"Are we to be the only guards?" Tarma asked, a little doubtfully. She shifted on the wooden bench uncomfortably, and wished Kethry was here instead of visiting the tiny White Winds enclave she'd ferreted out. She could have used the sorceress' quick wits right now.
"I'm afraid so," he replied with a sheepish smile. "To be brutally frank, Swordlady, my house is in rather impoverished condition at the moment. I couldn't afford to take any of my servants away from the harvesting to serve as guards for her, and I can't afford to hire more than the two of you. And before you ask, my bride's retinue is confined to one handmaiden. Her dower is to be in things less tangible, but ultimately more profitable, than immediate cash."
Tarma decided that she liked him. The smile had been genuine, and his frankness with a pair of hirelings rather touching.
Of course, she thought wryly, that could just be to convince us that the fair Darthela won't have much with her worth stealing.
"I'll tell you what we can do to narrow the odds against us a bit," Tarma offered. "I can arrange to set out a little later than you asked us, so that we're about half a day behind that spice-trader. Anybody looking for booty is likely to go for him and miss us."
"But what about wild beasts?" he asked, looking concerned. "Won't they have been attracted to the campsites by the trader's leavings?"
Tarma's estimation of him rose a notch. She had been picturing him as so likely to have his nose in a book all the time that he had little notion of the realities of the road.
"Wild beasts are the one problem we won't have," she replied. "You're getting a bargain, you know -- you aren't actually getting two guards, you're getting three."
At her unspoken call, Warrl inched out from under the bar where he'd been drowsing, stretched lazily, and opened enormous jaws in a yawn big enough to take in a whole melon. Sir Skolte regarded the kyree with astonishment and a little alarm.
"Bright Lord of Hosts!" he exclaimed, inching away a little. "What is that?"
"My partner calls him a kyree, and his name is Warrl."
"A Pelagir Hills kyree? No wonder you aren't worried about beasts!" The knight rubbed a hand across his balding pate, and looked relieved. "I am favored by your acquaintance, Sirrah Warrl. And grateful for your services."
Warrl nodded graciously and returned to his resting place beneath the bar. This close to the Hills, the innmaster and his help were fairly familiar with the kyree kind -- and when Warrl had helped to break up a bar-fight within moments of the trio's arrival, he had earned their gratitude and a place of honor. And no few spiced sausages while he rested there.
Tarma was pleased with the knight's ready acceptance of her companion, and finalized the transaction with him then and there. By the time Kethry returned, she had already taken care of supplies for the next day.
They appeared at the house of the bride's father precisely at noon the next day, ready to go. Sir Skolte met them at the gate -- which was something of a surprise to Kethry.
"I -- rather expected you would send a servant to wait for us," Kethry told him, covering her confusion quickly, but not so quickly that Tarma didn't spot it.
"Darthela has been insisting that I 'properly introduce' you," he replied, a rather wry smile on his thin lips. "That isn't the sort of thing one leaves to a servant. I confess that she has been most eager to meet you."
Tarma caught her partner's quizzical glance and shrugged.
The odd comment was explained when they finally met the fair young bride; she entered the room all flutters and coquettishness, which affectations she dropped as soon as she saw that her escorts were female. She made no effort to hide her disappointment, and left "to pack" within moments.
"Now I see why you hired us instead of that pair of Barengians," Tarma couldn't help but say, stifling laughter.
Sir Skolte shrugged eloquently. "I won't deny I'm a bit of a disappointment for her," he replied cynically. "But beggars can't be choosers. She's the sixth in a set of seven daughters, and her father was so pleased at being able to make trade bargains with me in lieu of dower that he almost threw her at me. Fortunately, my servants are all uglier than I am."
The look in his eye told Tarma that Darthela was going to have to be a great deal cleverer than she appeared to be if she intended to cuckold this fellow.
But then again...
"Tell me, are folk around here acquainted with the tale of 'Bloody Carthar's Fourteen Wives?' Or 'Meralis and the Werebeast?' "
He shook his head. "I would say I know most of the tales we hear in these parts by heart, and those don't sound familiar."
"Then we'll see if we can't incline Darthela's mind a bit more in an appropriate direction," Kethry said, taking her cue from the two stories Tarma had mentioned. "We'll be a week in traveling, and stories around the campfire are always welcome, no?"
"What -- oh, I see!" Sir Skolte began to laugh heartily. "Now, more than ever, I am very glad to have met you! Ladies, if you are ever looking for work again, I shall give you the highest recommendations -- especially to aging men with pretty young wives!"
That took them from Lythecare to Fromish, on the eastbound roads. In Fromish they ran into old friends -- Ikan and Justin.
"Hey-la! Look who we have here!" Tarma would have known that voice in a mob; in the half-empty tavern it was as welcome as a word from the tents.
She leapt up from her seat to catch Justin's forearm in a welcoming clasp. And not more than a pace behind him came Ikan.
They got themselves sorted out, and the two newcomers gave their orders to the serving boy before settling at Tarma's table.
"Well, what brings you ladies to these benighted parts?" Ikan asked, shaking hair out of his guileless eyes. "Last we saw, you were headed south."
"Looking for work," Tarma replied shortly. "We did get home but... well, we decided, what with one thing and another, to go professional. Even got our Guild tags." She pulled the thong holding the little copper medal out of her tunic to display it for them.
"I thought you two didn't work in winter," Kethry said in puzzlement.
"It isn't winter yet, at least not according to our employers. Last caravan of the season. Say -- we might be able to do each other a favor, though." Justin eyed the two women with speculation. "You say you're Guild members now? Lord and Lady, the Luck is with us, for certain!"
"Why?"
"We've got two guards down with flux -- and it does not look good. We want out of here before the snows close in, but we daren't go shorthanded and I don't trust the scum that's been turning up, hoping to get hired on in their places. But you two -- "
"Three," Tarma corrected, as Warrl shambled out of the kitchen where he'd been enjoying meat scraps and the antics of the innkeeper's two children.
"Hey-la! A kyree!" Ikan exclaimed in delight. "Even better!"
"Shieldbrother," Justin lounged back in his chair with an air of complete satisfaction, "I will never doubt your conjuring of the Luck again. And tonight the drink's on me!"