Henlester’s thin lips thinned further, and barely seemed to move at all as he said, “The Brunesmen might slaughter them.”
Braylar smiled. “Nothing would please me more, as the Brunesmen would have to catch them first. Recapturing prisoners, even those on foot, takes time. We could do with some time.” He looked at Vendurro. “He is in your charge. If he attempts to flee, bludgeon him into submission. If he attempts it twice, slit his throat. He is not so valuable that we can afford to waste time recapturing.” And then back to Henlester. “There-you see how this works now?”
The captain addressed the underpriests and priestguard, all of them staring at their high priest. “You are free men again. I suggest you run and run fast. For those too injured to flee… hide well. I suspect the Brunesmen will be too busy pursuing us to pursue you. But then you can never be certain, can you?”
Then Braylar’s horse was off, and our party followed his lead, leaving the overturned wagon, dead horses, huddled prisoners, and slaughtered men in our wake, as the last of the sun’s light still curved over the horizon and lit the clouds and the world for a few more brief moments.
I looked over my shoulder. Henlester’s group was unsure what to do, one guard pointing back toward the woods, another toward the stone wall. At least the captain hadn’t killed them outright. That was something.
We rode in silence, picking up pace as darkness came on. I moved up to the front, just behind the captain and his lieutenants. They were arguing, though it was difficult to make out all of it over the clap and clomp of hooves on the earth.
Mulldoos said, “You think Gurdinn leaves the convoy behind and tries to ride ahead and run us down?”
Hewspear said something I couldn’t hear and I caught the last part of Braylar’s response, “-rigid bastard. Follows orders to the letter. So, I’d guess Brune told him the prime objective was the old cleric. He’ll ride hard. So we’ll ride harder.”
Mulldoos replied, “What of our own wagons? Maybe ought to stow them and circle back. Seems like-”
“No. We can’t risk that. You know this, yes?”
“I know Gurdinn leaves his own wagons, he’ll run us to ground, sure as spit.”
“And if he does, we’ll make him deeply regret doing so. We have the priest. We have our treasure.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at me, though I hadn’t even known he was aware I was there. “And we have the scholar to unriddle them, yes? So. We return with all of it, or we do not return. That is all. You are expert tacticians. I suggest you craft tactics to make sure it happens.”
Mulldoos grumbled something to Hewspear, who nodded slowly. They talked, or argued-it was difficult to tell one from the other with them-with barely any space between them or their mounts as they nearly knocked helms together.
I moved up along the other side of Captain Killcoin. He didn’t turn my way or address me, content to simply ride into darkness as quickly as was safe to manage. Braylar seemed to sense my unease, or at least my shoddy horsemanship. “Do not worry, Arki. They have good eyes for the night. Better than ours, I believe. Riding along a beaten trail like this, we are fairly safe. Provided no one thrusts a torch in their faces. And we don’t have to gallop or jump any walls.”
“Will we need to? Gallop or jump, that is?”
Braylar turned in my direction, his eyes lost in the shadows of his helm, face covered by the mail drape. It was a visage that did nothing at all to calm the nerves. “Hard to say. If we do, I expect we will be light one archivist when we are done.” His humor was difficult to read most of the time, but more so with only a little moonlight flashing on his eyes to indicate there was a man in the helm at all.
I supressed a shiver as best I could and we rode in silence, but I couldn’t resist staring at him.
Braylar glanced at me and said, “Out with it. Your unspoken questions are more often annoying than the ones you insist on jabbering, as they hang there invisible, fraught with portent and nervous energy. Speak.”
I looked over my shoulder briefly, spotting Soffjian and Skeelana near the rear of the company, far from listening distance. “Are you feeling… well?”
“I am alive. Beyond that, wellness is a luxury.”
“What I mean to ask is-”
“I know precisely what it is you mean to ask. I suspected as much before you asked it. As to how I feel, I will tell you this-the memories have not begun invading as yet, but I sense their scouts. Tentatively exploring, moving hidden and malicious. If I had a way to trap and destroy them I would. But even Lloi could never manage that.”
I stole another quick glance behind us. “Perhaps a Memoridon could. They already know you will be bombarded, so maybe you could-”
Braylar’s breath came out diffused, broken by the mail mesh. “They know far more than they should already. I will give them no more opportunity than that.”
I framed the next question carefully, turning it over in my mind and asking it a few different ways silently before settling on the one I gave voice to. “Would you be so reluctant if your sister wasn’t involved?”
“No. I would be more so. Far better to have a known enemy than an unknown one.”
“But how are Memoridons enemies? I still don’t understand this relationship. They answer to your Tower Commander as well, don’t they?”
“To him and only to him, Arki. Their agendas are frequently not synonymous with the rank and file soldier. And when it comes to matters of memory magic-with Bloodsounder and my own peculiar affliction clearly falling within that purview-that is their jurisdiction. I have no wish to be their pet, or their experiment, or part of some obscene research. Skeelana has been in me once already. I would not invite her there again unless I have exhausted all other options. And what is more, unlike the Syldoon soldier, they had no choice in their tenure in the Empire. They obey the Commander only because they have to. Coerced fealty is not loyalty.” He turned, and it was as baleful a look as could be cloaked in so much metal. “You would do well to remember that.”
I nodded quickly and he said, “Very good. Now be silent. I will simply have to endure your unasked questions harassing me. It will be a long night and a long ride.” And then he nudged his horse further ahead, plagued by whatever unseen devils assaulted him.
Hours drifted by under the light of the moon and its crown, as we stopped only briefly to water and feed the horses and take a breather ourselves before climbing back in the saddle. We left the Forest of Deadmoss and put its walled enclosure far behind us, passing farmsteads and sleeping villages, but mostly open fields.
My body was stiff and sore, but aside from the small wound on my side that burned abominably, I was not in horrible shape. I wondered how well the other Syldoon were holding up. And more importantly, how long their old captive would be able to continue. I’m sure he was far more accustomed to perfumed pillows than midnight flights. Still, he seemed to sit the saddle much better than I did, his posture and bearing erect, his white hair lit like snow in the moonlight. You would have thought we were stealing a king.
Falling back slightly, I found a place in the line mostly to myself, not speaking with anyone, and doing my best to stay out of the way.
I’d never ridden in the middle of the night before, and while I wouldn’t have guessed I could fall asleep bouncing and jostling so much, I had to pinch my wrist to keep myself from sliding out of the saddle. But after a while even that failed, and for long stretches I felt myself dozing, starting awake every time my chin dropped toward my chest, and then almost immediately after shutting my eyes again.
After one such start, I heard a voice next to me. “So, you’ve pulled the trigger twice now. How do you feel?”