“Who needs to look smart to fight? I reckon their money goes into their swords.” The quality of the weapons each warrior carried had been the first thing I had looked for. “Workmanship like that doesn’t come cheap.” The ragged and stained garments worn by the mercenaries contrasted sharply with their armor and weaponry, ready for anything they might discover in this untrodden land. Most wore two swords as well as daggers in belts and in boot tops, while many carried bows, a mace or a spear and more besides. Well-honed metal scattered bright reflections from the hot sun, in sharp contrast to the dull sheen of plate and chainmail, newly scoured free of the biting rust that had gnawed at the metal on the long voyage, fed by the damp, salt air. I was having to burnish the steel of my mirror almost daily if I wanted to shave without cutting myself, but at least my own armor required little maintenance.
Arest started down the ladder into the ship’s boat and Shiv and I both involuntarily held our breath as rope and wood creaked with protest under his weight; the man wore a full hauberk and coif, greaves and vambraces, as well as carrying swords, a shield and a pack. He reached the boat and sat on a bending thwart without mishap and we breathed a sigh of relief.
“I wouldn’t fancy anyone’s chances of dragging that lot off the river bed if he went in!” Livak said cheerfully as she came to lean on the rail next to us. I turned to her with a smile. I’d seen precious little of her on this voyage as she’d rapidly allied herself with the mercenaries, leaving me tied by my oath to continued attendance on Planir.
“What do you reckon then? Do they look as if they’d be useful in a fight?” she asked me, a tentative smile on her face.
“I’d say so.” I had been watching the warriors covertly on the voyage, wanting to make sure of the quality of help I’d have at my back, if need be. Most had the cock-on-a-dunghill arrogance that any mercenary picks up along with a sword paid for by the season, but the intensity of the regular drills and exercises they had undertaken with unspoken consent during the crossing had won a measure of my respect. I certainly felt more comfortable with them than I would have with the Archmage’s agents, if the man Darni whom we’d met the previous year was anything to go by. Learning that individual was employing his abrasive arrogance in Solura to further Planir’s ambitions had been no loss. “They look as if they could take on most things and force a draw, if not an outright win. So, what’s the plan?”
“Let’s ask her,” Livak whistled sharply. Halice looked round, raising a hand in acknowledgment as two female mercenaries stopped her with some question. Both were shorter than Halice, one slightly built with masses of curly chestnut hair and a delicate, heart-shaped face curiously at odds with her chainmail vest and crested helmet. The other was one of the few mercenaries not in armor of some kind, wearing stained and patched black leathers with a surprising number of daggers about her person. Black-haired and with an open, friendly expression, she looked as if she should be running a market stall or a busy household rather than hiring out her services to the highest bidder.
Halice disposed of their query briskly and came down the deck to join us. Her gait was more even but still unbalanced, and I wondered again about the extent that her injury had been healed. Was this as good as her leg was to get? If so, her future looked as if it would be in organizing a corps rather than fighting with it. Perhaps this was her start in that line of work.
“So what’s the plan?” asked Shiv at once.
“Rosarn takes her scouts and begins quartering the ruins, trying to get a line on major landmarks and buildings, to get ourselves oriented correctly.” Halice waved at the woman in black who was now poring over a freshly pale parchment with a lad I recognized as one of Mentor Tonin’s pupils, called Parril or something similar. “Minare and his lads are to clear the wharf, try and get an anchorage prepared so we can bring the ship in close and not have to ferry people on and off with the boats all the time.” She looked sharply at Shiv. “That would be a cursed sight quicker and easier with some help from you mages, you know.”
I cursed and clutched at the ship’s rail as my vision suddenly swam and shifted, thickets of matted vegetation vanishing to show me stout wharves of dressed stone where now a crumbled bank slid crookedly into the water, sturdy houses lined up around a flagged market square, unsuspecting people busy about their everyday lives, all unaware of the approaching Elietimm threat.
“What is it?” Livak was watching me warily.
“D’Alsennin,” I said curtly, making a conscious effort to loosen my whitened knuckles. “I’m remembering things he knew here.”
A fleeting look of unhappiness came and went in Livak’s eyes.
“You really don’t like this, do you?” I challenged her, knowing it was probably a mistake but sick of the way she had been avoiding me.
“What do you think?” she spat back. “I know it’s not your fault and I’m sorry for it, but that aetheric magic killed Geris, and it killed Aiten. One of those Elietimm bastards got inside my head and nearly pushed me into madness as well. Just the thought of someone else’s mind lurking inside yours makes my skin crawl.”
“I’ve got it under control,” I replied, just about managing not to raise my voice in frustration and anger.
“I don’t think so.” Livak shook her head, her face pale beneath the freckles raised by sun and wind. “Last time we shared a bed, when you melted in passion, your eyes changed and you called me Guinalle again. I keep seeing someone else looking at me through your eyes, especially when you’re tired.”
I managed to hold my tongue, getting a firm grip on the outraged denial that had to be Temar’s, but that very realization brought the truth of Livak’s words home to me. I saw tears standing in her emerald eyes, belying the firm set of her jaw. I took a deep breath, knowing any more argument between us would be as destructive to us both as two eagles locking their talons in battle only to crash together on to the rocks below. A tremor threatened my composure as I realized I could not say whether the memory of such a sight in boyhood was Temar’s or my own.
Drawing a deep breath, I looked at Shiv, who was shifting from one foot to the other, looking acutely embarrassed. Halice’s expression was unreadable as always.
“Arest will be going with Lessay and his troop,” she continued, as if there had been no interruption. “We want to find some defensible position, somewhere with a vantage point on the shoreline would be best.”
“You want Den Rannion’s steading.” The words were out of my mouth before I could help myself and I gritted my teeth.
Halice looked at me, keen speculation in her hard eyes. “Where’s that? What’s it like?”
I looked landward but the unfamiliar lines of river and shore meant I could not place any of Temar’s memories. “So much has changed.” I frowned.
“The lay of the land shifts over the generations,” said Shiv thoughtfully. “It won’t be so marked on the ocean coast, where you come from, Rysh, but big rivers like this carve the land over time and the sea carries sand along the shoreline with every season.”
I ignored him. “It was a good stone-built hall by the end, with a sound perimeter wall and a gate-house. Even if the roof’s come in, I’d say the masonry should still be standing.” I blinked as judgments learned at my father’s elbow mingled oddly with Temar’s memories of Den Rannion’s sturdily built home. “It was on the other side of an inlet from the main wharf, with its own river access.”
“Let’s see if we can find it.” Halice turned and waved to Lessay, the third of Arest’s troop commanders. He headed for us without further ado, nailed boots ringing on the decking. About a full hand’s width taller even than me, he was thin as a rail, long blond hair pulled back into a ratty braid with humorous blue eyes and an indeterminate accent dominated by recent years in Lescar. I was still finding it hard to see how he and Arest managed to work together so well, given the contrast between the commander’s uncompromising use of his authority to achieve things and the way Lessay accomplished his results with good-humored jokes and encouragement.