Vendurro yelled out my name again. I pulled the front flap aside, and croaked, “Here.”
“That you, Arki?”
I nodded, then realized he couldn’t see me, and said, “Yes. Me.”
“What are you doing out here in a dark barn by yourself? Roping the unicorn?” He laughed at his own joke, getting closer. “No need to head to the barn, Arki. You’re among military men, not plaguing librarians. Hells, even librarians and priests got to be forgiving of a man tending to his pent-up business, right?”
I didn’t respond, glad my face was in the shadows so he couldn’t see me shine up bright and red. Getting caught with my manhood in my hand would have been preferable to him stumbling on me speaking privately to the captain’s sister. I didn’t know what to say, and half expected Soffjian to speak up, incriminating me completely, though I wasn’t technically doing anything wrong, as she had sought me out, not the other way around.
Looking behind me, I feared the worst, but she was gone.
Vendurro didn’t wait for a response anyway. “Well, no time to finish, more’s the pity for you. Pull your hosen up and get to the inn. Cap’s got something he wants to talk to all of us about.”
I grabbed my writing case and started fumbling over the seat. “What is it?”
“Didn’t say. On account of wanting to talk to all of us. Inside.”
I jumped down, the springs on the wagon squeaking as it rocked gently back and forth.
Vendurro looked at the case and then back up at me. “Like to write about it after you’re done, do you?” Even in the dark I could see he was still smiling.
“What? No. That’s why I came out here. I forgot my case.”
He nodded in exaggerated fashion. “Sure it is. Why, sure.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me along. “Come on then. You know the Cap don’t like waiting none.”
I hazarded a quick glance over my shoulder before the barn disappeared from view as we walked around the corner of another building. Soffjian was nowhere to be seen.
“Shouldn’t we lock the barn doors, or shut them or something?”
Vendurro looked around the deserted village and said, “Think we’re good.” Then he punched me in the arm and broke into a jog, calling over his shoulder. “Come on!”
We ran down the empty street toward the inn, and crossed over the short stone bridge.
When we got inside, I knew it wouldn’t be raucous, as it was a defunct inn with only half the company bedding down there, but I still expected to encounter boisterous jokes, someone spinning a tale of some kind, or dicing and cursing. And probably whatever stock of ale and wine they still had left on the table.
But it was strangely quiet. At first, I thought it might just be the spell of staying the night in a plague village, but then I saw the faces of the men, some talking to each other, but most staring into their cups or at the rafters.
Clearly something was wrong.
I saw Vendurro stiffen. “Alright, you bastards, what is it?”
The three closest soldiers looked at each other and Vendurro raised his voice. “Out with it, straight away.” While he was younger, and smaller framed, he had obviously been paying close attention to Hewspear and Mulldoos and did a fair approximation.
The soldier in the middle stood up and, looking very uncomfortable, said, “Cap’s… taken ill. Like he does sometimes. You know… ill.” He pointed up the stairs. “Lieutenants took him up there. Is it bad, Ven? Looked bad and-”
“That’s Sergeant, Craslo,” he snapped. “Sergeant. And seeing as how I just got here and had to inquire with you as the whats and wheres, I’m thinking you’re asking a plaguing stupid question. Ask another one, and I’ll set you to digging latrines.”
Craslo looked at the open door then back to his sergeant. “It’s night.”
“Say one more plaguing dumb thing, you lippy limp cock, one more, and you’ll be digging them in the dark with your hands. Doesn’t need to be a question, just the next dumb thing out of your plaguing dumb mouth. Go on then.”
Wisely, Craslo held his tongue. It might not have been Mulldoos barking at him, but it was an officer, and an incensed one at that.
Vendurro looked at me, said, “Come on!” and started taking the stairs two at a time. Balancing my writing case, I didn’t trust my balance or dexterity, so I hurried as fast as I could to keep up. I reached the landing, and saw another Syldoon standing guard in front of a room at the end of the hall. He looked at Vendurro, eyes wide.
“Head downstairs,” Vendurro ordered. “No need to be crowding the whole lot of us up here. Go get a drink.”
The soldier nodded, clearly relieved to be relieved. Without another word, he grabbed the railing and hustled down the stairs. You would have thought he was fleeing a fire.
Vendurro scratched at the tuft on his chin, glanced at me, suddenly seeming less confident than he had before the other men, looking young and just as nervous as I felt. That should have been comforting, but only served to make me feel worse.
He straightened his shoulders, pushed the door open, and said, “Vendurro and Arki, coming in.”
The room must have belonged to the innkeep or been reserved for whatever prominent fieflord happened to stop for the night, as it was larger than expected, though mostly empty. A few cabinets thrown open, an empty chest with the lid up, a wardrobe, doors also open, and in the center, a large canopy bed, the posts carved with intricate scenes of deer being chased round and round by hounds and hunters. And in the center of that, the captain.
Hewspear and Mulldoos were standing there, looking down at him. Braylar was sprawled on his back, limbs outstretched, breath shallow and labored. Just as he had been in the Green Sea.
“He collapsed, didn’t he?” I asked. “Downstairs?”
Mulldoos kept his eyes locked on Braylar. “What gave that away? The fact he’s lying there senseless, all collapsed like?”
I tried not to sigh or roll my eyes, despite the fact that he wasn’t looking at me. “What I meant was, the men, your men, they saw him collapse, correct? Which means they aren’t-”
“Yeah,” Mulldoos shouted, “the men, our men,” he mimicked, “plaguing saw him go down, you dumb-”
Hewspear interrupted, “What Arki is trying to suggest, I think, is-”
“You taking his side, that it? This stupid little shit?”
Hewspear shook his head. “There are no sides to take. And you would scarcely find anyone except a Syldoon more overeducated than our scribe here. But the men have seen the captain go down several times now. And might be less than comfortable with that.” He turned to me. “Is that in fact what you were driving at, Arkamondos?”
I nodded. “They looked…” Having already angered Mulldoos, I searched for the right word.
“Spit it out, you horsecunt!”
“Spooked,” Vendurro offered. “They looked spooked. And with good plaguing reason. With Lloi gone, and that rogue witch not being one at all, well…”
Mulldoos looked ready to verbally assault him, or me, or even Hew-spear, jaw clamped tight, muscles bulging in his thick neck, eyes big and wild, seeming even wilder under those misplaced pale eyebrows. But instead he took out his rage on one of the carved posts, kicking up dust, and moving the bed several inches. If anyone else had been sleeping there, he would have bolted upright. Even a drunk would have at least rolled over and slurred a complaint. But the captain didn’t even stir.
“Never thought I’d miss that whore, Lloi. Plague me. Plague him.” Mulldoos dropped down on a stool, not caring that it nearly broke with his bulk. For the first time since I’d known him, he didn’t sound surly, angry, or argumentative. He sounded defeated.
Eyes still on the captain, Mulldoos asked me, “How long was he out like this? In the grass? Before Lloi finally showed her sorry ass and muddled through helping him?”
It seemed a bad time to state the obvious-that her muddling was the only thing that kept him upright and stopped the troops from questioning his status the last few years. “Not long. A few days? He started showing signs of the sickness earlier though.”