Storm Approaching: Part One of Mercenaries

By Brian Libby

I’m a retired history teacher living in Minnesota. I was born in Maine in 1949, studied at Johns Hopkins and Purdue (got my PhD in 1977; my fields are military history, European diplomatic history, and modern Germany), and taught at a prep school in Minnesota (Shattuck-Saint Mary’s) from 1978 to 2016. I began writing the Mercenaries books in 2001. I got a fine agent for Storm Approaching, but even fine agents do not always sell books, so after a long wait on one major publisher—the first reader approved it, the second did not—I decided to publish the book myself. There are three more volumes in the series: Gold and Glory, Resolution, and The Free Lands. I have also published And Gladly Teach, a satirical novel about a boarding school, and Hodgepodge, a small book of humorous essays on many topics.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 4, 2019
• ISBN: 9781546277477

Brian Libby

I'm a retired history teacher living in Minnesota. I was born in Maine in 1949, studied at Johns Hopkins and Purdue (Ph.D. 1977; my fields are military history, European diplomatic history, and modern Germany), and taught at a prep school in Minnesota (Shattuck-St. Mary's) from 1978 to 2016. I began writing the "Mercenaries" books in 2001. I got a fine agent for "Storm Approaching," but even fine agents do not always sell books, so, after a long wait on one major publisher--the first reader approved it, the second did not--I decided to publish the book myself. There are three more volumes in the series--Gold and Glory, Resolution, and The Free Lands. I have also published And Gladly Teach, a satirical novel about a boarding school, and Hodgepodge, a small book of humorous essays on many topics. Why do I write? I could quote J.R.R. Tolkien ("... the desire to try his hand at a really long story that would hold the attention of his readers, amuse them, delight them, and at times maybe excite or deeply move them") or I could quote Samuel Johnson ("No man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for money"). I agree with both these masters.

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Copryright © 2019 . All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse  02/01/2019

ISBN: 978-1-5462-7721-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-7747-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019900803

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The maximum use of force

is in no way incompatible

with the simultaneous use

of the intellect.

von Clausewitz

On War, I.i.3 (tr. Howard & Paret)

CONTENTS

1.     AUDACITY

2.     FORMATION

3.     SIR BRANLOR

4.     MOVING ON

5.     THE SILVER HAWKS

6.     FIRST JOURNEY

7.     TO THE CAPITAL

8.     AT THE CAPITAL

9.     STATECRAFT

10.   OPPORTUNITY KNOCKS?

11.   SHIPS AND RUINS

12.   ROYALTY

13.   FRIENDS AND ENEMIES

14.   RAPID EXIT

15.   THE RED RATS

16.   ELOQUENCE

17.   WHITE LIES

18.   FIRST BLOOD

19.   CAMP AND CASTLE

20.   SEX AND THE SINGLE MERCENARY

21.   COURT MARTIAL

22.   THE PELICANS

23.   THE MAIL ARRIVES

24.   DEPARTURE

APPENDICES

1.   Songs

2.   The Calendar

3.   Money

4.   The New Empire

5.   Rulers of the New Empire

6.   Organization of the Pelicans Mercenary Regiment, March 987

7.   On the Maps

8.   On Sand Foxes

9.   Pronunciation

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

MAPS

a.   The New Empire

b.   The Calamian Isles

1.   AUDACITY

Her feet pounded on the cracked stone slabs. Daylight glimmered enticingly around the half-open door maybe ten yards ahead, but the pursuit sounded closer.

I’ve got to make it. Sixteen is too young to die.

Her foot caught on a broken pavement; she crashed into the rough stone wall. A moment later she heard a thud behind her. Dazed, she turned and saw in the dim corridor the prone figure of a creature that vaguely resembled a man. It too had stumbled.

Is it dead? Probably just stunned. I’m lucky.

Walking slowly, shaking her head to clear it, she squeezed past the door into the light of a beautiful June day, thinking that the creature, if it revived, could not pass the narrow opening.

Andiriel! Are you all right?

The shout came from a grove. She ran to the trees and found two young women, dressed like herself in plain green smocks.

See, I told you I’d do it.

You’re brave, Andi, said one.

Your arm’s all scraped, said the other. What happened?

I tripped in the dark, but I’m all right. She glanced anxiously at the ancient building behind her. Let’s go back.

Did you find anything? Any treasures?

I found this.

She held up the metallic object she had taken from a stone table just before hearing the noise in the corridor: oval, about four inches long, with dirt-caked runes etched on one side.

What is it?

It’s, uh, it’s…I don’t know, Jin.

The mages can tell us. Let’s go to the Wizards’ House right now. Jin’s black eyes were wide with excitement. Maybe it’s magical.

Good idea.

They left the trees and walked the half mile back to town. Jin led, skipping and humming. The other girl walked with Andiriel.

Are you really all right, Andi? You’re bleeding a little.

I’m just bruised, Nel. It was dark and I tripped. I’ll tell you more later.

She was starting to feel proud and foolish at the same time. She’d shown her friends she wasn’t a coward. But she had almost… Better not to think of it now.

They entered Javakis through the Imperial Gate, so named since the auspicious day fourteen years before when the Emperor and Empress really had visited the town. They made their way to Gold Street, largely empty on a Sunday, where stood the simple stone building that everyone called the Wizards’ House, although its proper name was the Javakis Chapter of the Federated Society of the Arcane. (With barely 10,000 people, Javakis was just large enough to merit the a Wizards’ House and a city wall.)

You wait, said Andiriel. If Vomaxx is on duty he’ll get mad if we all go, ’cause he knows we won’t buy anything, the old grouch. Her friends agreed and went across the street to get some ginger-nuts.

The bearded, brown-haired man behind the long counter smiled when he saw her.

Hello, young mistress. Come to see Garjon on your day off ? Or did you want something to turn Mistress Verda into a toad?

Mistress Verda isn’t bad if you know how to treat her. The Chief Matron is the one to beware of. I’m glad you’re here, master. Look, I found this and I don’t know what it is. Do you?

Garjon studied it for a moment and said, very seriously, Andiriel, where did you get this? And what did you do to yourself?

She gulped; then she met his eyes and said, In the ruins near the Round Pond. I explored a little. I found this thing on a stone table, and then I heard a noise, so I ran away, and the noise followed. I almost fell down, and whatever was behind me tripped and knocked itself out. It was like a big ugly man with scaly skin.

You… Garjon stared at the big girl in her green Institute smock. You went into Jagar’s Chapel and almost got caught by a gorth? Andiriel, what got into you?

My friends dared me to. I’m real brave, huh? Or maybe I’m dumb. But I did it. What did I find, Garjon? I told you the truth, so you help me now.

The mage was still frowning, but he relaxed a bit after looking at her earnest face. "This is a changer, or, in Old Imperial, a samdar. It turns stored magical energy into something else. Wait just a bit. And put some salve on your arm." He handed her a jar and went through a red curtain into the back of the building.

She applied the ointment and looked around at the shelves and bottles. She and her friends had been here often; the Wizards’ House was one of the more interesting places in Javakis and Garjon was always friendly. She remembered, too, how in her younger days she had visited this building with fearful excitement. Everyone said that if you misbehaved, something awful might happen to you (such as being imprisoned in a beaker for a hundred years). Certainly nobody in his right mind would dare to steal anything from the Wizards’ House.

She knew where everything was; today she noticed something new: books. Taking a big volume from a shelf, she set it on a table, opened the brown leather cover, and read, The Researches of Otacilion Tambus Concerning the Last Days of the Old Empire.

Garjon came back.

You have books here, master. We don’t have any at the Institute yet.

Yes—a shipment just a few days ago. They’ll replace scrolls and codices, eventually. The Emperor has commanded that a press be set up in every town, even this one. These came from the Capital, of course.

So what did you find out, master? She put the big book back on its shelf.

"Your samdar is at least 200 years old and empty of magic. It is very well-made."

Can I keep it? I mean, is it really mine?

Garjon smiled. Whoever used it last will not be coming in to claim it. It’s certainly treasure-trove, my dear. Would you like to sell it?

How much is it worth?

The Society can give you G95. In fact, G100. These things are not common.

"A hundred gold?"

It’s a fair price. It will be worth about G300 after we re-infuse it and discover the exact word that makes it work… Andiriel, are you all right?

"Master, we’re paid a silver a week. That’s, uh, it’s… it’s… it’d take me twenty years to earn that much!"

The rewards of courage, Andiriel—or of stupidity, as you said. You took the risk and did the deed, now the profits are yours. But if I buy this, you must promise never to go into Jagar’s Chapel again. Gorths are bad enough, and there may be worse things in there.

I promise, Garjon. Orphans’ Honor. She raised her right hand, her index finger folded behind her thumb, the other three up. Oh, this is so great… but I can’t carry all that money around, or keep it in my room.

I’ll put it on account. There is no need to tell Mistress Ellana, but you may not have over S5 a week until you’re ready to leave the Institute. Is that all right?

Yes, master. I’d save most of it until then anyway. But could I have a bit now?

Here’s S5, and a receipt for the rest. It should be a great help when you’re on your own in a couple of years. You’ll get a fine husband, or have the means to open a shop.

(2)

Andiriel stood outside the Wizards’ House in a reverie. A hundred gold—why, you could buy a horse for ten! She was still standing there when her friends ran up.

I sold that thing—it’s called a changer, she told them. It’s sort of magical.

Then it must have been Garjon, not Vomaxx, said Jin. How much did you get?

Look. She held out the coins that bore on one side the portrait of a chubby, beardless man wearing a crown, surrounded by the words Grellin the Fourth, E.W.G.

The girls gaped. She gave one coin to her dark-haired friend. Your share, Jin.

Jin squealed. Thanks, Andiriel. Mmmm—I’ll meet you back home. I’m going to get some rouge. She scampered off towards a shop.

You get two, she said to Nella.

The pale, plump blonde girl hesitated, then started to cry. I can’t take them, Andi. Jin and I just teased you about going into that nasty place because you talk about adventures and heroes and we wanted to make you look silly. We never thought you’d actually do it. I felt awful. So did Jin, a little.

Andiriel kissed Nella on the cheek. But it turned out all right. I really got a lot more than this. Garjon is keeping it for me, but don’t tell Jin yet. Here. She pushed the coins into her friend’s hand. Take ’em, Nel. I want you to.

Nella smiled and put the coins in her pocket.

They got back to the Institute at sundown and entered the residential building to find Mistress Verda looking expectantly at both the door and the large clock. Just in time, young ladies. None of you need any washing duty, do you? Andiriel, what did you do to yourself?

I tripped, mistress.

Clumsy as usual, I see. Is your arm very sore?

Some, mistress. I stopped at the Wizards’ House. Master Garjon gave me some salve.

Go and wash it, and I’ll get you some gauze to wrap it in. She shook her head. What is going to become of you in two years?

I think about that a lot, mistress. I really do.

2.   FORMATION

Andiriel and her fellows were fortunate. Orphans, foundlings, waifs, they might have starved or met worse fates. But thanks to the benevolence of the Emperor and a philanthropic businessman named Rellas Shai, they were in the Institute for the Salvation of the Homeless: taught carefully, clothed decently, fed well, and cared for by people who combined strictness with fairness. Master Shai, who paid half the expenses, did get some return for his kindness: at age ten the girls learned to make lace, and from then on their schedule was fixed: rise at seven, cleaning and breakfast, school from eight until twelve-thirty, dinner, four hours of work in the lace factory, and, after supper, study, and games, and bed at ten (or eleven, for the older girls). Sunday was free, after morning chapel.

Most girls became very skilled. The lace was excellent. They were paid about one-fifth of what Master Shai would have had to pay adults.

(2)

One afternoon a few weeks after Andiriel’s adventure in Jagar’s Chapel, while the girls were busy at their tables in the factory, someone yelled, Look! Glory Knights!

Work stopped. The matrons, far from trying to restore order, joined the general rush to the windows.

Andiriel used her strong arms to push forward until she had a good view. Riding by in ordered ranks were thirty men, each wearing mail under a red surcoat emblazoned with a golden sword encircled by a crown. These were followed by men on smaller horses—younger fellows in white surcoats—and five baggage wagons.

A collective sigh arose from the dozens of women and girls crowding the windows. Andiriel and many others called out, Long live the Order!

They’re going to Red Tooth Pass, said Nella.

Yes. Andiriel’s eyes eagerly followed the cavalcade. The one with the gold star on his sleeve is a Professed Knight and the others are Knight Brothers, or esquires—the ones in white.

Traffic along the avenue made way for the riders. People cheered; the men removed their caps.

Aren’t they magnificent? said Andiriel. And their horses are so big and beautiful.

Jin giggled. So are the riders. Wouldn’t you like to marry one, Nella?

If only I could.

You all know that the Knights of the Sovereign Order are celibate, said a matron, whose own eyes had never left the cavaliers. All right, ladies, back to work.

Andiriel, Nella, and Jin were at the same table.

Would you like to meet a Glory Knight, Andi? asked Nella.

Jin laughed. "Andiriel wants to be one, don’t you?"

She had a faraway look in her eyes as she missed a stitch. I would if I could. They’re so wonderful. They guard the Emperor, they protect us, they’re brave and strong. And their lives aren’t boring.

I’d like to see the Emperor again, said Jin. I was too little when he came to Javakis. Maybe we’ll go to the Capital some day. It’s not so far.

It’s 200 miles, said Nella. That’s far.

I’ll get there some day, said Andiriel. "I’ll see our foster-father, and the palace, and the Glory Knights, and… and… Well, I’m not doing this all my life."

One of the matrons passed the table. You won’t be doing this for very long at all if you don’t do it better, young miss. A copper off for that poor work. Less talk and start again.

Jin laughed; Nella frowned. What are you going to do when we leave, Andiriel? asked Jin a moment later. Are you going back to the chapel for more gold?

Maybe you should.

Me? I’m no hero. I’m going to apprentice to the Javakis Players. I already talked to the manager. It’ll be fun. They tour all over. That’s how I’ll get to the Capital.

You’ll be a good actress, Jin, said Nella. I’m sure you will. I’m getting married. Mistress Verda said that Mistress Ellana has had three men asking about me for their sons.

That’s what you want, said Andiriel.

Oh, yes, Andi, I do. My own home and some children. I love children.

I know. I’ve seen you with the biddies. (She referred to the youngest orphans.) I’m always afraid I’ll drop one.

Why don’t you go to the Higher Schools, Andiriel? Jin asked. You could get in easy, with your brains. You read the dictionary, didn’t you?

She smiled. I did read the General Lexicon, but we won’t have a real dictionary until the Commission finishes work and prints it up. She did some stitches. I love words, like Nel loves kids. They’re beautiful and powerful.

Join the Federation, learn magic words, said Jin. Or the Church, and learn holy ones.

I don’t think I can be cooped up much longer. I want to see things and do something new. I just wish I knew what. Let’s be quiet now. Master Shai deserves good work.

(3)

She bought scrolls, and continued to read many others in the Institute library— tales of adventure, and legends, and history. (It was sometimes hard, even for the authors, to make clear the difference.) She found herself envying the people she read about who had been brave and daring, even though their lives had often been short. What was her future? She could not decide, especially after her adventure in Jagar’s Chapel. I almost died… I made a fortune… I was brave… I was stupid… I could do things… I was lucky… But her predominant feeling was that she had lived more in those few moments than in all her previous life and that she might go mad if she didn’t get out and do something. She was certainly not a future lace-maker. She did her best, but her best was merely adequate: she was not deft at fine work.

Inspired by the tales she read, she bought a bow and practiced in the walled garden behind the main building. Awkward with a needle, she was more deft with arrows. Many of the girls chuckled. Jin at least did not laugh (much), and Nella would sit on the grass and watch her friend toiling away.

What’s it for, Andi? Not many girls are mercenaries.

Oh, of course not. But I’m not going to make lace all my life, or work in a tavern, or… Oh, by the sun! I missed again.

Girls left the Institute by their nineteenth year. The great majority chose to marry suitable young men (and some not so young) of the artisan or petty-burgher classes, men with whom the Institute thoughtfully made arrangements. Some chose to go to the Higher Schools, or to enter the Church or the Federated Society. A few, like Jin, chose other things. What about her?

(4)

At the beginning of her final year at the Institute Andiriel was chosen to be a prefect, one of the four girls to whom was entrusted the management of a wing in the residence hall. This honor surprised many girls. Apparently the matrons perceived qualities in her that her peers had not noticed. Others might have gotten a hint as to what those qualities were by paying attention to what Jin did after the prefects for the coming year were announced: she moved heaven and earth to transfer from Andiriel’s wing to one that would have a different prefect. (Nella, Andiriel’s roommate, stayed put.)

The ensuing year was one that the young women now under Andiriel’s supervision did not easily forget (although those who spoke of a reign of terror were surely exaggerating). She simply enforced all the rules. For example, girls were supposed to devote themselves to silent study in their rooms from 8:00 to 9:45 PM. This usually meant only relative quiet: less scurrying about, gossip, and general malingering than usual. But in North Wing during these hours each girl was at her desk and the silence of a tomb prevailed. Regulations said that girls were to have their beds neatly made and their trash emptied before breakfast. Not everyone took this literally, except in North Wing: Andiriel inspected the rooms while the others were eating, and woe betide the inhabitants of messy ones. In her first week as prefect she assigned twenty hours of detention, six of cleaning, and four of kitchen work. In a couple of extreme cases she closeted herself with offenders for a few words. They were apparently very well-chosen words, for repeat offenses were rare.

There was also the strange case of Myria, a fifteen-year-old whose marks and conduct were so atrocious that rumor said she was to be dismissed. The Chief Matron moved her to Andiriel’s wing, where a miracle took place: Myria received second-level honors for the quarter and had only three demerits.

At the end of that quarter four girls urgently requested transfers to other wings and eleven requested transfers in. It was all very mysterious, but the matrons left well enough alone. They didn’t quibble with success. Mistress Perra, housemother of North Wing, told the Chief Matron that Andiriel was the best thing that had ever happened to her, for her own supervisory work was largely eliminated. Perra had never seen such intelligent application of energy in the service of scholarship and order.

Three months into the Andiriel regime North Wing posted the third-highest average in the history of the Institute and won the netball tournament. The next Saturday night Andiriel and Nella brought from town a mountain of food, including three gallons of root-tea, and North Wing had a party (for which Andiriel footed the bill). Even those girls who had muttered imprecations behind their prefect’s back admitted there were some advantages to the system.

But even prefects make mistakes.

3.   SIR BRANLOR

So you’ll be working here, eh? Boggus, the afternoon overseer of the Happy Tankard, inclined his bulk towards the strapping girl who stood before him. What did you do?

They decided I’m not much good at making lace any more, Master Boggus. My hands are too big. Too many re-starts. And there was something else. She hung her head, I… I’m learning archery, you see, and… well, somehow an arrow went a little further than I thought it would, and it, um, went through the Chief Matron’s window and stuck in her desk. She was a little upset. She was sitting at the desk.

Mistress Ellana? Oh, that’s nice. So she sent you to us. Ha! Well, it’s not so bad. We get the better element here, and our bouncers are good. You’ll meet all sorts of interesting people, and an archer’s arms should be strong enough to carry six mugs on a tray. Ha! What was your name? Andiriel? You’ll be working with young Chandra here. If you do good, maybe you’ll stay with us when your sentence is up. Then you’d get three silvers a week, plus tips, instead of one.

So Andiriel worked four hours a day at the Happy Tankard instead of making lace with her friends. Her bow remained locked in the Chief Matron’s office. She did not consider the punishment—invoked using a clause in the Institute charter by which orphans were eligible to be put to work, at the same low wages, in any respectable establishment in Javakis—unmerited. To the surprise of both herself and many of her colleagues, she was not deprived of her prefecture. To make up for her offense she became even more conscientious.

She was actually relieved to be free of the routine of the lace factory. (Jin positively envied her. Can I borrow your bow? I’d love to spend the afternoons away from here.) Being shouted at, doing menial work, and occasionally getting pinched, was not what she was used to, nor were colleagues like the unlettered Chandra an appealing alternative to Nella and Jin, but encountering the outside world was doubtless a broadening experience.

(2)

One blustery April afternoon a man came in: tall, black-haired, the hilt of a sword visible through the slit in his riding coat. My esquire and I require a room for tonight, goodman, he said to Boggus. Two of the heartiest meals you can prepare and your best fodder for the horses. Call us at dawn. His voice was deep but he spoke softly. Here is payment. Keep what is left.

Boggus took the G2, nodded agreeably, and said, Of course, sir knight. Whatever you like. Andiriel, show this gentleman to the North Room. Chandra, see the cook.

She guided him up the stairs, opened the door, and said, I hope it pleases you, sir knight. I scrubbed it just yesterday.

The man looked over the room, which was indeed clean and commodious, then turned his deep black eyes on her, studying her so carefully that she felt flustered.

A pelican pin. You are not a town girl? An orphan at the Institute?

On the left side of her blouse was a metal badge depicting a pelican wounding herself to feed her young—her Institute insigne, which she wore on her green and yellow Happy Tankard outfit to show that, unlike her co-workers, she was not just a tavern girl.

Yes, sir knight. I finish there in June. I’m here because I’m not so good at making lace any more, and as punishment for bad archery.

I did not know that archery was a subject the orphans studied. Surely they have not substituted it for singing madrigals?

No, sir knight. Archery is my hobby. At least until the Chief Matron took away my bow. I want to learn to use a bow, and to travel, and see things, and, and do things.

You seek adventures?

She wondered if he was laughing at her, but he seemed serious. I guess I do, sir knight.

Have you had any yet?

"Well… Two years ago I went into an old ruin outside of town, and I found a samdar, and I was chased by a gorth, but I got away. I sold it at the Wizards’ House." She wondered why she was telling all this to a stranger, for until now only Nella, Jin, and Garjon knew about it; but the man’s searching look demanded truth.

Jagar’s Chapel, with a broken snake-statue outside it?

Why, yes, sir knight, that’s right. How did…

I’ll speak with you further when you serve the meal.

There was a noise on the stairs. A young man—maybe twenty, clean-shaven, fair-haired, short, very sturdy—came in with two heavy sets of saddlebags. The mounts are all right, my patron he said. He smiled at Andiriel; she nodded respectfully.

Put the bags in the corner, Stefan. Food is coming, and we need it.

Andiriel went down to the main room. Boggus asked if the new guests were comfortable.

Yes. I think they’re important people.

Anyone who gives two gold for a S13 bill is important. Knights, or freelances who’ve just been paid off. See you treat them very well.

A little later she clumped upstairs carrying a tray loaded with food and drink, got it into the big room, and set it on the round table. The men had taken off their riding coats and were seated, expectantly ravenous. Two hauberks also lay neatly in one corner.

Ah, a feast indeed, said the older man. Now, your name?

She did not reply right away because she was staring: emblazoned on the men’s surcoats were golden swords encircled by crowns. The older man had two stars on his left sleeve.

An… Andiriel, she finally got out.

I am Branlor. This is my esquire, Stefan of Holmarn. Sit down, Andiriel, and have some bread and cheese, if you like.

She sat down gingerly and nibbled some bread. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

Now, tell me more about yourself. How long have you been at the Institute?

All my life, lord knight. Since I was three months old.

Have you done well there? No problems with discipline?

Not until that arrow landed on Mistress Ellana’s desk, lord knight. I have the best marks in Old and New Imperial. I’m a prefect and usually First Scholar.

"Can you translate ‘Arbon lavos, labon arvos’?"

"It’s a tolarnot, lord knight. ‘Mine the labor, yours the glory."

Very good. It is the motto of the Sovereign Order. Andiriel, do you love the Emperor?

Of course, lord knight. He’s foster-father to all us girls.

Would you be willing to do him, and my Order, a service?

Me? Me do… Oh, oh yes, lord knight.

Good. A knight called Sir Orvax Thrawn will soon come to this inn for a message. I thought he would meet us here, but we have just learned he does not want to. I need someone trustworthy to deliver a letter to him. Will you do that?

I’d be honored, lord knight. But how will Sir Orvax find me?

You will find him. He is short, black-haired, and wears a mustache. His arms are argent, in pale three hurts. Do you know what that is?

Yes, it’s three blue spots vertically on silver.

Sir Branlor’s eyes opened wider. Do they teach you heraldry?

She smiled. No, lord knight. I like to read.

You are full of surprises, young woman. You must tell this man that I sent you and give him the letter. He may ask for a parole—a password. It is ‘dawn.’ You will remember?

Yes, I will. Is Sir Orvax a Glory Knight too?

The esquire, swallowing some chicken, almost choked. Sir Branlor glanced at him and half-smiled. No. No he is not. Is he, Stefan?

Indeed not, my patron. I think he would fail the height requirement.

Exactly, said Sir Branlor. Andiriel, I must turn my full attention to this fine meal, for I am famished. Come back here before you leave work. And please speak of this to no one. Stefan, check on the horses as soon you have finished. They need to be ready at dawn.

Half an hour later the young man, in his greatcoat, descended the stairs. She asked if she could come with him.

Certainly, if you like, young mistress.

They went around to the stable and met a boy carrying a load of fodder. Have you seen this beast? he exclaimed. Down at the end.

His name is Darinlos, said Stefan.

That means ‘mighty.’

Yes. Do you think him well-named?

The horse was black with a spot of white on its forehead and hooves the size of dinner plates. She stood staring while the ostler dumped the fodder and went away for more.

Have you ever seen an Imperial Destrier? asked Stefan.

Not up close. He’s so huge.

Seventeen hands high and a hundred pounds per hand, said Stefan. He can carry a knight in full harness and charge at the end of the day—charge at a trot, anyway. And this is my Whitefoot. He indicated a smaller, leaner horse in the next stall. Are they taking good care of you, comrade?

Can I touch Darinlos? asked Andiriel shyly.

Yes. He’s quite gentle, unless it’s time to be fierce. Stefan inspected the saddlery piled nearby, the water troughs, the fodder.

She tentatively stroked the huge animal’s mane. Darinlos snorted and nuzzled her shoulder, pushing her backward.

He likes you, said Stefan, picking up some combs. Care to help with the grooming?

I… I don’t know much about horses, Master Stefan.

I’ll show you.

They worked for a few minutes. Suddenly she said, You’re so lucky, master, to be in the Order, to ride, to help the Emperor.

I’m not a knight yet, young mistress. I won’t be created Knight Brother for some time, even if all goes well. But I am indeed fortunate to belong to the Order, and to serve Sir Branlor.

Is he famous?

We do not seek fame for ourselves. Recall our motto. Sir Branlor is greatly respected in the Order. The Grand Master himself entrusts him with special tasks. He is a Knight Champion now, and may someday become a Knight Paladin—one of the Ten. I could not believe my luck when he chose me as his esquire last year.

Where are you from, Master Stefan?

Down south. Our chief estate is north of Telmar.

Was your father pleased that you chose to join the Order?

Oh yes, he was delighted. My family has a tradition of service to the Empire. One of my great-uncles was a Knight Champion. And I have an older brother. If I am accepted, it solves the problem of a younger son—you know, providing land and a wife. Brethren give up all that.

I have nothing to give up, and I can’t ride a horse. But someday I’ll do something.

You have already started. Sir Branlor is entrusting you with a mission. The Order knows well how to reward its friends.

But it seems so little—just give a note to a man who’s too short to be a Glory Knight.

Stefan laughed. Forgive me, he said. That is a joke in the Order. There is no required height. We say a man has ‘failed the height requirement’ when he has washed out as an esquire, or if he would be unsuitable for other reasons. Sir Orvax is the second type.

I see. Well, I won’t ask any questions.

You are wise. Here, hold the comb this way.

Later Andiriel went back to see Sir Branlor. He was sealing a heavily-folded paper with a plain metal stamp on molten green wax. Keep this safe, he said.

I will, lord knight.

And what is the parole?

‘Dawn,’ lord knight.

Good. If Sir Orvax does not show up within ten days, write me at the capital and return this. He hesitated. And, when he is here, should you happen to learn anything about what he thinks of the letter, you might mark it and let me know.

I will, lord knight

Good. Stefan and I will be gone in the morning, but you may meet us again.

I’d like that very much, lord knight.

When she went downstairs, Boggus asked her if the guests were Glory Knights. Tid, the young ostler, had told him about the horse.

Yes, but I think they’re traveling incognito. Boggus looked puzzled. Quietly. Not to attract attention, she added.

Ah. Fine. Always respect guests’ wishes. Now, we just got two kegs of wine in. You’re strong enough to move ’em to the taproom, I guess.

Of course, Master Boggus. Right away.

She was usually irked by such menial work. Today she hardly noticed; in fact, she hummed a tune as she went to get the cart.

(3)

Five days passed with no sign of Sir Orvax Thrawn. Andiriel carried the letter with her all the time except at night, when she locked it in her trunk. She naturally wondered what it said but she was not even slightly tempted to try to find out. Had the wax cracked she would have closed her eyes and tried to re-seal it. She told no one of her encounter.

On the sixth day after Sir Branlor’s departure Andiriel arrived at the Happy Tankard to find Boggus in an unusually good mood. There’s a party of four upstairs. Came in this morning. Knights, and hungry, too. Go see what more they need.

She had no trouble finding these guests. The door to the North Room was open, a squire was cleaning equipment in the corridor—including a shield bearing three blue spots—and two strong men were playing dice in another room. In the North Room she found a mustached man eating beef. He glanced at her. We have enough for now, wench. Come back in a while.

Sir Branlor asked me to give you this, Sir Orvax. She put the letter on the table.

He stared at the letter, then at her. And did Sir Branlor say anything else?

Only ‘dawn,’ sir knight.

He grunted, pushed away his food, and called out, Halliman, bring that cypher key, will you? One of the dicers jumped up and hurried in. Then, to Andiriel, Wait outside. She withdrew and closed the door.

She waited perhaps ten minutes. She tried speaking to the squire, but when she said, Hard work today? he only looked at her disdainfully and continued his cleaning.

The door opened and Sir Halliman told her to come in. Sir Orvax, holding the opened letter close to his chest, put a silver coin on the table. Here’s something for your trouble, he said. You have done well, girl. You can bring more wine after all, for me and my men.

She brought them wine, and more an hour later with some food, and yet more later on, until Sir Orvax and his companions were quite merry. (Boggus was also quite merry—for, as Andiriel noted wryly, the quality of the wine he sent up diminished as the day wore on, but its price did not.) On her last trip she heard Sir Orvax say bibulously to Halliman, The Prince would have our heads if he knew of this. We’ll leave before dawn and return by the river.

Then you’re going to accept? asked Halliman.

Why not? Sir Estis signs if I do. With the Order behind us we won’t lose, if it comes to a fight. And that probably won’t happen, but we still get part of the reward now.

That night she wrote a letter, reporting the delivery of the note and relating the words she had heard. She ended with, It has been the greatest happiness in my life to help you and the Emperor, even though I don’t know just what I did. Next day she went to the Council House and paid a whole silver to send her note by the Imperial Horse Post, instead of the routine mail cart, so it would arrive within two days. She addressed it simply to ‘Sir Branlor / The Sovereign Order/ Pargados,’ thinking that the only time the Capital was called Pargados was on envelopes.

4.   MOVING ON

May of 986: Andiriel’s time at the Institute was coming to an end, like that of twenty-six other girls, including her friends. Nella was marrying a blacksmith whose father