Zara the Wolf (7 page)

"Come, there's an open area over there which should do."
I pointed to a grassy area. I liked Lutz, and in truth I relished the
opportunity to improve my skill against the long sword everyone used. Any
fights with people would be duels, not hit and run encounters like with the bandits.
When we reached the clearing, we separated, and I nodded my readiness to start.
Lutz began with an aggressive attack using quick strong strikes, which I
countered with an angled sword. I had learned early while training with the
warriors that blocking with your sword perpendicular to your opponent's absorbs
the maximum force, and since I was weaker it usually drove my sword into me or
knocked me off balance. If, however, I angled my sword, then the force of my
opponent's blow caused his sword to slide along mine, dissipating most of the
force. Lutz scored multiple times and finally stopped.

"You're not trying to score. You're analyzing my style,
aren't you?" He said accusingly, then laughed.

I shrugged. "That is how I survived the Ojaza. They
accepted me for training to amuse their youth, planning on crippling or killing
me eventually."

"Do you think you know how to fight me now?"

"I think so," I said, stepping back and readying
myself.

Again he came at me with quick hard strokes. He didn't
repeat any pattern of strokes but varied his attack, probing for a weakness. On
one two-handed strike to my ribs, I stepped in and blocked with my sword
against his arms, then spun away with my sword lying along my spine. He had
recovered quickly, and his counterstrike hit the sword protecting my back. He
laughed.

"I've never seen that move before. Of course, I've
never thought of presenting my back to someone. So you've cut my arm, enough to
sever it or at least cause serious bleeding, and you're unhurt. Yes, you would
win. Clever."

* * *

We worked out on a regular basis over the next several
weeks. Lutz was an excellent sword fighter, and I learned a lot. By the end of
a month, I thought I could hold my own against a good sword fighter.

"I have to admit I never thought of the tribes as being
good sword fighters. But if you consider yourself only average, those warriors
are anyone's equal. And their tendency to attack parts of the body we don't
normally consider targets gives them an advantage."

"Most people confuse savage with ignorant and
incompetent. They may be ignorant in the ways of civilized society, but in the
mountains we are the ignorant ones and their warriors are far better trained
than our average soldier."

"I see your point, but I doubt soldiers or royalty
would," he said after an hour's workout one night. "What do you plan
to do when we reach Calle? Merchant Raigosa only makes the trip to Oberen once
every three or four years."

"No idea. Look for work, preferably that takes me to
another part of Aesona."

"You can use my name as a reference. I have a good
reputation as a guard. And if you let me know where you are staying, I'll tell
you if I hear of anything."

"I'd appreciate that."

* * *

A week later, we cleared the Black Mountains and the ground
became rolling hills and grassland. The temperature rose each day, and the
smell of the ocean filled the air. Everyone relaxed, and the mood lightened as
more and more farms and small villages appeared. Two days later, the town of
Calle lay before us, spread out as far as the eye could see.

"How many?" I asked Cesar, who was riding alongside
me.

"Fifty thousand. Calle is a major port for supplies
needed by the settlements inland. This is Duke Wetzel's domain. He's well liked
and as fair as royalty can be." Cesar gave a small laugh. "He sees
royalty as better than the general citizens, the merchants as providing him his
luxuries, and the commoners as necessary. Even given those biases, most
consider him fair and reasonable. He's probably the best of the Aesona Dukes."

"Where is the best place to look for work?" I
asked, feeling a bit overwhelmed by a town with so many people.
And I had thought Oberen large
. I shook
my head at the thought. Several hours later, we reached the outskirts of Calle
and the road became a dirt street with houses, stalls, and shops on both sides.
As we rode deeper into town, the shops and houses looked sturdier and better maintained.
At one point, we turned toward the ocean and away from the paved road that led
to the walled city and Duke Wetzel's castle.

Raigosa owned a large warehouse less than a mile from the
merchant's market, the place where bulk sales were conducted. The general
market was closer to the city wall, providing easy access from the city and the
surrounding area. I spent the day helping unload the mules and store the items.
When we finished, Raigosa called the caravan guards together.

"Payday, Dimas." Raigosa sat behind a small wooden
desk with stacks of coppers, silvers, and golds. Lutz stood behind him. Dimas
walked up to the desk, talked to Raigosa for several minutes, signed a paper,
and walked away smiling at the coins in his hand. I was last.

"I had my doubts when Lutz recommended I hire you, a
woman with no previous experience. If I hadn’t needed a cook, I don't think I
would've. You worked forty days, that's sixty-silvers. You withdrew twenty silvers
during the trip, so you are due forty, or four golds. I promised you a gold if
you stayed to Calle, so that’s five golds. And I'm adding two golds for saving
the caravan. Here are seven golds and my gratitude. I will offer you a guard’s
job here if you want, but it only pays ten coppers a day."

"Thank you, Merchant Raigosa. I appreciate the offer,
but I want to travel and see the rest of Aesona."

"Talking to Lutz, I thought so. You can use my name as
a reference for any position. I have a good reputation in Calle, even with the duke."
He handed me six golds and ten silvers, which was a good idea. Showing golds
could attract the wrong kind of attention.

"You can give my name as a reference too," Lutz
said. "And I’ll keep an eye open for anything that might interest you. I
recommend you stay at the Lazy Mug. It's clean and reasonably priced, and the
food's good. If you decide not to, let me know where in case I hear something.
You can find me here. I sometimes take part-time jobs, but Raigosa will know
where I am."

I followed Lutz's directions and found the Lazy Mug easily. It
was about two miles from the merchants’ market and two miles from the gates to
the city, which I planned to visit. The room was small but clean. Carillo, the
owner, charged me five coppers a day, which included the room, one meal, and
stabling my horse. Over the next two days, I visited the general market, where
I had a leather shirt and tights made, along with new sheaths for my sword and
dagger. I talked to a couple of merchants about guard positions, but none
interested me since they were primarily in Calle or the surrounding area.

I woke to a banging on my door. Grabbing my sword, I got out
of bed and approached the door.

"What do you want?" I asked, in no hurry to open
the door. It didn't bother me that I only had on a nightshirt—warriors
didn't make an issue of nudity.

"Message from Duke Wetzel," a man shouted in a
deep voice. I opened the door, sword in hand but partially hidden by my leg.
There were three soldiers standing in the hallway, swords in their scabbards,
which I took as a good sign. "Are you Zara, the cook on Merchant Raigosa's
caravan?" asked the older, broad shouldered sergeant, looking me up and
down. The two men behind him were younger, taller, and grinning.

"I'm that Zara."

"The duke would like to see you ... now."

"Can I get dressed first?" I asked, only partially
in gest as the sergeant projected a sense of urgency. Dukes probably had that
effect on people.
I want it now meant
you were already late in getting it
,
I mused but didn't smile.

"Of course. We will wait out here. Don't be long. It’s
a ways back to the castle," he said, confirming my previous thought. I
closed the door, changed into my new leathers, added my wolf trim to my boots,
sheathed my weapons, and opened the door to their shocked expressions. I locked
the door and headed down the stairs, followed by the three men. The two young
ones had their heads together whispering. Outside, there were four horses. I
decided not to question how I would get back, or worse, joke about the duke
giving me a horse. I swung up on the one with no gear and waited as they
mounted.

The ride was made in silence, but it gave me an opportunity
to see the wealthier part of the city and the castle, which was surrounded by a
granite wall twenty feet high and eight feet thick. We entered the castle
grounds through a tunnel with two iron gates and guards at both ends. Inside, it
looked like a small city, and in the center were a large courtyard and a
six-story granite building that looked like it could hold hundreds of people. A
small thin man stood at the bottom of the steps as we approached. His
expression never changed, but his eyes evaluated me as we neared him.

"Minister Niver, this is Zara the cook. Duke Wetzel
asked us to find and bring her to him," said the sergeant, appearing happy
to give me over. Niver nodded and waited patiently as I dismounted.

"Zara, follow me," he said, and mounted the steps
to the castle. Inside, he led me down a long hallway with life-sized statues,
embroidered rugs, and paintings of scenes and people to a door guarded by two
soldiers. As Niver knocked and entered the room, they nodded to him, and then
they stood watching me like I was a loose viper in the hallway. Niver appeared
shortly afterward.

"Zara, the duke will see you now. You will address him
as Your Grace, or Duke Wetzel, and don't speak unless asked a question. Do you
understand?"

"Yes, Minister Niven. I understand," I said like a
good savage. Better to appear stupid than to be stupid. I didn't need trouble,
and I suspected royalty and their help could give you plenty if they chose.

"Good. Give the guards your weapons," he said in a
commanding voice. The guards probably made him feel secure. I unbuckled my belt
with the sheaths and held it out. The older of the two guards took it carefully
like it might bite. Niven then motioned me into the room. A grey-haired man sat
behind a large wooden desk, evaluating me. It was a comfortable room with two
cushioned chairs covered in tan-colored leather, a small table between the two
chairs, and a bookcase filled with leather-bound books—a rare sight. He
motioned to the guard holding my weapons, took each out of its sheath, and carefully
examined it.

"The Earl Pasquel didn’t like you, Zara. What did he
want?"

"To go and wipe out one of the tribes in the Black
Mountains," I said.

"And you refused to help, because?" He appeared
genuinely interested.

"The Ojaza tribe killed my mother and father as I
watched, then made me a slave. I survived because I hated them more than life.
I don't know the tribe in Earl Pasquel's section of the mountains, so I don't
like or hate them. But Earl Pasquel seemed to think he could take his soldiers
into the mountains and wipe them out. I wasn't interested in watching good
soldiers die."

"You think his soldiers would lose to a bunch of
savages?" he asked, but not with a sneer as other royalty had.

"The problem is that people think of the tribes as
savages because of the way they live compared to them. So they think them
stupid and incompetent. They may be stupid in our ways, but they are hunters,
not gathers. Their warriors, which are the majority of the tribe, are better
trained than your soldiers. They are also mobile, capable of surviving on the
run. It would be like sending sheep to kill wolves."

Wetzel withdrew my sword from its sheath. "You believe
this short sword can match our long swords?"

"Your soldiers are trained to fight duels. The tribe's
warriors begin training as children and are excellent sword fighters, but they
fight as a team and are content to cripple if they can't kill."

"Is that what you did when your caravan was attacked?"
He leaned forward, fingers tucked under the chin of his angular face.

"Yes, Your Grace."

Wetzel sat back, his hawk-like eyes watching me for a long
time before speaking. "A baron of mine has asked me to take a group of
soldiers into the Black Mountains. He lost a niece and nephew to a raiding
tribe about a year ago. I guess you aren't interested."

No, I'm not
interested, you idiot. Weren't you listening
? I wanted to scream
but remained calm. This was a duke who could be nice or ugly on a whim, and he
wasn't going to dismiss me as a savage or a child like Earl Pasquel. And I
didn't need ugly.

"If you want, I'll go look," I said.

"How much?"

"A few silvers to buy trail supplies and a letter to
someone in authority to keep my horse and tack while I'm gone."

"You aren’t taking a horse?"

"A horse is a liability in the mountains."

"You are risking your life for a few silvers, and you are
going to free the girl by yourself?" He leaned forward again, his tan brow
furrowed. "Doesn't sound right."

"I'm not asking for money, because I’m not guaranteeing
anything. I've said I'll go look. The girl and boy may have died on the way to
their mountain camp. Three of the six captured with me died on the way to the
Ojaza camp. And if I find them, there is no way I could get them to safety with
the tribe chasing me. It'll be a good two weeks’ travel from their camp to the
lowlands."

"You think you can talk to them?"

"Maybe, but if they know the Ojaza and my story, they
will kill me on sight and give my head to the Ojaza in exchange for horses or
supplies."

"Could you negotiate to pay a ransom for them?"

"If they raided a wagon full of gold coins, they might pick
up one as a trinket. Money is useless to them: can't eat it, or wear it, or
make it into a good weapon. I might be able to trade them for mules or grain or
something more useful than a slave."

Wetzel laughed. "I can see why Earl Pasquel didn't like
you: too practical and logical. Not one of the earl's strong points. Alright.
Niven, give Zara ten silvers and have a letter drafted for me, authorizing the
safe storage of her horse and gear and any assistance she may need, including raising
a ransom."

* * *

I left Calle the next day, heading for the town of Redrock where
the Baron Hillard lived. The town was located near the end of the Black
Mountains but close to the foothills because the town's income came from
mining. I made good time and arrived the morning of the fourth day and found
the Baron's compound easily, as the town only had a couple of thousand full-time
residents. When I asked to stable my horse and gear and showed the sentry my
letter, I was informed the baron wanted to see me.

A soldier led me to the three-story mini-castle, where an
elderly man in a black suit met us and led me up a flight of stairs and down a
long hallway to a room guarded by two soldiers. After a short exchange with the
older guard, I was admitted into a wood-paneled room with a desk and a table
scattered with maps and scrolls.

"Baron Hillard, this is the woman Zara, who Duke Wetzel
sent," my escort said.

"Zara, is the duke sending troops?" he asked, his
eyes bright with excitement. I couldn't imagine him accompanying troops into
the mountains. He was not only overweight, but also he didn't look like a man
who had ever been active, from what I could see of his arms and legs.

"I don't know, Baron Hillard. He asked me to look for
your niece and nephew and determine if anything could be done—"

"Done? Send in a hundred cavalry and kill the savages
and free them!" he shouted. "What good are you?"

"You will have to take that up with Duke Wetzel. I'm
just following his orders. If you will keep my horse and gear, I'd like to get
started."

"Why are you leaving your horse?"

"A horse will slow me down and limit where I can
go," I said, withholding the urge to add,
there are no roads in the mountains you idiot
. He sat staring from
behind his desk for a long time.

"See me when you return. I want to know what you
find," he said, waving for me to go. Outside, I retrieved my bow and
quiver, wolf cap and leggings, and a pack with a week's food supplies. I would
live off the land as much as possible; otherwise, I would have to carry a month
or more of food, which would be heavy and inconvenient. I left the compound at
a slow trot, which I could maintain for six to eight hours at a time. I noticed
the Baron was having me followed, for what purpose I couldn't imagine.
Ironically, by nightfall their horses wouldn't be fit to continue, as my short
rest stops wouldn’t be enough for the horses. I continued through the night in
case the soldiers tried to follow me on foot.

I had no idea where the tribe camped but assumed it would be
high into the mountains on ground where they could set up tents or semi-permanent
huts. Not knowing, I had to be continuously on the alert for signs of their
passing or hunting. Nine days later, I found my first clue, signs of hunting:
camp fires and butchered game. Like the hunters, I had killed several small
game animals for food. In a few weeks, the scavengers would clean up the
remains, which meant the hunters had been here recently, and I was probably not
too far from their camp. Now I traveled only at night. I found them three
nights later in a small valley. There looked to be close to two hundred. After
two more days sneaking around, I had a good feel for the tribe and their
activities. The baron's nephew wasn't there. He could have been stolen or
traded, but was more likely dead. One of the two slave girls was the right age and
matched the description of his niece. That night, I painted a message on a
piece of dry wood and laid it next to the stream they visited:
trade for slave with warrior,
and the
location of what I thought would be a frequently visited area about a day away.
Two days later, a warrior showed up, accompanied by two other warriors who stayed
hidden about five minutes away.

"Morning, warrior," I said in Ojaza. The man was a
typical middle-aged warrior: lean with hard wirily muscles, bronze skin,
hawk-like face, and armed with a short sword and dagger. "Call your
friends and talk finished."

"You strange Ojaza warrior. What want?" he said
with an accent, but the words were understandable. Apparently, the tribes once
had a common language, which had evolved over the years of separation.

"Trade for girl slave," I said, watching him
closely. The tribes were not at war; however, they were not above stealing or
taking hostages for ransom.

"How much? Slaves useful, make good wives."

"Sometimes. Not strong. Lazy. No talent." A slave
wouldn't be considered as good as a woman from the tribe. "A mule on the
other hand ... "

"Mule with metal maybe," he said, testing me. The
tribes traded for everything and were good at it. The question would be the
usefulness of a slave and the difficulty in replacing her versus what the tribe
could get in exchange.
Versus my value
,
I mused as his eyes evaluated me.

"Four-hands long swords," he said.

"Two and a mule," I said, knowing he didn't expect
twenty.

"Three and a mule."

"Three and I pick the girl." Now the hard part
came—the exchange. Unless the sun wasn't coming up tomorrow, both sides would
envision an ambush by the other side, because they would consider one.

"Agree. A mule and three hands of long swords and you
pick the girl," he said, smiling. I'd wager he was already considering the
ambush.

"How do we ensure an honorable trade?" I asked,
wiping the smile from his face.

"You say Sheqn warrior has no honor." His hand lay
on his sword handle.

"I say the people I talk for have no honor. Sheqn
warrior knows that, so ... " I said, implying his tribe had honor but
couldn't trust who I worked for.