"Careful there. There is no point getting hurt before we even reach Magilnada." Noran directed a sour look at the wagon and the beast pulling it. "Besides, I have no idea how to drive this thing."
The abada had almost stopped at the commotion. Gelthius prodded it with his long stick and it lumbered on again, the traces tightening as it picked up speed. Soon the cart was rumbling and swaying.
"Seems to be you don't want to be here, right enough," said Gelthius. "Me, I can't go nowhere else. I been a cattle thief, a shoemaker, a farmer, a debtor, a rebel and now I'm an Askhan legionnaire. I got food in my belly and clothes that ain't full of holes. I reckon I'm doing all right at the moment. If you've lost so much, why don't you just go back to Askh? Putting aside friendship with the general and all that."
"Go back to what?" Noran's wistfulness grew into bitterness. "The king has exiled me. My family has probably disowned me. My estates are no longer mine."
Noran grew even quieter. Gelthius struggled to hear his words over the noise of the cart's axle, the splashing of the wheels and the pattering of rain on the awning.
"Nothing to go back to; nothing to take back. Neerita's gone. No son. I have nothing left."
Noran stared bleakly ahead, eyes fixed on something else. Gelthius said nothing. He recognised a foul mood when he saw it, and knew that any attempt to cheer up his companion was likely to end in anger. They rode on in silence until the walls of Magilnada could be seen through the rain.
Grey and brown like the mountains from which its stones had been carved, the semi-circular outer wall curved from a cliff face that rose far above the plain. Square towers broke the wall every quarter of a mile, and there was only one gate, protected by fortifications twice as high as the rest of the wall. In the summer, when Gelthius had seen the city before on his three visits as one of Anglhan's turncranks, there had been a second city of tents outside, filled with traders, craftsmen and other visitors. Now the city was surrounded by a flat stretch of muddy grass, in places turned to bog by the rain. Little could be seen of the city within; a haze of smoke from forges and hearths hung over the city.
The stone-strengthened track they were on curved around to coldwards and joined a straighter road; paved with giant slabs, though now much cracked and overgrown with plants. To either side stretched the fields that fed the city, the flat expanse broken by clusters of low farmhouses and long barns. The landscape was still, the only movement the empty branches of scattered trees swayed by the strengthening wind.
Weighed on by such dismal surrounds and Noran's sombre mood, Gelthius tried his best to be happy. He was a free man, in reality and by the law of Salphoria. He had talked to his new comrades in the Thirteenth, and Gelthius had come to the conclusion that life in an Askhan legion was certainly not the worst thing that could have happened to him. And this current job, meeting others in Ullsaard's army that had sneaked into Magilnada, looked to be safer than what the future had in store for his fellow crewmates and rebels.
II
A group of twenty or so warriors stood guard at the gates, which were open. Obviously bored, they waved to Gelthius to stop the wagon and quickly surrounded it, peering into the bundles on the back and looking at the two men aboard with suspicion.
"What's your business here?" one guard asked. He was of typical Magilnadan stock, with the wiry frame and dark hair of a Salphor, and the flat nose and wide chin of a hillman.
"Trade," Noran replied quickly. He made no attempt to mask his accent; such a thing would have been pointless considering his narrow features, fair hair and long limbs easily identified him as Askhan to the bone.
"It's still winter," the guard replied. He walked to the back of the cart and prodded around for a while. He would find nothing other than Noran's personal belongings. The guard came back to the front of the cart. "You ain't got nothing to sell, and you couldn't carry much out of here in this, if you're buying."
"Contracts," said Noran. The man frowned and he continued. "You know, an agreement for a sale? There has been fierce competition for the grain come trading season again, what with everything that has been going on. While my rivals are warming their feet by their fires, I will be getting one step ahead of them."
"There's been some strange folk coming to the city of late," said another guard. "Never seen so many visitors at this time of year. What's going on out dawnwards?"
Gelthius felt his stomach tighten at so many questions. He kept his gaze firmly fixed on the hindquarters of the abada and let Noran do the talking.
"Oh, the usual sort of thing," said the noble. "Generals falling out with each other, governors trying to wriggle for position and power. Nothing to be worried about. Say, I hear there has been some trouble with rebels around here. Is that true?"
"Trouble?" said the first guard. "Nah, not so much. A few caravans get attacked and suddenly every merchant and his son thinks there's an army in the mountains waiting to pounce on them. "
"They've been quiet since the weather set in," added the third warrior, stroking grimy fingers through his forked ginger beard.
"Another good reason to get my business concluded as quickly as possible," said Noran.
"No need to hurry away too soon," said a fourth man. "We're always happy to welcome visitors with some coin in their pouches. If you're looking for lodgings, there's rooms at my cousin's place in the tanners' district. Good price too. Ask around for Helghrin."
"I will be sure to look into it," said Noran.
The guards stood around for a while longer. When they were convinced that this fancy Askhan merchant would provide no more entertainment, they waved the cart through the gate. Gelthius gratefully prodded the abada into motion and they passed into the city of Magilnada.
III
The shrine gardens had become the regular haunt of Noran and the rest of Ullsaard's infiltrators. Most days, the noble could be found sitting in the overgrown park at the centre of Magilnada, talking to one or more of his conspirators. While they swapped information regarding the city, the people of Magilnada went about their business, leaving small sacrifices or paying homage at the small altars dotted around the gardens, each dedicated to one spirit or another.
Thirty days had passed since Noran had entered the city, and he was now one of a hundred and fifty of Ullsaard's followers tasked with spying on the Magilnadans. Every few days, one of them would leave with a short report penned by Noran and another would return several days later with requests and questions from the generaclass="underline" asking about the dispositions of the guards; their numbers and equipment; names of prominent locals and chieftains; locations of barracks and armouries; sentry rotations; standards of alertness and discipline. Noran gathered all of this through the network of followers in the city, and through the odd bribe or conversation with locals.
On this particular day, Noran met with Gelthius again. The ex-debtor had secured himself a position in the craftsmen's league, on the back of his experience as a cobbler. In the short time he had been in the city, Gelthius had learnt the names of the most important tradesmen and the supplies they provided to Magilnada's chieftains and warriors. Today he had nothing new to report, and was about to leave when Noran told him to stay.
"What do you think our chances are?" said Noran. "You are a Salphor, you know how these people are likely to react once we take over."
"The men I talk to won't care one way or other," said Gelthius, sitting on the wooden bench beside Noran. He kept his voice low, nervous of the people walking past just a few paces away. "In fact, if the general comes in and starts buying up gear and such, they'll be happy. Magilnada's always been a strange place. These people are from all over — Ersuans, Salphors, hill folk, Anrairians. It's a place unto itself and I don't think they're bothered by who sits in the lord's hall."