"Their interests aren't ours, Lord."
"I was afraid you'd say that, too."
Haaken and Reskird looked like men standing at the graveside of a friend suddenly struck down. Ragnarson was so angry he could not speak.
Orders had come. After all these years.
Bragi compelled himself to calm down. "How many people know about this?"
"Just us. And the courier." Kildragon indicated the man who had brought the message from General Lauder.
"Reskird, take that sonofabitch somewhere and keep him busy. Haaken, hustle down to the barracks and sort out everybody who was in our company when we left High Crag. Get them out of the way, then tell the others we've got a full kit formation in two hours. Ready to march."
Haaken eyed him suspiciously. "What are you up to?"
"Let's just say a permanent commission as captain isn't a big enough payoff for selling out a friend. Do what I told you."
"Bragi, you can't... "
"Like hell I can't. I resigned from the Guild five minutes before that guy got here. You and Reskird both heard me."
"Bragi... "
"I don't want to hear about it. You gather up your Guildsmen and hike them up to High Crag. Us non-Guildsmen are going to take a hike of our own."
"I just wanted to say I'm going with you."
Bragi studied him a moment. "Not this time, Haaken. You belong in the Guild. I don't. I've been thinking about this a long time. I don't fit. Not in what it would be in peacetime. I want to do too much that the Guild wouldn't allow. Like lay hands on lots of money. You can't be rich and be a Guildsman. You've got to give it all to the brotherhood. You, you don't need the things I do. You belong. So you just stay. In a couple years you'll have your own company. Someday... "
Ragnarson's voice grew weaker as he spoke. Haaken was looking hurt. Bad hurt. He was trying to hold back tears.
They were brothers. Never had they been separated long. He was telling Haaken it was time they went their own ways. Haaken was hearing that he was not needed anymore, that he was not wanted, that he had been outgrown.
Bragi felt the pain too.
"I have to do this, Haaken. It's going to ruin me with the Guild, but I have to. I don't want to drag you down too. I'll be back after it's over."
"Stop. No more explaining. We're grown men. You do what you have to do. Just go... Get away... "
Bragi peered at his brother intently. He had injured Haaken's pride. The man behind that taciturn exterior never forgot that he was adopted, never let himself think he was as good as other men. The little rejections became big in his mind... Best to just end it now, before they said something that would cause real pain. "Gather your men, Haaken. You have your orders." Bragi walked away. There were tears in his eyes too.
He managed to round up enough mounts for his men, more by theft than legitimate means. He hustled his baffled troops out of town before news of the treacherous peace could reach their ears.
His outriders captured an enemy courier almost immediately. "Read this," he ordered his interpreter, handing him a captured dispatch.
"Let's see. All the usual greetings and salutations. To the Captain of the Host at Libiannin... It's from El Murid himself. Here's the gist. The Disciple is heading south to participate in the final solution to the Royalist problem. His own words. That's it. He probably sent several couriers, just in case."
"Uhm? He would be ahead of his messenger, would he? Boys, we're going to double-hustle now. Let's see if we can't have a little surprise waiting for the sonofabitch."
Haroun placed a gentle, restraining hand on Shadek's elbow. El Senoussi was ready to launch a one-man crusade against Hawkwind's Guildsmen. "It wouldn't do any good, Shadek. They have their orders, like them or not."
The Guildsmen were trooping aboard ships that had come to take them out of the city. An embarrassed and displeased Sir Tury had posted guards to make sure no Royalists joined the evacuation. The guards would not look their former comrades in the eye.
"So it goes, Shadek," Beloul observed. "The waters of politics run deep and dark. Occasionally there has to be a sacrificial lamb."
"Now's a damned poor time for you to go philosophical on us, Beloul," el Senoussi snapped. "Stop jacking your jaw and start finding a way out of this."
"I wonder what El Murid gave up to get us?" Haroun mused.
"I'm sure he gave the Guild and Itaskians their money's worth, Lord."
"I didn't think he cared anymore. He's ignored us lately."
"Maybe getting three-quarters killed gave him a more intimate perspective," Beloul suggested.
"Don't be facetious."
Hawkwind had stretched the letter of his orders and filled them in on current events. His news hadn't been good for the Royalist cause.
Haroun glanced across the far curve of the harbor. A pair of heavily fortified hills stood there. They were connected with the city by a long wall guarding a strip of coast only fifty yards wide. Many smaller ships were beached there. Quietly, Haroun's men were seizing those in hopes some Royalists could follow the Guildsmen to sea.
"How many can we get out?" Shadek asked.
"Maybe a thousand," Beloul replied. "If the Guildsmen's brave rescuers don't stand off the roads and keep us bottled."
Haroun glared at the troopships. "Think the treachery runs that deep?"
Beloul shrugged. "Time will tell, Lord."
One by one, the transports stood out to sea. Haroun, Beloul and el Senoussi watched in silence. Shortly after the last warped away from the quay a runner arrived.
He gasped, "Lord, there're warships ready to come into the channel."
"Uh-huh," Shadek said, congratulating himself.
Haroun felt the color leave his face. "What flag?"
"Scuttarian, Lord."
"And Dunno Scuttari is in the Disciple's bag. Beloul, forget your little navy. Looks like our only choice is to take as many with us as we can. Shadek, round the men up and send them to the wall. It won't be long."
"Maybe we can negotiate something," Beloul suggested.
"Would you bargain with them if the roles were reversed?"
Beloul laughed sourly. "I see what you mean, Lord."
Push as he might, Ragnarson could not match El Murid's pace. The Disciple reached Libiannin fifteen hours ahead but too late in the day to launch the attack he had come to enjoy.
Ragnarson's outriders captured a courier who apprised them of the true state of affairs.
"We keep going tonight," Bragi announced. "Maybe we can get there in time to do some good. I'm going to ride ahead."
He gathered a small band and surged ahead outdistancing his main force. He scouted Libiannin's environs, found what he wanted and rejoined his command as the sky began to lighten.
The hill he had selected overlooked the enemy main camp. Its base was just a mile from Libiannin's wall. The remains of an Imperial fortification crowned it. A small party of desert scouts occupied the ruins.
Ragnarson sent his sneakiest people forward. His main force reached the peak of the hill fifteen minutes later. The enemy there were all dead. "Perfect." He assembled his captains. "What I want is... "
El Murid and his people had their attention fixed on Libiannin. Ragnarson's men dug in for an hour before they were noticed. By then the Host had arrayed itself for the assault on the city.
Bragi went downhill, well below his foremost trench. He stood with hands on hips and said, "You folks go right ahead. Don't mind us." No one could hear, of course, but that was unnecessary. His stance conveyed his message. "But be careful about turning your backs on me."
He walked back uphill, listened to his men cuss and grumble as they deepened their trenches. They were not pleased by what they saw below. They were badly outnumbered.
One of Ragnarson's officers who was in the know asked, "What kind of standard should we show? We need something new if we just represent ourselves."