Arm Of Galemar (Book 2) (9 page)

Marik instigated the technique while he waited,
requiring hardly three heartbeats now.  A great deal of practice had honed his
proficiency.  It became easier every time.  His aura tightened from its normal
ovoid, reforming in a shape matching his body.  This redirected the escaping
life force and coated his muscles with extra energy, becoming a source of fresh
stamina.  Under its influence he could run for a day or labor continuously,
though he had yet to do either.

Despite the increased ease with which he could use
Colbey’s technique, maintaining it during a sword fight still remained beyond
his ability.  The trick required a level of dedicated concentration he was
unable to sustain during combat.  Hopefully it would someday be second nature
enough that he could.  Using it during a fight was why he had pestered Colbey
into teaching it to him.  It would be a better option than the strength
working, which consumed his energy reserves far too rapidly for his taste.  He
couldn’t count on finding the opportunity to drop the working and replenish in
the midst of an all-out battle.

Dietrik opened his eyes.  “No good, I’m afraid.  I
can’t feel a bloody thing.”

“Keep at it.  It takes awhile to get the knack for
it.”

His rapier in hand, Dietrik promised, “I will try
later.  Let’s train like honest, traditional chaps meanwhile.”

For the remaining daylight, the two traded blows. 
Dietrik scored more often than usual.  Marik’s prediction had been dead on the
centerline.  With so many demands on his time for the winter already, he now
needed to add re-training in basic sword technique.

In the barracks he picked at his meatloaf.  It was
less appetizing for having been kept warm in its pan since noon.  Luiez’s
meatloaf never survived until dinner as well as his other dishes.

They sat alone at one table.  The depressing solitude
weighed on them.  Last year they would have been lucky to find two seats
together at this time of day.

The conversations around them were muted.  What little
Marik overheard centered on the morrow.  The men were wondering how many new
recruits the Ninth Squad would receive.  It was during this hushed meal that
Fraser entered the barracks, two people accompanying him.

Their former sergeant had been promoted officially to
Lieutenant of the Ninth, leaving Marik to wonder ever since who would be the
new Fourth Unit sergeant.  On Fraser’s left, Sloan glowered, dower as ever. 
His features clearly expressed an opinion that his time was being wasted.  To
Fraser’s right waited a women, unusual in that few were ever seen around the
town.

Marik recognized her for what she was.  A Fifth Squad
warrior woman, one apt to kill you with her eyes as easily as her weapon.  Her
hair fell in straight lengths to her shoulders, framing hawk-like features, but
otherwise her figure was only slightly less masculine than his fellow Ninth Squaders. 
Tunic, breeches, boots and a leather vest…the same attire as any other fighter
in the Kings.

She wore her attitude bare on her sleeve.  That also
fit with the other mercenary women.  The few conversations he’d tried to
initiate with them had all ended with them walking away without acknowledging
he so much as spoke.  He knew they could not
all
be from the same mold. 
Still, any current Fifth Squad women sharing common natures with Caresse had
yet to make themselves known outside their barracks.

Fraser called over the nonexistent crowd noise. 
“Everyone stop flapping your lips!  I have news for the Ninth as a whole!”

The men had already stilled at his entrance. 
Ordinarily, sarcastic calls or responses would have been forthcoming.  Not
tonight.  Everyone wanted to know what future the band had in mind for them.

“First off, the command building has decided that the
Ninth will receive no new recruits this year.”

“What?”  The exclamation rang in unison from over
twenty men.

“If the Kings try to spread the new recruits over all
the squads that lost men last year, every squad would
still
be short. 
Since the Ninth is one that took heavy damage, we won’t be getting anybody.”

Cries of, “What the hells kind of sense does that
make?” filled the air.  Marik spoke low under his breath.  “We can thank the
Noliers and that idiot Balfourth for that.”

Dietrik nodded while Fraser shouted over the indignant
men.  “They’ve decided to fill up the squads with lightest damage first so they
are fit for regular duty.  The rest of us get broken up for guard duty next
summer at the Arm of Galemar tournament.  They always want experienced men for
that duty anyway, so it fits.”

The men who had been riled all stopped, frozen for a
split instant, then rallied their voices anew, flipping to the opposite side. 
“It’s about time we finally get a
good
assignment!”  “It’s only what we
deserve, after last summer!”

Fraser allowed the men a moment to appreciate their
good fortune.  “So make sure all your gear is fit to be seen in the company of
the upper classes.  No one is to have the arse hanging out of their breeches
come summer!  That’s why we have shops in this town.  Now, to other business. 
For the Fourth Unit, Sloan is being promoted to fill the empty sergeant
position.”

If Sloan expected cheers, he kept his disappointment
well concealed when the room fell silent.  Knowing what he did about his new
sergeant, Marik’s feelings about
this
man having control over his life
out in the field were tangled.

“As for the First Unit, Kineta,” Fraser gestured with
one thumb at the woman, “is being transferred from heading Third Unit, Fifth
Squad to take over the sergeant duty.”

None of the men, especially those in the First Unit,
cared for that.  Several mean looks and meaner protests greeted this announcement.

Kineta spoke in her own defense.  “Feel free to
challenge me if you have a gripe.  If you can beat me, I’ll back down.  If I
beat you, you’ll be breaking your ass under my own special training regime for
the next five days.”

With that, she gracefully spun on one heel to walk out
the door.  Fraser approached Marik’s table while Sloan crossed to the Fourth
Unit’s bunk area, meaning to move his possessions to the officers’ quarters, no
doubt.  Without a word, Fraser dropped a paper scrap onto the table beside
Marik’s plate before following Kineta outside.

The scrawl on the paper read,
Appointment with
Commander Torrance: Second Noon Bell, Tomorrow.
  A mighty scowl reaching
his boots, Marik shoved the paper into his pocket, wondering what new complications
he was in for.  Tollaf must have pulled the commander into the fray, meaning
his time in the training areas would likely vanish from tomorrow onward.

Ill will filled the air in a cloying fog.  Men
muttered discontentedly, which nudged Marik from his irritation at the old
bastard and his cheap tricks.  He had never felt one way or the other about
women fighters…probably because Nyla, a woman who had jointly led his
orientation into the mercenary band, had easily been as much boot leather,
saddle soap, stained chainmail, whipcord and worn nail-heads as the man Mylor,
the other instructor.  After glancing around the room, he noticed Dietrik wore
a neutral expression.

“What do you think of her?”

“Too early to say,” Dietrik replied.  “She must be
good, else the officers would never have selected her.”

“Especially for a position outside the Fifth,” Marik
agreed.  “Why would they assign her to an all-male unit?”

“That’s what I want to know!” a new voice thundered
behind Marik.  He recognized Vance from the First Unit.  “What’s she doing
outside the whore squad?”

Several others joined Vance in his voluble discourse. 
Dietrik replied in a quieter voice.  “You’d have to ask the officers, mate. 
But she must be good.  No, she must be better than that!”

“What do you mean?”

“If you’re good, you can head a unit, so she must be
good.  But she’s going to have to head a unit
and
handle all these
muttonheads at the same time.”

Marik nodded in understanding.  “She couldn’t handle
both if she was only ‘good’.  If she
can
handle both.”

“That remains to be seen, but she wouldn’t have been
assigned if the brass did not think she were capable of it.  I suspect the
Fifth Squad is suffering from a rather high-quality problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“They must have more talent than they have positions
for.  Someone else in there must have deserved a sergeantcy, but was not ready
for the challenge Vance and his like will offer.”  After a moment of thought,
Dietrik concluded, “Or maybe Torrance thinks she has what it takes to move up the
ranks in the command building and wants to test her out here first.  Either
way, I don’t believe I’ll be challenging her.”

“Me either.”

The two headed back to their cots.  Behind them, irate
men fumed loud and long.

*        *        *        *        *

Marik exited the command building and made a beeline
straight across the Marching Grounds to the Dancing Drink.  It being
mid-afternoon, the new recruits had already been assigned.  Individuals could
be seen wandering the Row, each with the distinct air of a person exploring a new
place.  Only a handful of mercenaries spent time in the tavern common rooms
between lunch and dinner.

With a nod to Kerny, he took the stairs two at a
time.  He dashed down the hallway and barged into Kerwin’s room.

“Hey!  What’s the matter with you?”  Kerwin sorted
through his pack, searching for dice or cards or trident sticks if Marik knew
the gambler.

“I have a question for you.”

“And for that you charge around like a bull?”

“You said you wanted to go find a builder for your
inn, right?”

“An architect actually, but yeah.  Why?”

“They’re easier to find in the cities?”

“Of course.  Everything’s easier to find in the
cities.  So what?”

“So why not go to Thoenar?  I’d bet anything Spirratta
could do, Thoenar could do better.”

Kerwin sat back on his cot.  “In the first place,
Thoenar’s about halfway across the kingdom.  That’s halfway
diagonally
mind
you, not across to the side, and with no road direct from here to there.  I may
be wealthier than ever before, but if I go throwing it away in unnecessary
travel expenses, I’ll be as poor as I used to be in no time at all.”

“But you have to travel anyway, right?  The other day
you told us you’d finally decided to go ahead and find an architect after all.”

“Marik,” Kerwin chided, exasperated.  “There’s a
difference between going to Thoenar and going to Spirratta.  Spirratta is a
straight shot along the Southern Road.  Only two eightdays walking distance. 
Going to Thoenar from Kingshome means taking a ferry up the Spine, going
cross-country to pick up the major trade routes and finally reaching the
Capitol Highway.”

“All that aside,” Marik cut the air with his hand,
“where would you rather go to find your builder?”

Kerwin sighed.  “Thoenar, naturally.  And what does
all this have to do with anything?”

“What if I offer you an expense paid trip to Thoenar? 
You can find your man without having to pay a single coin from your own purse!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Torrance is assigning me to a bodyguard contract in
Thoenar next summer.  I need three others to go with me.  Dietrik’s coming, and
I want you and Landon, too.  I’d ask Edwin, but I’d rather have three frontline
fighters with one archer to support, rather than two and two.”

Kerwin shook his head.  “I’m not in the band any
longer, remember?  I’ve turned in my tag and retired from taking contracts. 
They’re dangerous for your health.”

“It’s only bodyguard duty for the tournament!  They
don’t come any easier than that!  And we won’t leave until halfway through
spring.”

Mild interest hovered over Kerwin.  “The contest for
the Arm, huh?”  But then he shook his head.  “That still doesn’t change
anything.  I’m not a King.”

“I already asked Torrance.  We’re so shorthanded he’ll
take any of the old fighters back.  You won’t have to go through any
re-entrance trials.”  Marik could see the gambler wavering.  “Think about it. 
Everyone says tournament duty is the softest contract there is!  You’ll get
paid for all the eightdays you’re there, and you can find a good architect at
no cost!”

“I don’t know.  I wanted to start building my inn this
summer.”

“Kerwin!  Look at the offer!  It’s a great
opportunity, and Landon will want to go if you’re on board.”

“You haven’t asked him yet?”

“I came straight over from Torrance’s office.  I
wanted to catch you before you left town.”

Kerwin mulled his argument, and Marik cast the hook he
had saved for last.  “Besides, it’s the Arm of Galemar!  Think how many people
will be there!  There’ll be endless games and who knows how many contestants. 
Everyone will be betting.”