Chasing Rogues

Duke Mittanolo awoke with a crick in his neck. He groaned at the soreness and groggily looked about. His head was resting on a table at an awkward angle, which caused the pained neck. He saw he was still seated at the table around which he and his fellow dukes had talked to the young wizard, Ben. Grand Duke Gasparillo sat upright in his chair, his head thrown back, his mouth open, snoring. Duke Dismerana had slid forward in his seat, almost ready to fall to the floor. Duke Sonddor was slumped across the table, as Mittanolo had been.

Mittanolo put his hand to his head to adjust his coronet and felt nothing. His hand, then both hands, searched his head and found no coronet. He looked at the table and it held only goblets and wine bottles. He looked at the floor and could not see it there, either. He got up and walked around the room, searching behind the curtains, looking under chairs and tables. His coronet was gone.

He put his hand to his chest, and noticed he could not feel the gold chain of office he had inherited from his father. He looked again at his hand. There were no rings on his fingers, not his wedding ring, not his signet ring, nothing! His fingers went to his belt, and found no pouch full of coins. He looked around the room more carefully, fully awake now. There was also no wizard.

He shook the other dukes awake, looking closely at them as he did so. No chains, no rings, no brooches, no money pouches. They had all been robbed.

“We’ve been robbed!” he yelled at the others as they woke up. “That miserable little rogue who claimed to be a wizard has taken everything of value we had in this room, including my new coronet! That coronet was quite expensive, highly valuable, my dearest treasure. We should have had more guards in this room, Gasparillo.”

“More guards?” asked Gasparillo, in a mocking tone. “I remember you insisting on a very private conversation with the wizard. You didn’t want anyone beyond us to hear what you were planning. Considering your ambitions, it was a good idea, too. There were guards outside the doors to the rest of the palace, and to the gardens. What more could you have wanted?”

“Security from thieves!” screamed Mittanolo. “Look at yourselves! Where are your chains, your rings, your pouches? Where is my coronet? He took everything of any value! That coronet cost me thousands and thousands of moons! Do your subjects fill your coffers so eagerly that you can ignore such a loss as this?”

“No, my subjects are no more generous than yours,” agreed Sonddor. “But I don’t waste their taxes on fripperies. My chain was old, with several loose links, and I should have replaced it two years ago. It’s not a great loss to me, really.”

“Yes, we all seem to have been robbed,” admitted Dismerana. “But it’s not so great a loss as all that. I had a few dozen suns in my pouch, a chain worth a few hundred moons to any fence, a couple of nice rings that looked better than they were. I only valued them because they had been my father’s. I will miss them, but his favorite ring was actually rather ugly and ill-designed. It’s all really a trifling loss and I can’t see being so upset over it.”

“Trifling! My coronet is gone! That coronet cost me thousands, tens of thousands! Gasparillo, how could you have been so careless as to invite that thief into your palace in the first place? What were you thinking of? Good Gods, man! Bringing an admitted rogue right into the center of your palace! Have you gone senseless in your old age?”

“You were quite eager to speak with him about your ambitious project to create a kingdom from our duchies,” stated Gasparillo firmly. “Quite eager! You wanted to use his magic to make us all more powerful, with a much larger realm we could all share. You spoke of my becoming king, but for how long? I’m old, but I’m not a fool. Were you planning to supplant the others and rule after me?

“You would still have your precious coronet if you had not been wearing it all the time, everywhere you went. Your vanity over that expensive bauble is what made it disappear. None of the rest of us wore our coronets except during the feasts this week. You had to show off. Tempt a thief and he’ll steal from you.”

“Why shouldn’t I wear my coronet? It was beautiful, such exquisite craftsmanship, such perfect pearls! Shouldn’t I take pride in my wealth and possessions? Why have beautiful things and not display them? Why shouldn’t I show the world my things, my importance, my prestige? And you should have offered us better protection here, in your own palace, with scores of your own warriors all around.”

“Gasparillo, dear friend, Dismerana and I will be going,” Sonddor interrupted the discussion. “This argument is getting out of control. We, at least, do not hold you to blame. Do not worry about seeing us off. You have enough to handle here, I think.”

“What is that supposed to imply?” shouted Mittanolo. “That I’m being unreasonable? That I shouldn’t object to being robbed by some young thief? You let that rogue and his friends in here, Gasparillo, and all this is your fault. You should check the rest of the palace. His friends have probably stolen everything else they could.

“All because you were so lost in your dotage that you believed a boy like that could be a wizard. His only magic was in convincing you with a wild lie that he was a wizard. He was a fraud, trying to get in here to rob us blind. He made off with a small fortune, just from us. What his friends took must amount to even more. All your fault, you silly old fool!”

“You are going too far, Mittanolo,” Gasparillo cautioned him. “We are neighbors, independent rulers, who have no claims of superiority over one another. But friendship demands more courtesy than you seem capable of this morning. You should leave. Now. This is not a suggestion.”

***

“Dexter! Dexter!” shouted Mittanolo angrily. “Where have you been? Never mind, don’t explain. I want you to bring Count Frosmelino here immediately. No, not here, have him come to the courtyard. I’m leaving. He has half an hour to meet me there.”

Mittanolo stormed out of his rooms in Gasparillo’s palace. His servants were frantically packing his clothes and other belongings. Two days earlier they had been ready to leave until the duke changed his plans, to wait for a supposed wizard to wake up. Now they were expected to still be fully packed. They knew the folly of complaining about his change in plans. He was a nobleman, a duke, and they were just servants. More to the point, he was a duke with a bad temper.

“Your Grace wanted me?” asked Count Frosmelino in the courtyard.

“Yes, I have been robbed! Here, in Gasparillo’s own palace! By that fraudulent wizard. He stole my new coronet! I want him found and brought to justice. Your lands are near here, just across the southern border of Adallo. Send some of your men right now to learn where these rogues have gone. They were still here at midnight, so they can’t have gone too far.

“They fought a battle against Scarface’s brigands here. That woman had her head cut off, they say. They should, if they have any religious feeling at all, go to Death’s Temple. Start looking for them here in Ongar. Send what men you can from here, now. When you get home, send out more men. I don’t care how many horses you ride into the ground, but I want those thieves found.

“You are one of my most dependable nobles, Frosmelino. I trust you. I count on you to do what I request. If you can do this for me, there will be rich rewards for you. You know my ambitions. If I can expand Phada the way I’d like to, you could become a duke. Don’t fail me.”

Mittanolo mounted his horse, waved his escort to follow him, and rode out of the palace. Frosmelino watched him go and scratched his head. Find a man who left last night. Find a man who went somewhere, anywhere, who knows where? Find a man who has the whole continent to go wandering in. Oh, yes, this will be fun. I don’t think.

“Harold, dismount your men, please,” ordered Frosmelino. “His Grace has left, but we will not be going with him. His coronet was stolen last night. It seems likely that the wizard who slept so soundly was the thief. His Grace suggested that because they fought a battle, and because the woman was apparently dead, they will go to the Temple of Death.

“Send one of your men to the Temple here in Ongar. My herald is a decent artist. Send him to everyone who saw the wizard or any of his friends. Tell him to ask them for descriptions of these people. Have him make drawings of as many of those rogues as he can from those descriptions, but especially the wizard. Send some other men to talk to the servants in the palace. Find out where these people came from, they may go back home now that they’re rich. Find out anything at all that could be useful in tracking them.

“Finally, send some men to the gates, bridges, and ferries. Find out if they’ve left Ongar, and if so, which way they went. Have you any men left? No, well, take one of the others and send him home. I want a company of mounted men at arms ready to leave as soon as we return. We’ll stay today, to see if we get any useful information now. If not, we’ll go home early tomorrow and start a more serious search.”

***

“They didn’t go to the Temple of Death in Ongar,” Harold began. “Your herald has done drawings of the wizard and two others. Most of the servants couldn’t describe faces very well. I’m having him make extra copies of those drawings. I assumed you’d want them. The wizard’s wife is from a place in Adallo called Grangus, up north somewhere. I don’t know where the others are from. Jenny, the one who lost her head, is famous in southeast Orilon as Blade Jenny, a highly skilled swordsman. Even so, no one knows where she lives. They’re rogues, so they roam where they like.

“A guard on the dock gate thinks they may have gone out of the city that way late last night. A large party of riders went out and turned south, as if going to Phada. That’s not likely, of course. They might have gone south to go around the city. And a ferryman farther north on the river says he took two large groups across the river about dawn.

“He says there were twenty-one in total, six men and fifteen men. The rogues with the wizard total six with him. And the other rogues, who got the reward for killing Scarface, they numbered fifteen. So that looks like the whole lot of them. The man who learned this is a good scout and tracker. He went a little ways across the river looking for signs of which way they went.

“He says they made camp near the ferry. Makes sense if they had ridden all night. Then six men went straight north, and the rest went northeast. He didn’t follow them any farther. If he ran into them, he’d have been outnumbered. He figured it was better to tell us that much.”

“That’s good,” said Frosmelino. “Send someone to Filton to see if they go to the Temple of Death there. Filton is due north of here. If they’re going to Grangus or somewhere in the north, they may go by way of Filton. No, send two men. If they find them, one can come back home and tell us. The other can follow them, leaving messages for us at inns. Have him bring sheets of parchment and nails. He can stick a note to a tree if there’s no other way.”

***

“They haven’t been here,” complained Lane, as he and Alvin left the Temple of Death in Filton. They were tired, having ridden over a hundred miles in just two days. They got through the city gate just before curfew, found an inn, and had a full night’s sleep. But their bodies still ached from their hard riding. Now it seemed they had rushed for nothing, adding frustration to their pains.

“Are you really sure? “asked Alvin. “You were pretty careful phrasing your questions. Maybe they didn’t understand what you were asking.”

“I wasn’t that obscure. I asked about a red-headed woman, didn’t I? They weren’t going to forget seeing her. Did you see her at Ongar? You missed something, then. She was a pretty good-looking little filly. Anybody who ever saw her would remember her. Well, let’s check out the Temple of Pronustio to see if any of the merchants have been offered the coronet.”

“Won’t hurt, but I doubt they’d have offered it to a respectable merchant. Still, maybe the honest merchants can tip us off to a crooked one rich enough to buy it. We can spend a couple of days looking for their buyer, then go home.”

“Yeah. I can understand asking us to check out Death’s Temple here. A woman who was dead and is alive again has to go to one someplace. But it doesn’t have to be this one. Lots of towns in Adallo, and all have Temples of Death.”

Two days later, Lane and Alvin headed for Filton’s south gate, frustrated by learning nothing of their quarry.

“They could have gone somewhere else,” suggested Alvin. “The count said to check here, but he was sending guys to other places, too. Maybe they were afraid to come to the grand duke’s capital.”

“Yeah, but I hate not succeeding. We’d have gotten a nice reward for finding those thieves. Now we fail, we don’t get a reward, and all we do get is another day of riding hard. Leave in the evening to get a start on tomorrow? Sure, but it’s a pain where I sit. Wait, who’s that coming this way? Those riders up ahead, see them? Is that a redhead with them?”

“Looks like a redhead, but it can’t be the rogues we’re after. If they were going to Filton, they’d have already gotten here. They’d have traveled as fast as we did coming north. They’d have wanted to put as much distance as possible between themselves and His Grace.”

“Pull off into this lane anyway,” Lane said. “Maybe they didn’t think we’d figure out where they would go. Maybe they didn’t think they had to hurry. If it’s not them, we get a little break from riding before heading out. If it is, we start thinking how we’re going to spend that reward.”

Fifteen minutes later, Lane decided, “That’s them, all right. Don’t know why they’re so late getting here, or how we missed them on the road, but that’s them. Flip a moon. Heads, I go back; tails, you go. Heads, wonderful. I won’t mind the ride now. I’ll tell Frosmelino we’ve found them, and you follow them. Go back to that inn we stayed at. Leave a message for us if you have to leave Filton.

“Don’t let them see you or know they’re being followed. I should be back with more men in six or seven days. Five days, if we ride extra hard. Oh, I’m going to be so sore! And so rich!”

***

The man in the corner of the tavern strained to hear the conversation of the rogues at the large table across the room. Alvin couldn’t catch every word, but he knew they were planning on leaving in the morning. They said they were going somewhere in the north, but he couldn’t make out the name of the place. No matter, he’d follow and keep them in sight until Lane arrived with the rest of their company.

***

“We’ve found them, Your Excellency,” Lane told Frosmelino two nights later. “They’re in Filton. We actually beat them there. Apparently they weren’t worried about pursuit. Alvin is watching them and will leave messages for us if he has to move on.”

“Do you know where they are going next?” asked Frosmelino.

“No, Your Excellency. We were at the gate coming home when we saw them entering Filton. I came immediately and Alvin went to spy on them. With a little luck he will discover their next stop. With a little more luck, they may still be in Filton when we arrive.”

“You said ‘when we arrive’ as if you were planning to go north again.”

“I am, Your Excellency. I’m tired now, but not too tired to leave again. Immediately, if you want. I can sleep in the saddle if I have to.”

“I thank you for your devotion to me and to His Grace, but I won’t force you to leave tonight. I have a company of a hundred men for the pursuit, but they’ve only seen drawings of these rogues. You and Alvin have seen their faces in person, as has Harold, who will lead the company. I want you along to help spot the right rogues. It’s very late, too late to rouse Harold’s company. Get some sleep now, you’ll be on the road at first light.

“Oh, you’ll have a new horse for the chase. I imagine the one you rode out on is half dead now. A new horse is the least I can do for your spotting the rogues. That and a purse of five hundred moons. Thank you very much for your service.”

***

“Frosmelino wants me to leave at dawn,” Harold sighed to his wife Annie. “This is going to be a waste of our time, I think. The rogues we’re supposed to bring back have been gone for a week already. It’ll be days more before we can reach their last known location, up north in Filton. If they stay in one place long enough we might have a chance of finding them, maybe. If they move slowly, we might be able to catch up with them, if we can guess where they’re going. If they move swiftly, as they should if they have any sense, we might never find where they’ve gone.

“Still, I don’t get to choose my orders. The duke says ‘Do this!’ and the count says ‘Do what he said’ and I say ‘Yes’ because what else can I say? So I’m going on the road for a while. I don’t know how long I’ll be away. Two weeks just to get to Filton and back, longer if they’ve gone somewhere beyond there. Probably a month or six weeks before we can say the trail is too cold to follow any longer.

“Frosmelino won’t like hearing that, and Mittanolo will like it even less. I will make a serious search, and maybe I’ll get lucky. The reward will be big if I can succeed, but don’t spend it until I get home with my prisoners.

“I’m sorry to have had so little time with you since coming back from the tournament. At least we had a few days together. I’ve told Billy to look after you and his sisters. His captain agreed to be lenient about his taking extra time off.”

“Why don’t you take him with you?” asked Annie. “You two get on well together, and he’d like to show you how good a warrior he’s becoming.”

“True enough, but it’s only three months since he enlisted. He needs to serve with the training company to learn everything he needs to become a good warrior. I’ve taught him sword work, but he needs to learn how to march all day and then stay awake on guard duty at night. He needs to obey other officers, without questioning them the way he sometimes does with me. He’ll join my company after I get back.”

***

“Your friend didn’t really stay here,” said Lane’s former innkeeper. “He came in a few hours after he left with you and gave me a moon to give you a message if you showed up again. He said he was at the Rose Bush now, with your other friends.”

Lane and Harold wandered through the streets of Filton until they found the Rose Bush Inn. They could see the black facade of the Temple of Death down the street. They went into the tap room and asked the landlord if Alvin was still there.

“Alvin? Oh, yeah, that quiet guy in the back,” the innkeeper remembered the silent watcher in the corner. “He left here four or five days ago. Are you Lane? He left this letter for you.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“No, I don’t know where he was going. He was just another guy sitting in my bar. Why should I pay attention to him?”

Lane got a beer and joined Harold at a table. The rest of the men were camped outside the city. Lane read the letter, then passed it to Harold.

“North, but he don’t know where exactly,” complained Lane grumpily. “Fine, taverns are noisy but why did it have to get so noisy just when he was going to hear something important?”

“Doesn’t matter, does it?” Harold commented. “He’s following them, and leaving us messages. You said they took their own sweet time getting here from Ongar. If they’re not in a hurry, we can catch up with them before too long. Four or five days is a bit of a jump on us, but we have some advantages. The pretend wizard is named Ben, and his wife is Polly. She’s from Grangus, northwest of here. I figure Ben is from there, too, or somewhere near it, because they’re married.

“His Excellency gave me a map of northern Adallo, courtesy of the Temple of Knowledge. It’s about three hundred miles, by my reckoning, from Filton to Grangus. Someone taking his time might spend as much as fifteen days on that trip. Pushing hard, we can do it in six or seven days. So, even if they have a five day lead, we can catch them before we get to Grangus.

“Capture them, retrieve the coronet, and bring them back to Mittanolo for a quick trial and an even quicker execution, or a nice slow execution, if I know Mittanolo. Lots of reward money for everyone, including you, me, and Alvin. We’ve got days of hard riding ahead, but when we get home, it’s going to be all cushions all day every day. I can’t wait for our reception by the duke.”

***

“What are you doing here?” asked Harold as they came upon Alvin on the side of the road sitting on the carcass of a dead horse.

“What does it look like? I’m trying to think of where I’m going to find another horse in this God-deserted farming country. My first horse found a gopher hole the fourth day out from Filton. Had to kill him. Got this worthless imitation of a horse from a farmer. Nobody here has horses for riding. I’m not even talking about a horse suitable for a knight. Just for ordinary riding. Nothing. Cart horses. Plow horses. That’s all.

“My next stop was Clun, a good sized town, but they had already passed through. I met some old guy who knew them, amazingly good luck that was. He said they had come to Clun earlier from Barnsley, so he thought they were going north along the river. That’s why I left you that note.

“I pushed this old relic as hard as I could to try to make up for lost time. When we left Filton, I only gave them a lead of an hour or so. Now, I don’t know how far ahead they are. At least a day. This useless thing dropped dead a couple of hours ago. Nothing around here at all, either. All cow pasture, no riding animals. Not even a cart horse to be found.”

“Don’t worry about the horse,” said Harold. “I’ve got some extra ones, just in case of trouble. Barnsley, huh? Should take about two days to get there. We’ll have to ask about the coronet there, too. Did you ask in Clun?”

“Yes, of course I did. Wasn’t going to forget that part of the mission. Hell, if we get the coronet, His Grace may ignore the lack of thieves to hang. But nobody there knew from coronets.”

***

“This is a waste of time,” grumbled Rolf, leading his squad of men to one more little village. “I’ve lost count of how many of these two-bit villages we’ve checked out. And what have we found, nothing.”

“Complain to Harold if you want,” Jesse commented. “Think he’ll tell you it’s time to quit? He expects to find these rogues, and he expects to get a big reward when we do. We may get a little something, but he sincerely expects to get something really big. So bitch to him if you want, and see what it gets you.”

“Yeah, I know, but it’s still frustrating. We spent a whole day searching Barnsley. We searched Grangus a day and a half. We found Ben’s wife’s father, who didn’t know his daughter was married and wasn’t happy to learn that. We’ve been going to every wide spot in the road for miles around Grangus, trying to find some kid named Ben who thinks he’s a wizard. Right. Like I believe that one.

“All right, you men, spread out and gather all these peasants from these farms. Bring them all into the village square. And don’t waste any more time than you have to, please. The sooner we fail, the sooner we can go home.”

An hour later, Rolf looked at the crowd of irritated people standing in front of him. What a surly looking lot of peasants. I guess their local baron doesn’t beat them often enough.

“Who are you and what do you mean by dragging us out of our homes like this?” asked a farmer, and not politely.

“I’m here to find a thief and supposed wizard named Ben. That’s all you need to be told. Now, you can tell me if this Ben lives in this dirty little excuse for a village. Or if he ever did. And you can also tell me where he is now. I’m going to find out, one way or another, so you might as well get on my good side by telling me right away.”

“There’s no Ben here,” declared Ralph. “Never heard of anyone of that name. If you think he lives here, you’re mistaken.”

“Nope, not a Ben in the whole village,” added another man, taking his cue from Ben’s father. “Nor for miles around. Usta be a fellow named Glen, maybe you’re thinkin’ of him.”

“Don’t give me any lip, peasant! Now, where is Ben? I know he came here. Where is he now?”

A little girl was listening to the adults arguing. She was surprised that none of them knew the answer to the question the unpleasant stranger was asking. She knew it. She was proud to have remembered the strange name she had heard at the going away party. She liked to show off. “Lugau,” she squeaked loudly. Her parents hushed her and moved her to the back of the crowd.

“Lugau. Well, that’s nice. Finally someone with sense. Where’s that little girl? I’d like to ask her some more questions.”

“Leave her alone,” growled her father. “Git out of here now, and don’t come back.”

“Jesse, take that man and let’s make an example of him. Maybe if these people see how serious we are, they’ll talk some more.”

“What’s going on here? Who are you and what are you doing to my people?” demanded a well-armored old nobleman riding up on a large horse. Two dozen mounted men in armor rode behind him.

“I am Baron Garrago. This is my land, my village. No one talks that way to my peasants but me. So who do you think you are to be threatening my people?”

“I am Rolf, a sergeant in the service of Count Frosmelino, a close personal friend of Duke Mittanolo of Phada. We are here at His Grace’s order to find a thief and bring him back for trial and execution.”

“Then you’re lost. This is not Phada. This is Adallo. You’re a long way from home, and alone. Do you think you and your ten men can defeat me and my two dozen? You will leave here immediately, or I will destroy you to the last man. Go!”

Rolf led his men away quickly. He resented being chased away like that, but he could see the odds were against him. Not just the raw numbers, but his men were in boiled leather armor set with studs. It was very attractive and good enough armor for men who didn’t fight many serious battles. But it wasn’t as good as the metal scale armor the baron’s men wore.

Harold had set his camp near Grangus, a convenient spot for searching all the surrounding villages. Rolf looked for his captain and found him talking to another sergeant. They were sitting on the ground under some shade trees. He waited for his turn, thinking about the best way to present his news, and hide his error.

Behind him came Ralph and his sons, Ken and Joe, staying out of sight. “You got to save Ben,” Marge ordered when Rolf had left Tindle. “I don’t want some outlanders tryin’ to kill my boy. Do whatever you got to do to protect Ben.” They brought their extra sharp knives that Ben said would cut through leather armor like butter. They crept to the edge of the foreigners’ camp and listened.

“Sir, I’ve discovered where Ben has gone,” Rolf announced when Harold turned toward him. “We finally found his village, and a little girl told us Ben has gone to Lugau. Her parents wouldn’t let me talk to her after she said that, which makes me think she was telling the truth.”

“Lugau? Where’s that? Lane, Alvin, have either of you ever heard of a place called Lugau?”

“The city’s right there, Harold,” Alvin pointed out. “Ask at the Temple of Knowledge. That’s what it’s for, isn’t it? Answers for every question.”

An hour later Harold knew where Lugau was, and how to get to it from Grangus. By evening all his search parties had returned, empty-handed of course. He ordered them to get ready to leave in the morning. They were going to take the road to Lugau.

One man was sent home with a letter for Count Frosmelino. It told him all they had learned: that Ben came from a village named Tindle, which lay north of Grangus; and that he and his friends had left some time earlier for a city called Lugau, in the northern county of Ethe. It also told him this would be Harold’s last message. They were already more than a week of hard travel from home. Every message depleted his force, with no possibility of his getting replacements.

The messenger left immediately, not wanting to delay the letter’s delivery, or his rest at home. He didn’t notice the three men who followed him south from Grangus. They caught up with him after two miles and stopped him. He refused to give them the letter. They offered an argument with steel and took the letter. Ralph read it, smiled, and thanked his sons. On the way home, they stopped in Grangus to visit the Temple of Death. They had killed someone, after all.

***

Harold had looked at the map in the Temple of Grasilos, but it was not very detailed. He knew there were mountains in his way northwest, and he knew there were passes through the mountains. He just didn’t know which passes he should take, and which he should avoid. He chose poorly, and added a couple of days to their travel time. His company reached Barton tired from their journey over the mountains. They made camp south of the River Brent, near the bridge into the city.

The next morning he divided half his men into squads of four men. Each squad was assigned a section of the city to search for the rogues. They were to check the inns, the Temple of Pronustio, the lesser merchants who might deal in stolen goods.

If they found one of the rogues by himself, they were to bring him to the camp. If they found all of them together, they should send a runner to the camp with the news. Harold would then bring the whole company into town to arrest them all. I don’t want trouble with the local officials. I should probably have sent the men into town without their armor, but these rogues are supposed to be tough fighters. I just hope we can grab the rogues quickly and be gone before anyone notices.

Harold sent his men out and sat down to wait for them to report. He spent the day thinking about his options if the rogues weren’t here. They had traveled slowly all the way from Ongar. Could they still be traveling slowly? Was he here ahead of them, the way Lane and Alvin had beaten them to Filton? No, he would have seen them on the road. What if they took that other pass through the mountains? What if they were here and left. Barton was a reasonable place to look for them after Grangus. But there were lots of ways to go north to Lugau from Barton. Which way would they choose?

How long can we afford to pursue them? Count Frosmelino gave us ten pack horses loaded with supplies, and five thousand moons to buy more on the road. We’ve already spent over half of that. Before too long we’re going to have to steal some livestock someplace to stay fed. That’s a hard fall for me, from captain of the count’s guard to common brigand! What choice do I have, though? We can’t get any more money from home now. We can’t go home without the thieves or the coronet. Who knew it would take so long to find them?

He was deep in thought late that morning when six riders went past his camp. He didn’t notice them, and they didn’t pay any attention to him.

After several days of casual travel, Vince and his friends arrived at Barton, on the River Brent, a large city in the Principality of Radalis.

Like most of Radalis, Barton had been destroyed in the Big War. Three centuries of rebuilding had replaced the old ruins with almost-as-old grand houses. Vince suggested a large inn near the market square, with rooms overlooking the river.

“I just asked the innkeeper about baths for us,” declared Jenny as they settled into their rooms. “After a week on the road, we’re pretty well covered in dust and grime. But he says they don’t do private tubs here. The town has two hot springs, and has built bath houses over each, one to the north of the market for men, one to the south of the market for women. They apparently don’t want men and women to bathe together. How odd.”

“You’re just too used to the casual customs of the road,” observed Betsy. “Lots of places prefer to separate men and women bathers. None of us care, but we do have to consider the local morals. I don’t care as long as I can scrub off a few pounds of dust.”

***

“That’s one of them there!” shouted Lane, excitedly. “That’s the axeman, um, Horace. And he doesn’t have his axe with him. Let’s grab him and bring him back to camp. This is going to be a good day for us, I think.”

Lane and his three men jumped on Horace from behind, one of them climbing halfway up Horace’s broad back to take him down. Another hit him on the head with a stout club, which stunned him. They brought him to the ground and tied his hands behind his back before he could hurt them too much. They stuck a rag into his mouth to keep him from shouting and led him down the street.

“Hey, that’s my friend,” warned Ben. “What’re you doin’ with him? Let him go now!”

Ben couldn’t, of course, have suspected that Duke Mittanolo’s reach might extend so very far. But he also hadn’t considered the odds of four against one. Lane recognized Ben immediately and grabbed his arm. Another man with a club whacked Ben over the head and helped tie him up.

“We should bring both of these guys to camp,” Lane declared. “But this big guy is struggling awfully hard, despite being tied up. It’s going to be hard to get them both through the whole town to our camp. Look, here’s the back door of an inn. Bring them in here. We’ll sneak up the back stairs and find a room to put them in. You men watch them while I bring Harold here with some more men.”

Lane made sure Horace and Ben were well tied up, reminded his men of the rewards they would soon get, and went for Harold. Horace tried to break the thongs tying his hands, but he had no success. Ben began to talk about sleep, what a wonderful thing it was. So refreshing after a busy day. So restful. What a delightful thing it would be to just fall asleep right now.

All three guards were soon asleep. So was Horace. I didn’t think about him falling asleep, too. Hmmm, I wonder why I don’t put myself to sleep with that trick? No matter. Time to get untied.

Ben could feel the thongs with his fingers, and soon had a flame positioned just right to burn the strips of leather. In a few minutes the room was full of foul air from burning leather and Ben was free. He shook Horace, to no effect. He pulled his dagger from the pile of their belongings on the table and stabbed Horace in the arm. Horace woke suddenly to see Ben healing his arm.

“What the zorp happened? Who are these guys? Why did they capture us?”

“Let’s wake ’em up ’n’ find out,” Ben suggested. “We gotta be quick; their leader went off to get someone else. I don’t know how to dismiss my magic yet. That’s why I stuck you to wake you up. I’ll do the same with this one.

“All right, fella,” threatened Horace as the man woke up. He loomed over him, looking as huge as he could while poking him lightly with his dagger. “Who are you, and why did you try to kidnap us? Answer quickly if you want to live.”

“We’ve been sent by Count Frosmelino to arrest you on behalf of Duke Mittanolo. You stole his coronet and now you’ll have to pay the penalty.”

“Oh, my, how very moralistic,” mocked Ben. “Yes, I stole the duke’s coronet. He insulted my wife ’n’ he shouldn’t have done that. He had to pay a penalty, himself. How did you ever find us after all this time?”

“We were in some village near Grangus. Rolf asked where you were, or where you had gone. Some little kid blurted out ‘Lugau.’ Her parents tried to hide her, so we knew that was the truth. We’ve been trying to follow you ever since.”

“It cain’t be just the few men who grabbed us,” considered Horace. “They musta sent a large group of men.”

“Oh, yeah, the count sent a whole company of his best men,” bragged their former captor.

“If that one guy went for their leader, we could have a problem,” acknowledged Horace. “We cain’t leave ’em here, we got to reduce the numbers coming after us. But I don’t like to kill defenseless men. Ah know, we’ll break their legs. You don’t mind, do you, Ben?”

“No, not when the alternative is to kill ’em outright,” agreed Ben.

“Well, I mind,” objected their first victim, sounding very scared. “I mind a whole lot!”

“Oh, don’t whine like that! It’s better than dying, ain’t it? Sit on his thigh, Ben, while Ah put his foot on this bed. One quick jump on the shin, and, ooh, what a nasty sound that was! Two more, just the same. All done? Then let’s git.”

Horace led the way down the street, with Ben keeping an eye on their rear. They had enjoyed their bath, but they had wandered after it. Now they looked around trying to find their friends. They didn’t know where Vince had gone, and the women had gone to the other bath house.

Near the market, they saw Betsy surrounded by a small group of men. Her hands were tied behind her, a man on each side held her by an arm, one walked in front, one behind. Horace and Ben looked at the small parade and thought about what to do.

“We ain’t got our proper weapons, or any armor,” noted Horace. “And starting a serious fight in the center of the city ain’t going to be a good idea. And you cain’t put ’em to sleep in this crowd. Ah got an idea. We’ve got the clubs the first guys used on us. You hit the guy at the back, and the one on the left. Ah’ll take out the one on the right, and then the one in front.

“Hit hard as you can, and don’t worry none about killing ’em. We’re gonna hafta kill these men, but they’re awake and armed. And they’re kidnapping my wife, so Ah can justify whatever we do to the local watch.”

Ben came up behind the man at the rear of the procession, tipped his helmet off with the end of his stick, and whacked him hard on the back of his head. The man dropped and Ben turned to the man on Betsy’s left. He turned when he saw his partner fall, and ran off. The man leading the group spun around and came at Ben, running into his dagger.

Horace had already hit the man on Betsy’s right, bringing his stick down on the man’s head with a sickening splat. He then chased after the man running away, tripped him up with the stick, and killed him with a quick thrust of his dagger. Ben sliced through the thongs on Betsy’s wrists, checked to make sure the first man he had hit was dead, and they fled.

“Where are Polly ’n’ Jenny?” Ben asked, after telling Betsy what was going on.

“I don’t know. We left the bath together, but Jenny wanted to look for some new riding gloves. Polly just wanted to look at the shops in general. Oh, look! There she is! In that alleyway.”

They looked where Betsy was pointing and saw Polly in a narrow passage between two buildings with four men in front of her. An awning hung in front of one of the buildings held up by two poles, but now it drooped down on one side. Polly had taken one long pole from it and was holding it in her hands like a spear. One man was rolling around on the ground, holding his throat, gasping for air. Another was clutching his groin in pain. The others were trying to talk her into being more reasonable.

“Look lady, please put that pole down. We don’t want to hurt you. We just want your husband. I saw you in Ongar, and you’re Ben’s wife. We just want him. Put the pole down and tell us where he is. Please.”

“He’s right behind you, getting ready to cut your head off,” laughed Polly.

“Oh, now, really, lady. That is such a silly thing to say. I’ve heard that gag for years from rogues like you. There’s no way I’m going to start believing it now.”

“Why is that?” asked Ben, right behind the man. “Is that ’cause you don’t believe I could cut your head off, or ’cause you don’t believe I would? Drop your weapon, please. ’N’ the rest of you.”

The man didn’t drop his sword, but swung it as he turned around. Ben stepped back from the blow, then leaned in, stretching his arm out to thrust his dagger into the man’s chest. The man clutching his throat had stopped making noises and was lying still on the ground. The other two men tried to flee, but Betsy and Horace stopped them with their daggers.

“Are you all right, Polly?”

“I’ve been having fun with these guys,” chuckled Polly, smiling. “I’ve had so many lovely adventures since leaving home. I wish this had happened sooner.”

“That’s fine, Polly,” grumbled Horace, “but we gotta git away from here. These guys have a hundred friends nearby and we don’t wanna meet ’em. A few minutes head start on our getaway will be useful.”

As they ran down the street, Betsy asked Polly, “Can you use your special sense of knowing where things are to find Vince and Jenny?”

“I never thought about finding people with it,” confessed Polly. “Hmmm, Vince is straight ahead, on the left. Jenny, ah, Jenny is farther away, but this direction.”

They found Vince in a tavern having a beer.

“Hey, there you all are. Come on in and have a really nice beer. They use ...”

“Save it for later, Vince,” interrupted Horace. “Mittanolo’s sent some of his troops to find us and bring us back to Phada. We gotta leave in a hurry. Polly is trying to locate Jenny now.”

“Damn! And we just got here, too,” grumbled Vince, draining his mug.

“Down this street and turn right at the corner,” directed Polly. “I think that’s where she is. I’ve never had to find things with houses and buildings in between me and what I’m looking for.”

***

Jenny had heard someone shout, “There’s the redhead! Get her!” She assumed she was the redhead, and looked around to see who wanted to grab her. Four men in studded leather armor were coming from the other end of the street. She considered them coolly. Metal studs on boiled leather is adequate but cheap. I wonder what sort of training they’ve had. She had just enough time to dodge into the nearest doorway, the wide entrance to a smithy.

She looked around and saw no way out. The four men were almost to the entrance when she slid on a large glove and pulled a sword blank from the forge. The glove was too large, but it worked to keep her hand from getting burned by the blade. The tip was red hot, and the whole length of it was more than warm. The smith objected loudly. She turned and swung it at him and then the men coming in. The smith, knowing his shop, went out the back door Jenny hadn’t seen.

The men at arms stopped in their tracks. They had heard how these rogues had wiped out Scarface’s whole gang, a gang with a deadly reputation. These men didn’t want to risk their lives needlessly, even if this little woman didn’t seem such a great threat. After all, she was supposed to be the one who had lost her head. How good a fighter could she be is she had had her head cut off?

Polly led her friends down the street and turned the corner. There was Jenny, waving a sword with a glowing red tip at four men in leather armor. One man got too daring and she slashed him across his face. He fell dead at her feet. The others backed up. They had been told one of the women was good with a sword, though none of them had seen her fight. Now they knew it was this woman, and how good she was.

They spread out around the smithy, one to Jenny’s left, one to her right. She shifted her position slightly, thinking of how to do her attacks. Right first, then the guy in the middle? Lefty is hemmed in by that anvil now. Take out lefty first, and slip past the anvil to the street? Ah, never mind. Here comes my dear hubby.

Vince, seeing his wife trapped by three men, charged straight at the nearest one. He pulled the man’s head back and slashed his throat. Blood everywhere, and the man by the anvil started to flee. He was stopped by Horace’s dagger. Betsy pushed the third man against the wall and stuck him in his chest.

“What in the name of the dirty dimpled dragon is going on here?” asked Jenny.

“We’ll tell you on the way back to the inn,” Vince declared. “We need to hit the road in a hurry, before the town watch starts looking at all these dead bodies.”

“Remember how we decided Mittanolo couldn’t possibly follow us?” admitted Ben, sheepishly. “We was wrong.”

“Still, how did they find us here?” asked Jenny. “Why would they even think to look for us here, of all places?”

“Apparently they found my village,” explained Ben, “’n’ some little kid said we was goin’ to Lugau. I cain’t blame the kid. I usta try to look like I knowd stuff when I was little, showin’ off. ’N’ Barton is on the way from Tindle to Lugau. I think it’s just bad luck that they found us today.”

“Yes, but on the other hand,” Betsy commented, “we now know they’re after us. If they hadn’t found us today, they might have caught up with us somewhere else.”

“Yeah, but we’ve got extra-sharp swords now, ’n’ their armor is mostly leather,” Ben said.

“And I told you when you first gave us these sharp weapons that numbers matter in a fight, too,” countered Vince. “You said four men grabbed you and Horace. Four more had Betsy. Four more were trying to get Polly, and four more for Jenny. That’s over a dozen right there. You said one of your captors was going for his captain. How many more than a dozen are there? I wouldn’t send fewer than two dozen men on a search like this, maybe more than that even.”

“One of the guys who grabbed us said they had a whole company of men,” mentioned Horace. “We did kill, what, maybe twelve of them, and crippled three more. That’s a start on evening out the numbers.”

“Oh, yeah, only eighty-five left. Like that’s going to be easy, whatever advantages we have,” complained Jenny. “We have better armor, better weapons, and, from what I’ve see so far, better skills. They still outnumber us considerably. We better leave fast.”

***

Harold was still thinking about which way to go when they left Barton when Lane came into camp with the news they had captured Horace and Ben. Harold was overjoyed, and led another six of his men almost at a run to where Lane had left his squad. Lane led them up the back stairs of the inn where he left Horace and Ben. His three men were still there, but no one else.

Harold looked at the moaning men and their broken legs, and sighed deeply. “Find the Temple of Healing, Lane, and have these men help the others to a healer. We’re going to have to leave you guys here in Barton. I’ll give the healer your horses so you can go home when your legs are healed.”

He went out and soon saw some men from the city guards looking at something on the ground. As he neared them, he saw four bodies in the studded leather of Frosmelino’s army. He thought briefly about slipping away unnoticed, but he didn’t move fast enough.

“You there!” shouted one of the watchmen. “Stop right there! Come here, come on, don’t make me mad. You’re wearing the same armor as these men, so you must belong with them. Who are you? What’re you doing here? Why are these men dead? Come on, some answers, and quickly.”

“I’m Harold, captain of the bodyguard of Count Frosmelino, a close friend of Duke Mittanolo of Phada. His Grace sent us in pursuit of some thieves who stole his coronet in Ongar. We followed them and found them here. We were trying to arrest them to bring them back to Phada.”

“I am Dillon, captain of the city guards of Barton. Phada is a long way off, Harold, and I do not take orders from its duke. Can you prove that you are authorized by him to pursue and arrest these men? And if you can, why didn’t you ask for the city’s help when you first arrived?”

“We’ve been chasing them for a long time,” Harold replied. “We didn’t know they’d be here, but were just looking around to find them. I have letters in my camp proving my story. May I get them?”

“We’ll go to the castle. I’ll send someone to get your letters from your camp. I really can’t let you wander off on your own, now can I? You’ll have to explain yourself and your mission to Baron Warsoopel, commander of the guard. He’ll decide what to do with you.”

A large crowd had gathered to gawk at the bodies and the guard questioning the man in armor. As Vince’s party walked back to their inn for their gear, they saw the two man talking, and recognized the armor.

“I’ll try to get closer and hear what they’re saying,” volunteered Polly. “I don’t look as dangerous as you guys, so I might get close enough to eavesdrop without attracting any attention.”

A few minutes later, she was back. “The guy in armor is the captain of the men after us, his name’s Harold. The guards are going to take him to the castle to see some baron who’s in charge of the guard. Harold says he has letters from Mittanolo giving him permission to chase and arrest us.”

“Good, they’ll spend a few hours talking this over,” stated Vince. “They won’t just look at the letters and accept them as real. So we have time to get a head start. Any idea of where their camp is?”

“They said they were taking me to their camp,” related Betsy. “We were headed toward the south gate, so they must be camped south of the bridge there.”

“Even better,” Vince commented. “We’re going out the north gate, which increases our lead. And if we’re really, really lucky, this baron may not let them move a whole company of warriors through the city.

***

They got their armor on, packed their gear, and headed for the stables. They saddled their horses and rode out the north gate. No one had stopped them, in the streets or at the gate. Three main roads met in front of the gate, creating a large open space, big as the market plaza. One road went north, toward the city of Stone in Wilu. The other two roads followed the river. One went northeast and then east to Tiverton, where the Prince of Radalis lived. The last went northwest into the Great Wasteland.

Jenny led them into the center of the open ground. “We need a plan before we keep going,” she told them. “We only rode half a day today to get here, and we’ve been taking it easy on the road. The horses have had it easy for quite a while, so they might go as far and as fast as we’d like to go tonight. We wouldn’t have to worry about pursuit if those men at arms didn’t have horses. Could we raid their camp and drive their horses off?”

“They’re apparently camped south of the city,” considered Horace. “Even if it warn’t in the wrong direction, the city guards may be all over it by now. We cain’t fight the watch, as well as the men chasing us.”

“Find a different way to get to Lugau then,” suggested Betsy. “There are lots of ways to go north from here. We came here for the bridge over a major river. After Barton, we can go by many routes.”

“Yes, we can go this way or that way,” objected Polly. “But we don’t know which way these warriors are going to go. They’re following us. If they succeed in following us from now on, we’ll have them on our trail all the way to Lugau.”

“They’ll be held up talking to the city authorities for some time,” observed Vince. “We have three or four hours lead on ’em now. Ridin’ fast, we can go a long way tonight. I had been plannin’ on taking us north by way of Boppard, in Wilu. The northwest river road leads us there. There’s a caravan route north from there and travel should be easy. We still have the problem of meeting ’em in Lugau. But we can at least put off our final battle with ’em a long time. Anyone else have any suggestions?”

“We’re not really in a hurry to get to Lugau,” Ben said. “I’d like to get that grimoire you talked about sooner rather than later. But I’d like to do it safely, too. What if we don’t go north now? I saw a map in that last place we visited, Padiham. Radalis goes a long way to the west. There’s a big arm of the sea just northwest of the west end of Radalis. If we get that far, we could take a ship to Lugau. Amos said it was a port.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” mused Jenny. “If you can wait to get your grimoire, this might be the safest way to go. And if we are really lucky, we might meet Amos and his boys up there. They want to do us a favor. Maybe they’ll help us fight the count’s men.”

“The problem is still that they’ll be coming after us,” argued Vince. “And there’ll still be almost a hundred of them. They don’t know which way we’ll go. They’ll try to track us, or ask farmers if they’ve seen us. Someone will give them a clue and they’ll follow along.”

“So, what do we do? Leave now and travel until dark?” asked Polly. “Or maybe camp out of sight here overnight, and let them go ahead of us. We won’t have to worry about them catching up with us if they’re in the lead.”

“Good idea,” agreed Vince. “But what if they travel hard and can’t find us. The Wasteland is open and mostly flat. You can see long way and if they don’t spot us after a few days, they may turn back. We don’t want them reversing course and stumbling upon us. Any other ideas?”

“Yes, we take the northwest road along the river as fast and as far as the horses are willing to go,” suggested Horace. “But we fool ’em first. Ah helped with this trick when Ah was a boy. Some rogues was running away from the local baron’s men. Their pursuers warn’t yet in sight, and Ah was walking past a fork in the road. The rogues tossed me a moon and said, when the baron’s men come up, Ah should say the rogues took the right fork.

“Then they actually took the right fork. The pursuers showed up ten minutes later, Ah said the rogues had gone to the right, and added that they had paid me a moon to say that. The baron’s men assumed Ah was paid to fool ’em and they took the left fork.

“We can do the same thing here. See those boys over there, throwing pebbles at passers-by and trying to look tough. We give ’em a moon apiece and a nice story. We tell ’em the truth, so Harold’ll believe almost everything he hears. What he won’t believe is that we are going west. He’ll assume we’re trying to throw him off our trail.”

“Good idea, Horace,” Vince chuckled. “ How smart was the leader of that baron’s men?”

“Good point. Not very, really.”

“It’s still a good idea, if we vary it a bit. Let’s see if these kids will cooperate. Hey, you boys, want to make a few moons? Come over here.”

“Whatcha want us to do? Beat somebody up? Steal somethin’? We’re tougher than we look.”

“No, nothing so serious as all that,” Vince began. “This man here is Ben, a famous wizard. Yes, really, a wizard. Show ’em a finger flame, Ben. See. Well, we’re his bodyguard, but we’ve got a big problem. There’s a bunch of soldiers after us, trying to capture Ben. Some of ’em got into a brawl in the city, and the guards arrested ’em, but probably not for long.

“They should be coming out of the city sometime later this evening, or maybe in the morning. They’re all in studded armor, and their captain is named Harold. Ask for him when they come through the gate. Here’s a moon for each of you. Tell him we’re going west on the river road. Can you do that? Tell him he should give you another moon each, too.”

Vince remounted his horse and led the party down the road going north. They moved at a casual pace until out of sight of the gate. Then they spurred their horses into a canter and rushed down the road. After a mile, they turned left and rode cross-country to the west river road.

“We do not like random killings in our streets,” growled Baron Warsoopel to Harold in the castle. “Can you tell me why there are so many dead men everywhere, all in armor like yours?”

“We were chasing some rogues who stole the coronet of Duke Mittanolo of Phada. I had given my men instructions to search this city for them. I didn’t know if they were here, but they were said to be going to Lugau, and it seemed likely they might go through Barton. My men were supposed to capture them and bring them to our camp. We wanted to bring them back to Phada for trial.”

“My Lord, here are the letters he says he had from his duke,” acknowledged Dillon, coming in with some scrolls. “I am sorry to be late with this, but Harold has a whole company of men at arms camped just south of the city. I had to find enough watchmen to gather their weapons and keep an eye on them.”

“A company of warriors!” exclaimed Warsoopel. “How many rogues are you chasing that you need a whole company?”

“Six, My Lord,” admitted Harold sheepishly. “But they’re very good fighters. I was told by one of my men who survived that the rogues weren’t armed, but they still killed a dozen of my men without taking any damage themselves. You may think I have too many men with me. I’m beginning to think I don’t have enough.”

“Humph! That’s your problem,” declared Warsoopel. “These letters seem legitimate. Dillon, take them down to the Temple of Grasilos and ask a scholar to identify the seals on them. Thank you. Harold, if the seals are genuine, I will accept these as proper authorization for your pursuit of thieves. If I let you go, what will you do?”

“I would like to continue my pursuit, My Lord,” Harold replied. “I believe they are going to Lugau, somewhere in the far north. I would like to bring my company through Barton to keep on following them north.”

“I can’t let you bring a company of armed men through the city,” objected Warsoopel. “Hmmm. What I can do for you is this. In the morning, you must pack your weapons and armor on your horses. My men will lead them through the city and out the north gate. Then we will lead your men through the city on foot. Once outside the north gate, you can do whatever you wish. My care ends with the gate.”

An hour later Harold was allowed to return to his camp. He was dispirited at being so close to success only to have his prey escape. His men had nothing to feel good about that night. Twelve of their friends were dead, killed by people armed only with daggers and clubs. Three more had been crippled after somehow falling asleep. Lane’s men couldn’t even tell how they had fallen asleep. Their prisoners had escaped with ease. They cooked some food and ate, more from habit than interest.

“I can’t take any more of this tonight,” grumbled Harold. “Fifteen men gone with nothing to show for it. Damn! We were so close today, and you all blew our chance. I can only hope that we get another chance as good as this. Tomorrow, early, we set off after them.”

“They’re still right here, Harold,” suggested Alvin.

“Would you stay here if your deepest, deadliest enemies knew you were here?”

***

The next morning the city guard led them through the city and out the north gate. Some more guards left off watching their horses and gear and filed back into the city. Harold ordered his men to get armed and armored and ready to ride. A bunch of young boys, trying to look tough, came swaggering up and one asked, “Are you Harold?”

“Yes, I am. What do you want?”

“Yesterday afternoon, some rogues left the city. A woman with red hair, a big guy with a bushy beard and a big axe, some others. They said they was guardin’ this dopey lookin’ guy name of Ben. They claimed he was a wizard, but he didn’t look any too bright. Anyways, they asked us to look out for you and tell you they was goin’ down the river road to the west. They gave us each a moon, and said that you’d probably give us another.”

“I’m a working man and can’t throw my money away,” countered Harold. “Here’s a few mugs, and be grateful for them.”

“What if I tell you they really went north?”

“North? Honestly? Here’s some more money.”

Harold called his sergeants around him and asked them, “Do we believe these boys? Why would the rogues have them tell us where they really went?”

“Maybe to mislead us,” suggested Saul. “We think they go west, but they go north or east instead. We can lose several days going the wrong way. They probably didn’t think the kids would tell the truth.”

“Maybe that’s what they want us to think,” offered Rolf. “They really go west, but we think they’re trying to fool us and we go north or east. We still go the wrong way and fall behind.”

“Deception either way,” Harold commented. “They paid these kids to say they went west. That means to me that they want us to go west. I was ready to lead us north from here, that being the shortest way to Lugau. I wouldn’t have asked these boys for information, they came up and offered it. Hell, if I had wanted information, I wouldn’t have asked a bunch of young toughs. They might not even have been here last night.

“So, the rogues set them up to come to us with the news they’ve gone west. How convenient. But the kids were too greedy and wanted some more money from us, so they told us the rogues actually went north. Yeah, this makes sense. The kids tell us west, we believe them and go west. The rogues are now riding off to the north.”

“Yeah, but why do we believe them, whatever way they send us?” asked Lane. “They’re paid to tell us west and we believe that while they go north. But if we don’t believe west, we go north, right after them.”

“East,” declared Alvin. “They were trying to mislead us by paying these boys to say they went west, then they ride north. But how do we know they rode north? The boys told us that. The boys whom we know they paid to tell us a lie. So they can’t have gone west or north. The only way we haven’t been pointed to is east and that’s the way they went. Simple logic.”

“That’s brilliant, Alvin,” Harold remarked. “All the misdirection, so much lying, all to no avail. You’ve figured out their plan. Good work! Let’s head east, and fast.”

***

The southern parts of Radalis had been pleasant, with many farming towns and small forests. Crossing the River Brent at Barton the rogues soon found a more desolate landscape. The forests shrank and vanished. The towns became villages, and there was more space between them. None seemed very prosperous. Even the fields looked half dead.

“This is the edge of the Great Wasteland, Ben,” Vince informed him. “I’ve told you I once visited a Temple of Grasilos, God of Knowledge. I was trapped in some town up north by a blizzard one winter. Freak storm that left three feet of snow over the whole county. Couldn’t travel anywhere. Even in town it was hard to get around. My inn was next door to the Temple, so I spent a lot of time there.

“The priests there told me about the old wars, especially the Big War. This was maybe three hundred years ago, the last time anyone tried to rebuild the old empire over all of Orilon. The war lasted a long time, decades, and ended in a huge battle. There were three kings all tryin’ to become sole emperor, and they had tremendous numbers of warriors in their armies. The battle lasted for months, not all in one spot, but spread out all over this area we’re now entering. The armies moved around but stayed here, between Radalis and Wilu.

“It’s an area almost as large as all of Adallo, just to give you an idea of the size. Like between Ongar and Tindle. Weeks to cross, just immense. All the towns and villages were destroyed, all the forests, all the farmland. That’s why it’s still the Great Wasteland. There are some farms here now, but it’s still mostly empty. It’s also the war that killed off all the old wizards.

“The Big War was three centuries ago, and people everywhere still talk about it, as if it was recent. The greatest part of the physical destruction was here in the Wasteland, but no place in Orilon escaped damage of some sort. Towns far away lost all their young men, drawn away to fight and lose battles. Nobles of all ranks died just as fast as their men at arms. Politics and society were turned upside down.

“Even after the last battle was over, the surviving warriors roamed all over as the first brigands. They knew nothing but fightin’ after so many years of war. They kept terrorizing people for years, keeping them from rebuilding anything. The Big War left a huge scar on the minds of the people of Orilon, one we’ve never quite recovered from.”

***

“This is Tiverton, capital of Radalis, according to that merchant we passed this morning,” Harold informed his men. “We need to check for the rogues here, but more discreetly than we did in Barton. We’ll make camp here outside the city. Tomorrow, each of you sergeants, and only you, will go in and ask about the rogues at the inns and anyplace they might have sold the coronet. Don’t try to capture them yourselves, come back for help. Try and get done in one day. We can’t afford to waste time.

“None of the towns and villages along this road had anything but farms and pastures north of them. They could have gone cross country anyplace between Barton and here, but that’s a hard way to travel. So the rogues didn’t turn off this road. So they have to be here, or they really fooled us back there.”

The mood around their campfires was very dark the next night. No rogues in Tiverton. No signs of their rogues ever having been in Tiverton. And a red-headed female rogue was hard to forget seeing. Harold was dejected. His men were thinking of all the hard riding they had done, of their friends killed in Barton, of their growing uncertainty of ever getting home.

“When we get back to Barton, which way do we go?” asked Harold of his sergeants.

“North,” suggested Lane. “The kids told us north, hoping to get more money for the truth. We didn’t believe them and have lost half a week now, before we can get back to Barton. It’s going to be harder from now on, because these roads have enough traffic to hide their hoof prints. Even if we were right behind them, that would make tracking them hard. Now, it’s going to be almost impossible.”

“If they have a five day lead by the time we get back to Barton,” countered Saul, “we might as well forget tracking them. We know they’re going to Lugau, which is north of here. If we go north trying to track them and don’t find them, what do we do next? Go back to Barton and take the road west? They’ll be so far off by then, it’ll be useless to do that.

“Let’s just go north from Barton to Lugau. There’s a nice road. We find them on the way, or we find them in Lugau. What’s the difference? Trying to outguess these guys is just too hard. Get to Lugau as fast as we can and that solves all of our problems.”

“That’s good, Saul,” admitted Harold. “A good solid plan. But I’ve thinking about this ever since we left Barton. These rogues are clever. They’re slippery, too. We thought we had them in Barton, and they got away. We thought we had figured out their lies at the crossroads in Barton. We were wrong. They didn’t go east. We thought the kids were telling us the truth when they said the rogues went north.

“What if those kids were telling the truth, and lying, both? Look at it this way. The rogues want to get rid of us, but we’re right behind them. So they have the kids tell us they went west, and we don’t believe that. Then the kids say they went north, and we don’t believe that, either.

“But what if those kids were only supposed to tell one lie? They told us the rogues went north, because they saw them ride north. All right, this is Saul’s plan. But, what if the rogues lied to the kids, too? They ride north, just far enough to be out of sight. Then they cut across to the river road and go west after all? We weren’t going to believe they went west, so it’s safe. The kids tell the lie we won’t believe, and we won’t go west. The kids tell their own true-but-false story of them going north. We go north and can’t find them, or we go east and don’t find them.

“I think they really did go west. They had those toughs tell us the truth, knowing we wouldn’t believe it. And now that I’ve figured this out, it gives us an edge. We know they were traveling at an easy pace all the way north from Ongar. If they throw us off their trail, they can continue going at an easy pace. So we ride like the wind after them. They’ll have a five day lead by the time we get back to Barton, but after that we can gain a day on them every two days or so.

“Now, here’s the problem. We can’t wait too long to capture them. We’re almost out of money. Frosmelino gave us five thousand moons to cover our expenses, a small fortune for any of us. And we’ve gone through an awful lot of it. We need some to get oats for the horses. We can’t afford to let our mounts die because we’ll have no way to get home. We certainly can’t buy replacements for them. We’re going to have to start spending less for our food. Anyone have any suggestions? How are we going to eat? How can we continue feeding our horses enough?”

“On the way north we, uh, helped ourselves to cattle once or twice,” mentioned Lane. “A couple of steers would keep us going for a week, or close enough. We could do that here, too.”

“No, not here,” objected Harold. “We’re camped right outside a major city. But we’re leaving in the morning. Jesse, you’re in charge of our supplies. How much food do we have left?”

“We can make it back to Barton, two days, on what we have left, and maybe a few days more. We do have extra horses now, you know. The count gave us ten pack animals, and all but two are carrying empty packs. We could sell a couple of the spare horses and buy more food. That won’t buy us enough to last us for very long, though.

“We’ll have to steal some cattle, pigs, sheep, whatever we can find. That’s the only way to get enough to feed everybody. If we can grab a steer in the morning somewhere along the road, we can drive it to some wooded spot and slaughter it. Then we can chop it into big pieces the pack animals can carry. We can do this a couple of times each week and we’ll be fine.”

“We’re becoming like brigands,” complained Harold. “But I don’t see any other option for us. If we’re going to steal cattle, we might as well think about stealing some money too. Jesse’s right, we need the pack animals to carry supplies. We need beer, fruit, turnips, bread, all sorts of things we can’t steal without trouble. I suspect more than a few of us would like some coins to spend with any whores we run across.”

***

They were passing through the southern plains of Wilu when Vince pointed to the line of hills up ahead of them. “Those hills aren’t very tall but their sides are really steep, practically straight up and down. It’s hard to get over them, or through them. There are only two easy paths, about ten miles or so apart, one off to the northeast, and one in front of us. The one we’re going toward is a natural break in the rock wall of the hills called the lower gate, and the other pass is called the upper gate.”

Betsy chanced to look over her shoulder and saw a cloud of dust off in the distance.

“There’s a lot of horsemen coming up behind us, riding hard. Ordinary travelers don’t ride that hard; it’s tiring to man and beast. Warriors do, when they are in pursuit of some foe. Who are they? It can’t be Harold, can it? I thought we decoyed him well enough at Barton. What should we do, Vince?”

“Keep riding at this pace and keep an eye on them,” instructed Jenny, cutting in on her husband. “Our horses are fresh, and they’ve been riding hard for a while. We can at least keep this gap between us. Let’s head for that little hill to our right. We’re going to have a fight on our hands, and I’d like to have the high ground.”

“No, ride hard for that line of hills beyond the little one,” countered Vince. “I’ve been this way before, long ago, and there’s a more defensible spot there a few miles on, at the lower gate. Let’s go!”

Half an hour of sweaty riding brought the rogues to a line of steep hills, broken by a wall and gate. There was a wide natural break in the rock wall of the hills, wide enough for wagons to go through. It had been augmented with a stone wall and a large wooden gate that narrowed the pass. The gate had fallen down, but quarried stone still kept the opening only wide enough for one horse at a time to pass through.

“This is Dagalar’s Gate,” explained Vince. “That’s what the fellow I met last time I came this way called it. He said it’s named for some long-gone baron who wanted to restrict entry into his territory. Didn’t work, the guy said, he still got beat in war. We can hold this narrow gateway all day if we have to. Get our horses through the opening and up the passage to the top.

“I’d like to know who’s pursuing us so hard. Oh, damn! Damn! Damn! They’re wearing the same studded leather of Harold’s men! How did they find us out here? Harold must be smarter than I thought he was. Damn and double damn!

“Betsy, can you, Ben, and Polly fire some arrows and stones at those riders before they come too close. Stand in front of the gate, and dodge back inside when it gets dangerous.”

Polly was still not very accurate with a sling, but Ben’s enchantment made sure that every stone hit a head. Unfortunately, most hit helmets. The riders were stunned and fell off their mounts, but regained their feet groggily. Betsy didn’t have any trouble finding places to plant arrows. In a minute six riders were down and three didn’t get up. Then Ben and Polly each hit a man who had fallen off his horse and lost his helmet. That made five dead pursuers.

Harold led his men to one side where they could dismount without being shot. They had been lucky to run into the rogues once more. He offered a quick prayer of thanks to Dimanitea, Goddess of Fortune. He felt confident again now that he knew his guess days earlier had been right. Our hard riding has paid off, even if our horses are getting worn out. But soon we can take a nice, leisurely ride home with our prisoners. Hmmm, being thieves, they may have enough cash to pay our expenses.

He looked at the rock wall, twenty-five feet of fairly smooth stone. He had eighty men left and didn’t want to lose any more. Can I get a man up that wall? Two or three men? There’s a skinny tree close to it. Will it hold a man’s weight? It’s going to be hard to push anyone through that little gateway. Some men up above might be able to get behind them. It’s worth a try, at any rate.

Rolf struggled a bit, encumbered as he was by his armor, but he managed to reach the top of the cliff. He walked over to the edge of the passage through the rock wall and looked over. He saw Betsy with an arrow nocked, looking for targets. She looked up and saw Rolf. He tried to pull back out of sight, but he was too close, he was too slow, and she was too fast. He fell back with an arrow in his face and rolled off the cliff to land at Harold’s feet.

“You two, you saw how Rolf went up,” ordered Harold. “Go up the same way, but stay away from that passage. There must be some way to come down behind them. Find it and attack. We’ll attack from this side. Try to take Ben, the young one, alive.”

The two men got to the top and walked farther from the cliff edge. The top sloped down away from the cliff to a smooth area. They saw that the passage through the cliff rose up to the same area, where several horses were standing. They found a path to the gateway, a wide opening here, and they went down it eagerly. They shouted to let Harold know they were starting their attack. Halfway down they met Horace and Ben and shouted again, a warning. Horace’s axe split one man’s head. Ben chased after the other man, but he ran back the way he had come too fast. He reached the top of the cliff and climbed down.

Harold sent ten men to attack the narrow gateway when he heard the others call. They formed a small wedge, one man in front with two men on his shoulders to back him up and push him through, and the rest behind. A spear came poking out and one man in back dropped to his knees. He got up unsteadily, and tried to keep fighting, but the spear caught him again, this time in his belly.

The front man was fighting Vince, who was standing inside the gateway. The man’s defense was good, but he was used to having someone covering his sword side with his shield. In the wedge the man to his right wasn’t in quite the best position to cover him and he felt naked. Then he felt a pair of swords striking him. He stopped one with his shield, the other with his sword. He felt even more naked, unprotected. Then the sword that he had parried with his own blade struck again, with no pause. It slashed through his leather armor, astounding him with its sharp edge. It also killed him.

Harold would have ordered more men into the fight, but the survivor of the rear attack had just scrambled down the cliff. Four more men lost in a hurry, and no damage yet to the rogues. How could they be so good? He looked at the gate, at the rock wall, at the desolate countryside. He ordered his men to set up camp here. It wasn’t dark yet, but he thought they’d still be fighting here tomorrow.

Vince stepped from the gateway when he saw Harold’s men pull back.

“I’m trying to think of a plan for our getaway from here,” he told the others.

“Why? You said we could hold this gate all day,” objected Polly.

“Yes, I did. But not all night. When it gets dark they can send men to the top of the cliff again, a lot of men, and we won’t see ’em until they’re comin’ at us from behind. They still have around seventy or eighty men. We can’t guard both ends of this passage. At the Red Tower, the defenders only had enemies in front. We’d have enemies on both sides. Anyway, I want to take a look around beyond the top end of this passage. I’ve been here before, but I need to confirm my memory of the land. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Betsy, go to the top, and keep an eye out for men climbing up again,” Jenny directed. “Horace, you go with her. Ben, take Vince’s place in the gate. I’ll be on your side and Polly can poke from between us.”

Vince returned in less than half an hour, smiling.

“It’s just as I remembered it. The top of this pass is all stone. You saw that when you brought the horses up. It’s like that for a long ways in all directions. There are cracks in the stone, and some grass and weeds growing in the cracks, but it’s mostly bare. We can ride out quietly after dark without leaving any tracks.

“There’s a rocky road going east of here toward the upper gate. We can take that road tonight, ride to the upper gate and come down through it. They’ll discover we’ve gone, either tonight, or first thing in the morning. They’ll go after us, certain that we’re ahead of them. In the morning, we can come back here and keep on going west, south of these hills. This’ll lead us to the route I wanted to take in the first place.”

As soon as the sky grew dark they saddled their horses and walked them to the eastbound road. After a mile, they went into a trot to make more distance. An hour after dark, Harold sent half his men up the tree to the top of the cliff. Ten minutes later he learned his quarry had already fled.

***

“It’s stone for a long way up there,” explained Lane at dawn. “Half a mile maybe, in all directions. Enough that it’ll be hard to see where they left the stone and took to the grassy plain. And that’s almost as hard as the stone. It’s going to be hard to track them.”

“They’re not here, so they’ve gone on,” decided Harold. “That’s all we really need to know. They’re still on the road to Lugau, so we go to Lugau. I think it’s pretty much straight north of here, so we ride as fast as we can and hope to catch them on the way. If they ride faster, we’ll still catch up with them in Lugau. Let’s get moving. The sooner we capture them, the sooner we can go home again.”

They rode as hard as they dared. Their horses were getting tired from the chase, and showing signs of weakness. Harold varied his pace to give them some rest, but he wouldn’t take even a day off from the pursuit. Two days later he ran into some more bad luck. His men had just remounted after a rest break in the afternoon when they saw a squadron of men at arms in scale armor coming up the road behind them.

“Halt! Stop right there!” shouted the tall man who led the men. “I am Trevor, captain of this patrol. Who are you and why are you riding in armor here in the barony of Caslia?”

“I am Harold, captain of these men. We have been sent by our lord, Count Frosmelino on behalf of our sovereign, Duke Mittanolo of Phada. We are pursuing men who stole the duke’s coronet more than a month ago. They have evaded us several times, but they are now ahead of us. Please allow us to pass.”

“Sir, those pack animals are carrying freshly cut meat,” noticed one of the local warriors. “These may be the men who stole that steer in Thornsby.”

“Ah, yes, where did you get this fresh meat?” asked Trevor. “There is no market in this area for two more days. I think you men had best dismount and disarm. I will have to take you all to the baron’s castle. Don’t worry, it’s not a long walk.”

“We outnumber you almost four to one,” observed Harold. “Are you so good that you think that’s a fair fight? If you attack us, we’ll fight fiercely. If you let us pass, we won’t harm you or your barony.”

“It is rather arrogant to insist that we let you commit crimes and then go your way,” countered Trevor. “We are fairly good fighters. As are the rest of my company, who will be here shortly. So, please, do as I request. Dismount and disarm. Now. Please. I will not be so polite again.”

Harold looked at the twenty men in scale armor, then south at the road they had come down. He saw no sign of more troops approaching. We talked our way out of trouble in Barton, but I don’t think we can avoid arrest here. But there’s only twenty of them now. If more are coming, we can be well away before they get here. I can’t let this chase end here in ignominy. He turned to his men and shouted, “Charge!”

The Phadans swarmed over the local men at arms. Their greater numbers let them attack the Caslians from all sides, but the Caslians had better armor and were indeed well trained. After a little confusion at the start, they turned their horses into a circular formation, nose to tail. The riders kept their shields facing outward and defended themselves skillfully.

Harold ordered his men to attack the others’ horses, trying to get a quick victory over dismounted foes. They had killed half the Caslians, but at a cost of eight more Phadans. Fifteen minutes later, Harold saw more men approaching from the south and knew he had made a mistake. He managed to pull his men together and withdraw from the fight. He was glad that Trevor’s men were unable to follow after them, but there were a lot more coming from the south.

Harold led his men at a gallop down the road, but couldn’t draw away from the men chasing them. He looked back and saw the new force was not actually a full company, but only forty more men. In desperation, he swung them around and charged straight into the mass of the pursuers. They caught them by surprise and disrupted their formation, scattering the men widely.

The fight broke up into a mass of individual combats, men fighting other men, no lines, no order, no plan except to win. Harold saw Trevor, once more mounted, and rode up to him. He swung his sword at Trevor’s head, missed, and swung it again in a backstroke that caught the Caslian off guard.

Another Caslian officer was killed by Jesse, and Harold thought things were maybe going to take a turn for the better. The Caslians were somewhat disheartened to see two officers die so quickly. Then Jesse was killed and the mood shifted again. The Caslians pressed hard on Harold, trying to kill him as well. He fought hard, slashing one man’s sword arm so badly it almost fell off. Two of his men came up to rescue him and drive off his attackers.

Harold looked around at the battle. It was over, despite a few men still trading blows. The Caslians had fought well, but they had lost too many men. A dozen survivors were riding away to the south. He looked at the ground and blanched.

The field was littered with dead bodies, and a third of them were his men. Some of the Caslians were merely wounded, but the Phadans were killing all of those. Lane led a few men back to the scene of the first attack. They killed the other wounded Caslians and gathered all the undamaged horses. They put their own dead on the horses and brought them to the larger battle site.

Harold thought about his mission, and its chances of success. I had seventy-six men this morning. Twenty were now dead here, and Lane has brought eight more back from the first charge. That many dead? Let me count my men. Yes, only forty-eight men left. Half a company. Half gone for good, dead, buried. Buried. We have to bury these dead men. More time we can’t spare, but we must honor the dead. We’ll be with them soon enough.

“The road is raised here, making a small ditch next to this slope,” Harold told his men. “Put the bodies in the ditch. Our dead here, theirs over there. Cover them with dirt from the slope. Stick one of our guidons into our grave, and one of theirs into their grave.”

They mumbled through their best memories of the prayers to Death. Harold looked over the Caslian horses they hadn’t killed and gave them to those of his men who most needed a replacement. They had looted the bodies of the dead before burying them, and found a hundred moons in Trevor’s saddlebags. Three hours after they had been stopped by Trevor, Harold and his men were on the road again. They rode hard to get as far as possible from the battle site.

It took two weeks to reach Lugau, and the horses were worn out. The horses they had taken in Caslia had been fresh when they started out, but not any more. All of their original horses were now gone, the last few replaced by stealing new mounts from the towns they passed through. Harold made camp in a field near the city and sent men to get oats, carrots, and apples. He wanted to get his mounts back to health for the return home. These horses would recover with rest and a good diet; the time they spent looking for the rogues should be enough to restore their horses’ strength.

He sent small groups of his men, unarmored so as not to attract attention, into the city to look for the rogues. They spent several days visiting inns, merchants, fences of stolen goods. There was no trace of their quarry. Harold finally called a meeting with his three remaining sergeants.

“Here’s the not very good news,” Harold told them. “The filthy, thieving, murdering rogues aren’t here. I think they pulled the same trick they did after they left Ongar. They went some other way, and we missed where they turned off the direct route to Lugau. We got here first, just like at Filton.

“I still think they’ll come here. One of your men told them we knew they were going to Lugau, Lane. And maybe they’d change their minds about that, knowing we knew about it. But they were supposed to be going to Lugau, not just somewhere north of Grangus. They knew in Barton that we knew about them going to Lugau, and they still went north. They must have had a reason for saying ‘Lugau’ and not ‘north.’ If there was a reason, that reason is still good, and they’ll still come here. They may just be more careful about being seen on the streets.

“In any case, what else can we do? If they went another way, and there were lots of ways to get between Barton and Lugau, they could still be on the road. We took the most direct route and rode fast. If they took a longer route and road just as fast, they’d still be on the road. If they slowed down, which they have done before, it could be a week or more till they get here. We can wait. Maybe.

“Here’s the bad news,” Harold continued. “The count of Ethe lives here and would not like cattle rustling right in front of him. On the road, we were long gone before any baron could chase after us. Well, except for that one in Caslia.”

“Well, maybe steal the cattle somewhere else,” suggested Alvin. “A few of us can go for a ride into the countryside and drive a few head of cattle here. Anyone asks, we say we bought them in a market somewhere.”

“Becoming more brigand-like may be good for our stomachs and purses,” countered Lane, “but we still have the problem of the count living right here. Won’t he find out about our rustling? How do we avoid angering him? We don’t know how long we’re going to be here.”

“I was talking to a guy in a tavern yesterday,” offered Saul. “He told me there’s a Free City northwest of here, called Ochtrup. It’s about two days ride, he said, not too big a territory, but with lots of farms. If we stole stuff there, the count wouldn’t care, since he doesn’t rule it.”

“That’s a good idea, Saul,” admitted Harold. “Let’s send some of the men there tomorrow. Two days each way, we’ll have fresh meat soon. They can scout the area for places we can raid for money, too.”

***

“How long until we get to Lugau, Amos?” asked Fred. “I’m gettin’ tired of this ship. Rockin’ back and forth all day, nothing to look at but the empty sea. My ass appreciates not bouncin’ on a horse’s back, but at least when we ride we see something different every day.”

“Two more days, probably,” Amos replied. “Jeremy said he’s actually goin’ to Ochtrup. It’s a Free City near Lugau. He reckons it’ll be safer for him to sell the coronet there than anywhere else around. There’s a lot of small counties and duchies up here, and all their rulers are possible buyers for the coronet.”

“So when we sell the thing and git rich, what do we do next?” asked Jeff. “I had hoped you coulda talked Vince into mergin’ our gangs. We’d have the numbers and leaders to take on anythin’. And if we joined together, Jenny would’ve trained us, I’ll bet. Think how good we’da been then. More than twenty tough, skilled, well-led men.”

“Vince was pretty set on couples only,” commented Serge. “I understand his argument about guys who get too feisty when they don’t get laid. But what woman wants to go on the road, year round? We could find, maybe, one or two, but a dozen or more? Not likely.”

“We don’t know if we’re goin’ to meet up with Vince’s gang again,” Slim said. “They talked about goin’ to Lugau, but how long are they goin’ to take to get there? We need a job when we get ashore. Maybe not right away. We got a lot of cash, and will git more when we sell the coronet. But we need to consider this now.

“Vince told us how fightin’ brigands was lucrative. He told me that if we hadn’t reduced his gang by killin’ Petey and Ellie, he would have tried to wipe us out. He said our gear and horses would have been worth more than the reward. That’s what they really wanted. Think about that for a minute.”

“You’re right,” agreed Amos. “I heard that conversation, too. Two dozen horses, saddles, swords, other stuff. Even sellin’ at half price, that’s two hundred moons or more from each of us for killin’ all of us. At that point last year, we were lucky to git two hundred moons from a whole job. Goin’ after bandits and brigands for their gear is somethin’ none of us ever thought of, but it makes sense.

“No one cares what happens to brigands, so no one’ll try to punish us for takin’ them out. The money can be good, it seems. If we do what Vince did, namely get some more trainin’, we can be as good as they are, or close to it. Vince told us there’s a lot of cities and towns up north, lots of trade, lots of merchants. That means lots of bandits and brigands unless the local nobles keep them down. Jeremy says most of the nobles don’t put enough effort into that.”

A loud disturbance throughout the ship broke up their talk. Men were shouting, running to grab clubs and short swords, hauling on lines. Jeremy came up to Amos looking pale with fright.

“Pirates!” he cried. “There’s a pirate ship coming our way! They’ll steal everything we have, including the coronet. Can you hide it somewhere? Maybe if we survive, we can recover it.”

“You’re a rich merchant,” declared Amos, “and we’re just rogues. We happen to have a lot of money with us, but that’s the most we’ve had in a long time. We don’t want to lose what we have, much less what we’ll get for the coronet. We’ll defend everythin’ we have rather than let someone else take it. What are pirates like to fight?”

“Like other thieves, bandits, brigands. They fight, kill, steal what they can. They’re usually ruthless.”

“If they’re likely to kill us, we can’t save anythin’. Jeff, get the men armored up. We’ll fight these pirates and take their loot. Jeremy, how do they attack?”

“They like to come alongside a ship and board it,” Jeremy described. “They’ll kill everyone, or spare anyone they think they can get a ransom for.”

“All right, men, when they board this ship, cut them down as fast as you can,” ordered Amos. “Maybe they won’t be expectin’ much of a defense. No prisoners. Just kill them all.”

Half an hour later the pirate ship came alongside and the pirates threw grapples to bind the ships together. Two dozen pirates jumped over the gunwales, yelling ferociously. They swung swords, but had no armor or shields. Amos led his fifteen men against them at once, armored and carrying shields.

Amos ran up to one man in the pirates’ front rank and faked a blow at his head. Instead, he struck the man next to that man, cutting deeply into his neck. The man in front of him was surprised to see his buddy drop so quickly from the misdirected blow. He gaped just long enough to miss Amos’ second blow, which did hit his head.

The pirates fought back, but were at a disadvantage from not having shields. Amos’ men parried the pirates’ attacks and swung back at bare arms, legs, and heads. Despite being outnumbered, Amos and his men soon defeated the pirates. They jumped onto the pirate ship and killed the pirates who were still on it.

An hour after the pirates came alongside, Amos and his men were being congratulated by Colby, the ship’s master, Jeremy, and the other merchants on board. Colby put a few of his men on the pirate ship to sail it into port and told Amos, “We’ll sell this ship when we get to Ochtrup. I’ll give you and your men all the money. You earned it. I can’t thank you enough for saving us.”

***

A week and a half of traveling northwest brought the rogues through the Principality of Wilu, to the city of Boppard. The countryside had been mostly uninhabited, but there was plenty of game to provide food. Their horses had enough grass, but no grain. Beer had been a different matter. They survived on water and a weekly sip of brandy from Horace’s last bottle.

They rested a couple of days in Boppard, enjoying the local beer and letting their horses recover from a long ride. They followed the caravan route for a while, then turned north to cut through the western end of the Grand Duchy of Rosria. This let them avoid the mountains that covered the southern half of Rosria. They continued north and eventually crossed into the County of Ethe. A last week of travel brought them to the city of Lugau on the River Myrtle. No one had followed them.

The architecture of Lugau varied a lot from what Ben had seen in Adallo; more roofs were tiled rather than thatched, the decorative carvings on the buildings showed a new set of figures, painted also but in different colors. Only very important buildings were built in stone. Brick was common for less important structures, and wood was used for ordinary houses. The cities they had passed through on their way north had also been strange yet similar. Every town and city had a large public square with an imposing hall for the town officials. The square also served as the main market at least once a week.

Clothing styles changed, too, but mostly in the type of fabric used. Farther south, cotton was more common, while in the north wool was popular. Even though the season was turning to winter soon and they were almost as far north as they could get in Orilon, the weather was still no worse than chilly.

The streets of Lugau were as narrow as in all other cities he had seen, and as dirty. Slops were tossed from upper floor windows into the street, and horses added their own filth everywhere they went. No one complained about the stench because no one noticed it. If you lived in a city or town, you were used to it. If you didn’t live in a city or town, you lived in the countryside, on a farm, and you were used to it.

***

They took rooms in the Dancing Lion Inn. After stashing their gear, the rogues went out to look over the city. Horace was very fond of studying new and different architecture, and led them through the streets, admiring the novelties he found.

As they entered a square, Horace noticed a flash of red hair down the street. They had reached the door to an inn when they all spotted Amos and a few of his men coming toward them.

“Amos, over here!” shouted Vince. “How have you been doing? Sold that coronet yet?”

“Vince, Jenny, Ben my great benefactor!” exclaimed Amos. “Yes, a few weeks ago when we got here. Jeremy had offered me ten thousand moons for the coronet, and made it fifteen when we saved him and it from some pirates. He just passed on the extra cost to his buyer. We got a thousand apiece, and even better, a steady, easy job. We was hopin’ to run into you guys, so let’s step into this tavern and tell lies to each other.”

Amos told of their mostly dull voyage around northeastern Orilon, until they got to Yil, just northeast of Ethe. Then things livened up.

“Pirates!” cried Amos. “All these ports attract ’em like fleas to a dog. Our ship was attacked in mid-afternoon by a small pirate ship. Maybe thirty guys on it, two dozen who boarded us, tough enough to beat up sailors, but they was surprised to find proper fighters on board. You beat the snot out of us, Vince, and Jenny, but these pirates was like children to us. We killed ’em all and sailed their ship behind us into port at Ochtrup.

“That’s a Free City. It’s allied with the Count of Ethe, but not under his control. They have their own laws and town council to run things. They paid us a couple of hundred each for the pirate ship, as a reward. And they were so impressed by what they heard from the ship captain, they offered us jobs as town guards. Well, it’s way more than that. They had to exile their entire town militia. They was plannin’ to overthrow the town council and rule the city themselves. So the city needs a new militia and they want us to build it up and run it.

“The pay’s goin’ to be good and we’ll all git nice offices and titles. Last year was a disaster for us as a gang. Kidnappin’ you, Polly, was an act of desperation after a long string of losses. And we lost again. You guys saved my ass, and our fortunes with your generosity after the battle with Scarface. And the coronet finally made us rich. Rich for rogues, anyway.

“We talked together on the voyage north about what we’d do after sellin’ the coronet. We really couldn’t decide on anythin’. Some of the guys was gittin’ tired of bein’ on the road all the time. We was all tired of not makin’ any money and bein’ on the road all the time. We talked about doin’ what you do, fightin’ brigands. We also talked of just splittin’ up. Each guy would take his share of the loot and go his own way. This offer from Ochtrup is a good thing for us. We can be tough rogues but with official permission to be tough.

“We could maybe make more cash as rogues. But the city is givin’ us the town castle to live in, free of charge, as part of the job. And servants, food, livery uniforms, even mail byrnies. The pay is extra, and nothin’ to sneeze at either. And they agreed to let us keep any gear from brigands and such. We thought about the money we’d make on the road, on average, in a decent year, and our expenses on the road. And we compared that to what Ochtrup is offerin’ us. Easy choice. We git to settle down, live comfortably, git wives and raise families. Just for keepin’ the town safe.

“We know there’s going to be a lot of work raisin’ a new militia and trainin’ them. And we’ll hafta guard a territory as big as most baronies. But after we git started, it shouldn’t be too hard. The Count of Ethe likes the Free City, and it likes him. So the border is going to be no problem. Trainin’ might be our only problem. We’re not bad, but we’re not as good as you guys. Jenny, any chance of you spendin’ some time trainin’ our men?”

“Not right now, Amos,” replied Jenny. “We came here to find that grimoire for Ben. We need to find the dealer who has it and hope we have enough for his price. Ben’s our first priority right now. But if we have time after he gets the grimoire, sure, I’ll train your men.”

“I was kind of hopin’ you’d give us some trainin’ right away. We’ve got one thing to do before the city makes our position permanent. Kind of a test. We gotta git rid of some brigands who have shown up recently. I guess the city wants to make sure our triumph over the pirates wasn’t just luck.

“The thing is, these brigands raid Ochtrup’s lands, but they live here, just outside Lugau. The count of Ethe is friendly to Ochtrup and might wipe them out for the city. But the city wants us to do it, without his help, to prove ourselves. And there’s about forty or fifty of them, near as I can count them. That’s long odds. They wear studded leather armor, more than most brigands wear. That’s why I’d like a little trainin’ now.”

“I understand, but we’re helping Ben,” countered Jenny. “I don’t know how long it’ll take to find this grimoire. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is. Once we get that for him, I’ll be glad to help you.”

“Look, there’s one of ’em now,” said Jeff. “We’re here to try to count their numbers for certain, and to try to think of a way to attack ’em without angerin’ the count with a battle in his city.”

“Ah recognize him,” Horace exclaimed. “That’s one of the guys who jumped me in Barton.”

“Yeah, he was with the guy who told us they knowd we was comin’ here to Lugau,” agreed Ben. “Do you suppose they’re all here?”

“Did you ever see just one fly around a dead animal?” asked Betsy. “They’ll all be here, all right.”

“Then you’re in luck, Amos,” proclaimed Jenny. “These guys you’re after are also after us, and you, too, if they only knew it. They’re some of Count Frosmelino’s warriors, one of Duke Mittanolo’s friends. They know Ben stole the duke’s coronet. They think he still has it and will try to sell it somewhere. They want the coronet back and they want to bring Ben back for a little hanging.

“If you want to fight them, so do we, but you’ve got their numbers wrong. Frosmelino sent out a whole company, a hundred men, to bring us back. We’ve already killed a few of them, but, oh, let me think, fifteen in Barton, nine more at Dagalar’s Gate. I guess they have at least seventy men still. That’s going to be a real challenge. Do you have a plan yet to attack them?”

“Not yet. I really think they have only forty or fifty men. We can’t agree on the number, but it’s nowheres near seventy or more. They been makin’ raids on the farms in Ochtrup’s territory. We want to catch ’em there, but we ain’t had no luck in that. They don’t raid on a schedule, so we’re tryin’ to find out when they’ll come next.”

“That’s easy,” offered Vince. “Use us as bait. They want us badly. Aside from Ben and the coronet, they want revenge on us for the men we’ve killed. If we lead ’em across the border to Ochtrup, will that be good enough for you? Six of us can’t beat ’em, either, but with your fifteen, we might have enough.”

“Bring your men to me now, if they’re all in Lugau,” instructed Ben. “I kin give you sharp weapons, like what we had when we fought Scarface. You’re our friends now, ’n’ should have good weapons. That’ll help to even up the odds.”

“That’ll be just fine,” agreed Amos. “I’d still like to get my men trained by you, Jenny, but this’ll do for a start. How does two days from now sound? That’s how long it takes to get over the border.”

“That’s good,” Vince declared as Amos left them to find his gang.

***

The rogues stepped out into the street and looked both ways for signs of the count’s men. No one was in sight just now. They walked down the street in the direction they had seen the one man going. They reached the Fish Market and saw Harold. Polly remembered hearing his name in Barton, and they all remembered his face from Dagalar’s Gate.

Ben decided to taunt him with pretended ignorance. He led his friends right up to Harold, smiled at him brightly, and said, “Ah, we meet again. We ain’t never been properly introduced, have we? I’m Ben. I ’spect you knew that. But I don’t know your name. It’s so frustratin’ talkin’ about people when you don’t know their names, ain’t it?

“I say to Vince, ‘I’d like to punch that obnoxious guy in the nose.’ ’N’ he says ‘Which one?’ ’N’ I cain’t say your name, ’cause I don’t know it. I gotta say, ‘Oh, you know, the one who keeps chasin’ us.’ It’d be so much easier, ’n’ convey so much more information, if I could just say your name. So, what is it?”

“I’m Harold, you little git. You think you’re being funny, talking like that? Six of you, not even armed or in armor. So easy to grab right here, right now.”

“Grab us? How?” asked Betsy. “As you say, there are six of us. I only see one of you. Do you think you’re good enough to capture all six of us by yourself? How did that work out in Barton? There’s a city watchman standing over there. What if he calls some of his buddies over to stop the scuffle with us? Do you want to be arrested here? Phada is a long way off. Does Count Frosmelino’s warrant hold good in Ethe?”

“Look, Harold,” declared Ben. “Gosh, that was so easy to say. Harold. Now I can curse you properly. Damn you, Harold! Anyway, Harold, our old nemesis, you wanna capture us. We wanna keep you from doin’ that. For us, the simple solution is to kill you ’n’ your men. Or, if you just went home now, that’d suit us, too, but you won’t go home, will you?”

“Hardly,” countered Harold. “And do you think the six of you can really beat me and my men? I’ve got four dozen with me.”

“We wouldn’t offer a fight if we didn’t think we would win,” answered Jenny. “We’ve been doing pretty well so far. Tomorrow morning we’re going to Ochtrup, northwest of here, on, um, business. We have something we’d like to get rid of, to our advantage, and we think going to Ochtrup will let us do that. Across the border, the count of Ethe won’t care what you do to us, or we do to you. If you’re serious about capturing us, meet us in the Free City State.”

***

“I usta wonder why you was caressin’ Polly’s spear point,” Jeff remarked. “Now I know, and I thank you for sharpenin’ my sword the same way. No good against mail, huh? Oh, well, most thugs don’t wear mail.”

“They’ll be comin’ for us over the border,” observed Vince. “Your counting was good, they admit to four dozen men. We’ll leave early in the morning, and find a good spot for a battle the next afternoon. You and your men should come with us.”

“Fine, we’re camped at the north gate,” said Amos. “The Phadans are camped by Lugau’s south gate. We’ll join you as you ride past. They won’t know you’ve got friends here.”

***

Two days later, at sundown, Harold led his men into a wide field, empty except for a small camp a mile away on a hilltop. He couldn’t see the second camp on the far side of the hill. It was too late for a battle, so he ordered his men to make camp. Will they still be here in the morning? Our horses have recovered enough of their strength, but I’d prefer to fight on foot. If they stay to fight, and fight on foot, they won’t be able to run away from us again. I’ll have to wait to see how they form up tomorrow.

In the morning the rogues had breakfast at dawn and discussed the upcoming fight. Vince and Amos had met after dark and worked out a plan to utterly destroy Harold’s force. Amos needed a complete victory to prove to Ochtrup how good his men were. Vince and the rogues needed a complete victory to put an end to the long chase from Ongar. Mittanolo might still want revenge, but he wouldn’t know where it had fallen short.

Jenny took the left end of their line where her shield could cover their flank. Horace was on the other end, making sure no one went around that end. Polly took the place next to Jenny, and Ben the place next to Horace. Vince and Betsy held the center of the line. They spaced themselves out, ten feet apart, and prepared to fight a free-flowing battle. They would move about as needed, not holding one spot longer than necessary to cut someone. Jenny gave Ben and Polly some last minute instruction in skipping around a battlefield without getting trapped.

Harold led his men out of their camp and formed them up as he had told them the night before. Lane would lead ten men and circle behind the right end. Alvin would lead ten men around the left end. Their flanking movements should put the rogues into a big bag, one they would squeeze tight and shrink their scattered numbers into a small, compact bunch.

The remaining twenty-eight men were split into two lines of fourteen. Harold and Saul took places four men apart in the front of the first line so they could control the fight. As the rogues were crowded into a short line, their half dozen would face double their numbers in front, plus the attacks from behind, toward the middle of Vince’s line.

Harold had spent quite a long time emphasizing that Ben must be taken alive. He knew the duke wanted to hang all of them, but he knew that Ben was the most important prisoner. The others could die fighting as long as they had Ben to bring back alive.

Vince and Jenny had placed their line at the bottom of the hill on which they had camped, making as tempting a target as possible. Harold silently thanked them, since they were on foot and this meant he wouldn’t have to attack uphill. He marched his men across the open field until they were a hundred yards from the rogues. He checked his men one last time, and led them at a run against their foes.

As they began their run, Betsy loosed her first arrow. She knew how fast she could shoot, and how fast most men in armor could run. She assumed she could fire four arrows, slip her bow over her shoulder, and grab her shield and sword before they reached her. Ben and Polly didn’t have her experience in combat, and only planned on three shots with their slings. But Ben could leave his shield in place, and they didn’t have to worry about what might happen to their slings when they were dropped. Ben had improved his magic on the stones, to let it hit a man’s face, rather than his protected head.

Three steps into their run, three of Harold’s men fell dead. Soon another three fell. At fifty yards, Harold and his men began to hear a thundering sound. It sounded like hoof beats, but they didn’t see any horses on the plain. Then they saw them, eight horsemen riding from behind the hill on the left against Alvin’s men; seven more coming from the right against Lane’s men. They were in full mail byrnies, and hit the two bands of the count’s men hard.

Harold’s men attacked the rogues’ line, opening up their own line to deal with the dispersed rogues. The rogues were supposed to be crowded together by now, and they weren’t. They soon learned how sharp their foes’ weapons were. Swords bounced off the metal studs on their armor, but few of the blows hit studs. A sword, spear, or axe that hit leather went through it in a flash. Horace was lopping limbs off with his axe right and left.

A man who had seen Polly and her spear at Dagalar’s Gate found himself facing her again, and was scared. He had seen her kill a man with a poke from behind the line. Now she was in the open, but unconcerned. He put up his shield, parried two thrusts, and closed with her. She stepped back a pace, stood her spear on its point, and shifted her grip on the shaft. He didn’t understand what she was doing until her spear point suddenly jumped up under his sword arm and thrust into his stomach.

Amos led half his men into a group of men on foot. Being on horseback gave them an edge and they made quick use of it. Four men died on their first pass and they kept on riding. They circled behind Harold’s whole formation and attacked the men on the other flank. They killed three men there, and chased after some who ran.

Jeff’s men had already killed five of those men and were duplicating Amos’ move behind their enemies. On the left they killed all the men still trying to reform their line.

Harold was desperate to salvage the battle. He couldn’t understand Vince’s tactics. The rogues were dispersed, ten feet apart, unable to support each other directly. And his men couldn’t double-team anyone. They danced around, moving quickly, striking even more quickly. Their weapons seemed magical, cutting through heavy boiled leather without any effort. Was Ben really a wizard after all?

He charged at Vince and Betsy in the middle of their line, only to have the two ends of that line converge on his force. Instead of being occupied fighting his flanking forces, they were now trying to surround him. He saw the redheaded woman coming toward him and swung his sword at her leg. He saw the blade bounce back from her mail trews, and felt sick. This is the woman who lost her head and was healed. I’m about to be killed by a dead woman. So much for glory. He and his men died well, but they did die.

“Forty-nine horses, forty-nine dead men,” counted Vince. “They’re all accounted for. Good, I was getting tired of seein’ these guys all the time. Thank you once more for helping us get rid of a nasty enemy.”

“Our pleasure,” replied Amos. “Thank you for helpin’ us prove our worth to the people of Ochtrup. Do you mind if we claim the loot? We gotta have somethin’ to prove we wiped these guys out. We’ll give you the proceeds when you come back.”

“That’s fine,” agreed Betsy. “We don’t have time to haggle with horse traders and iron mongers. Ben wants to find his grimoire. If it costs more than we have, we’ll collect our share then.”