However, the captain had been right out on the steppe. Eerily so. That was impossible to dismiss as coincidence. And he’d been far more certain before that violence occurred. So if he was equally convinced now…
Dressing as quickly as I could, I still clung to the thin hope that maybe he was mistaken, but dreading the reality that he likely wasn’t. Fortunately, I’d already stowed my writing supplies and clothes in advance of our planned trip, so it didn’t take very long. When I had it all together, I took one last look around, and was about to head to the door when I saw I’d nearly left Lloi’s curved sword behind. It was in its scabbard, leaning against the wall at the foot of the bed.
I knew I was likely to do more damage to myself than any opponent, but it would feel good to have some means of defending myself. Plus, I couldn’t simply leave it behind. Well, I could have-no one else would have known or cared. But it was hers, which made it mine by default now. So along it came. I set my writing case down long enough to buckle the scabbard belt around my waist, gathered everything again, and suddenly felt a sharp reluctance to leave.
There shouldn’t have been any pull at all-it wasn’t that great a room, and I’d only been there for a few days. Part of it was the fear of whatever unknown threat was not far beyond the door, the bloodshed I’d see or be a part of. But it was more than that. Maybe it was the fact that I was only slightly less nomadic than the Grass Dogs, never inhabiting a place for long. It was foolish-I knew the Grieving Dog was a temporary abode, and we wouldn’t be in Alespell forever. But even accustomed to being on the move, I wasn’t prepared to quit the room yet.
Vendurro’s voice startled me. “You about ready? Doesn’t matter, either way, time to go.” He poked his head in the door and saw that I had all my belongings and nodded. “Alright then. Let’s have at it.” And then he disappeared again.
The common room was a flurry of activity. Syldoon I’d only seen once or twice were carrying supplies, and doing it in a hurry, shouldering past each other, armor jingling, boots scuffling, cursing in harsh whispers when there was an impasse at the main door leading to the hall. It was amazing the whole inn wasn’t awake. Maybe it was-I heard a door open down the hall and someone start to tell the Syldoon to keep it down before being shouted at and shutting it quickly. Clearly, Braylar wasn’t intending to slip off in the night like wraiths or overly worried about appearances now. He must have been certain indeed to put all his soldiers into action before dawn. That didn’t bode well at all.
I held my writing case to my chest, a satchel slung over my shoulder, conscious that I was the only unarmored man in the room. And the only one standing still.
Braylar marched out of his quarters, and I noticed immediately that he was more heavily armored than at any point I’d seen him. Where he’d worn his scale cuirass underneath a tunic both in the grass and during the battles around the ruined temple, he now had on a mail byrnie with a lamellar cuirass on top, and vambraces of an unusual splinted design on his forearms, and splinted greaves on his lower legs. Clearly, he was expecting a full-on fight, and in no hurry to disguise his intention to meet it head on. Captain Killcoin said something quickly to Hewspear, who nodded and headed out into the hall as well. The captain saw me and strode over, eyed me up and down, stopping only briefly on Lloi’s sword. I almost expected him to tell me to unbuckle it right then and there, but instead he said, “Ahh, so good to see a seasoned veteran in the command room. Always inspires the troops. Given that you are ready for the road, I take it Vendurro briefed you.”
I looked around quickly, bearing in mind Hewspear’s point about revealing only what was necessary about Bloodsounder. “Vendurro told me violence was coming. And seemed certain. Or certain you were certain. Which amounts to the same thing, I suppose. Is it like… the Green Sea, then? You are certain?”
He took a step closer-his breath wasn’t as fouled by ale as it had been of late, but wasn’t free from the vapors either. He managed a whisper and growl together, “Very little in this world is certain, but my temper is one of them if you don’t keep your voice down. As to what is coming, it is enough that I am unwilling to gamble on being wrong.”
Two soldiers bumped into us, carrying the case of scrolls-my treasure! — and mumbled and apologized to the captain before colliding with the table.
“I’ve seen newborn calves with better balance. Careful, you whoresons.”
One said, “Sorry, Cap!” and they hustled out, letting another Syldoon in the room before tromping into the hall.
I was about to ask Braylar what we were doing, but Mulldoos appeared next to us and I shut my mouth. “Boys are near to ready, Cap. Main battalion are heading out with you, the remainder are holding back with the wagons, like you ordered. Got ourselves a problem, though.”
“I imagine we have several. Anytime you rouse the troops in the middle of the night to tell them plans have moved up, many things can go awry. What, specifically, are you referring to?”
Mulldoos glanced over his shoulder, and seeing no other soldiers coming or going, replied, “Got to figure we’re up against Brune’s bunch, right? I mean, you didn’t say as much, but then you didn’t have to. Now, the gates are supposed to be open just after dawn, Fair hours. But if it’s that prick Gurdinn or any other Bruneboys come calling, even if we leave their corpses in the street without a casualty and break for a gate, real good chance we might find it shuttered tight. But even if we win free, the wagons and stragglers will be, well, straggling. Maybe we should have them trail close behind. If it’s a lock in, our best chance is to break free in force.”
Braylar nodded. “Perhaps so. But while the good baron has no doubt attempted to gather some intelligence about how many Syldoon he has in his city, we’ve done an even better chance of disguising our number and keeping ourselves scattered. He will be expecting us to try to flee in a group. Those wagons are going to go slower. Even if we abandon some supplies, the bulk even, we’re not leaving the recent cargo. Too big for horse, so wagon it is. If most of our force litters the street with their bloodied soldiers and makes for a gate, locked or otherwise, they will not be looking for the rest to come in a smaller party.”
“Fair point, but-”
“I wasn’t finished, Lieutenant. Mobility is our greatest ally. Always was and will be. So we ambush the ambushers and take flight, but the wagons would only slow us down. Our one chance to really see them out as well is to take the risk of them leaving separately once the gates are clear, and reconnecting well outside Alespell. Once we’ve assured ourselves we have lost or beaten any pursuit.”
Mulldoos nodded vigorously. “So they go separate. Fine. But we should at least provide some other kind of diversion. Beyond just us killing Bruneboys in the streets, I mean. If we do win free-”
“When.”
“When we win free, then, even if they ain’t looking real hard for more Syldoon, they won’t be half-asleep at the gates neither. Might be checking wagons real close. I would. And you’d check them twice as close.”
Braylar nearly smiled. “Very well. What did you have in mind?”
When Mulldoos didn’t reply right away, it was obvious he had been operating in extemporaneous mode. Once again, my words came out before I’d examined them carefully beforehand. “The ripper.”
Both men looked at me in surprise, clearly having forgotten I was standing right there. I pushed on, “The other day, I saw a ripper caged near the main plaza. On display. About as terrible a creature as Lloi described, maybe more so. Tore a boy’s hand clean off like it was… a page from a book. If someone freed it…”