexing his property to theirs. That took ready cash, and silver and copper spent as readily as gold.
“I think I have a fair notion how much of what went on was the damn sword’s doing, and how much was the girl’s,” she continued, pouring the coppers into a large leather pouch that had been a wineskin a few moments ago. “She’s got a few brains besides the guts.”
:Unlike a certain barbarian nomad I once knew,: Warrl chortled; Tarma simply ignored him, and moved on to a pile of looted wedding gifts the girls had overlooked. Of course, it had been under one of the men Tarma had shot, which might be why they’d overlooked it....
She shook her head over a blood-soaked silk cloak. Too bad; that’s one wedding present ruined past anyone using it. She tossed it onto the fire. “I never claimed to have much in the way of brains when I was younger. Now—well, I’d rather do things with a minimum of effort, and that takes planning. That was good work with the horses, Furface.”
:Thank you. And you displayed your customary efficiency with the sentries.: Warrl nosed something out of the dirt, and batted a shiny little gold pendant toward his mind-mate with his paw. She snatched it up adroitly and dropped it into the appropriate pouch.
“You must be planning something rude; you’re complimenting me,” she teased him, stripping the body at her feet of everything useful, and tossing various items on the appropriate piles. “I’ll tell you though, I had a bad moment back there, when the mage started that blood-rite. I thought that stupid sword would take the girl over and turn her into a nice juicy target before we had a chance to start distracting them.”
:You didn’t think it knew what we were doing?: Warrl dragged a set of saddlebags over to the fire so that Tarma could rummage through them, then stood beside her, head cocked to one side, watching her work with absent curiosity.
“I’ve never known what that sword noticed or didn’t notice,” the Shin’a’in admitted. “I know the damn thing’s amazing when it wants to be—but I don’t think even Keth has ever figured it out, and she’s Adept-class. All we know for sure is that it Heals, it gives a mage fighting mastery, and a fighter immunity from magic. And it won’t work against a woman.”
:And that women in trouble call it the way lures bring in hawks.:
“Too true,” Tarma sighed, thinking of all the times exactly that had happened. And all the trouble the sword had gotten them into as a consequence. Not to mention all the paying jobs it had cost them. “What did you do with the rest of the nags, anyway?”
:Herded into a blind canyon. They won’t be going anywhere. I assumed you’d want them.: Warrl sounded more than usually smug, and with good reason. By the time Tarma finished collecting everything salvageable, there was going to be enough here for at least three pack animals—and the horses themselves would be worth something, ill-used, scrubby beasts though they were. Most of the horses the bandits rode in on hadn’t been stolen from the Keep.
:They’ll be worth more if Lordan offers them as bonuses to any merc who signs with him than if he sells them,: Warrl pointed out, following her train of thought with his customary ease. :It isn’t often a common merc gets a chance at even a scrubby nag like one of this lot.:
“Good point; I’ll make sure he realizes that.” She straightened, and surveyed the remains of the camp. “I think I’ve gotten everything worth getting. The vultures are welcome to what’s left.”
:No self-respecting vulture would touch one of these fools.: Warrl sniffed disdainfully. :Stupidity might be catching.:
Tarma snorted in agreement as she tied up a bundle of assorted silver plate. “They really weren’t terribly bright, were they?”
:Doesn’t that strike you as odd?:
Tarma paused with her hands on the last knot. “Now that you mention it,” she said slowly, “it does. You might think these fools had never worked together before.”
:Hired separately?: Warrl licked his lips. :Then thrown together—that would account for some of the laxness, the lack of coordination. They did act as if each man was following his own set of orders, and to the nether hells with whatever anyone else was doing. And once back at camp, the only thing they did as a group was to set sentries.:
“Exactly.” Tarma sat back on her heels, and stared at the dying fire without really seeing it. “Now why would someone want to throw a group of scum together that they know is going to fall apart the moment the job is over?”
Warrl began pacing back and forth, head swinging from side to side a little. :One would assume that whoever hired them—wanted them caught?:
“Good notion. Let’s think about this—if everything had gone wrong for these fools, what would have happened to them?” Tarma stood up, and joined Warrl in his pacing.
:If they had not been able to take the girl, Rathgar would have been faulted for not protecting her. And I would guess that in any case the mage was ordered to dispose of Rathgar, no matter what the cost. They certainly had the men to assure that.: Warrl paused in his pacing, and looked up at her. :Which would leave the estate in the hands of the boy :
“Who could be gotten rid of as soon as the bride had produced an heir, or even before.” Tarma scratched an old scar on the back of her hand. “All right—if it had gone half right, and they’d killed Rathgar, but left a force of able-bodied men behind to follow, it would have taken a while to get that force organized. And even if someone had come pounding after them, they’d have had time to get rid of the girl, which would give the family an excuse for blood-feud.”
:If you assume the girl is expendable—: Warrl sounded sour.
Tarma felt just as sour; the Shin’a’in lived and died for their Clans, and the idea that a man could betray his own blood for the sake of gain curdled her stomach. Not that she hadn’t encountered this before—but it curdled her stomach every time. “I think she is, given who’s probably behind the attack in the first place. Keth already had this one figured. The uncle. Baron Reichert.”
:lt fits his style.:
“Aye, that. He’d put up his own daughter as an expendable, let alone a mere niece.” She frowned. “Let’s get the horses. I think that once we’re in place, we’d better make the Keep a lot more secure than Rathgar had it, or the bride is likely to be a widow before the year’s out. Assuming she lives that long.”