Demontech: Gulf Run (42 page)

Finally the chief declared, “We will talk later. Now is time for sleep.” He immediately fell over and started snoring.

Silent took the hint and got a blanket from his saddle. He curled up on the rug next to the chief. Before he fell asleep himself, he thought about the Desert Men’s slaves. He knew how strongly Spinner and Haft reacted to slavery and was afraid that if they knew about it, they’d want to return to the Low Desert to free the slaves. He also knew they’d get slaughtered if they did. He resolved not to tell them.

Few of the injuries suffered by the freed soldiers were more serious than could be dealt with by the healing mages and their demons and the healing witches’ potions and poultices. Mostly, those men were malnourished. Their spirits rose rapidly once they were fed and clothed and they realized they were free of the cages. Some of them asked for weapons even before they finished their first meal. Captain Phard, his officers, and NCOs started organizing them by unit type as soon as they’d been fed and looked over by the healers.

They were Bostians, Skraglanders, Zobrans, Easterlies, and sea soldiers of many seafaring nations, as well as soldiers from the captured city states of the Penston Peninsula, and even a handful of men from distant Oskul. There were border guards, lancers, pikers, light horse, light foot, heavy cavalry, heavy foot, swords, archers, and a variety of royal household troops. There were junior officers, grizzled senior sergeants, raw recruits, and everyone in between. None questioned the assumed ranks and authority of the officers and NCOs of the combined battalion that had freed them, and all were willing to accept their leadership and command. They didn’t even question the right of the young Frangerian Marine with the huge axe to be the overall commander. There were no mages or magicians among them; the Jokapcul had summarily killed everyone they believed knew how to control a demon.

Sergeant Rammer took responsibility for organizing them.

The women, children, and oldsters were a bit different. Like the soldiers, most of their injuries were relatively easy to heal with proper care and cleanliness, and they all suffered from malnourishment. But some of them were ill, and some of the women—and even a few children—had infections because of the rough way the Jokapcul had handed them about and used their bodies. Those were more difficult to heal, and some of that healing would have to be on the march; the caravan could not risk staying long in that place.

Fortunately, there were large stores of food. It was the food preferred by the Jokapcul and not much to the taste of others, but it was food, and Fletcher and Zweepee were glad to add it to the caravan’s storage wagons. There was likewise clothing taken from these prisoners or others the Jokapcul had raided and pillaged along the way, so every civilian—woman, child, and man alike—was able to have at least two complete sets of clothing. Many of the freed soldiers had to settle for Jokapcul armor, which they didn’t much like; not only because it put them in the uniform of an enemy, but because the Jokapcul tended to be small and the armor was a proper fit only for the smallest among the former prisoners. However, they didn’t object much to being armed with Jokapcul weapons. Doli and Maid Primrose found seamstresses and dyers who could take cloth and make surcoats for most of the soldiers so they would at least have a surface resemblance to the uniforms of the caravan soldiers and their units.

“Where’s Spinner?”

As soon as all the former prisoners and the soldiers who freed them were fed and she had the “kitchen” crew cleaning up and preparing to fix another meal, Doli ran about asking everybody she knew.

“Where’s Spinner?”

“The same place he’s been all morning,” said the Prince’s Sword named Hyse, looking at her oddly. He pointed to the east, to the edge of the trees where Spinner still slept.

“He’s not dead?” Doli exclaimed. “Oh, I was so worried, nobody would tell me where he was. I was afraid he might have been hurt, but he’s just busy! Thank you!” she called back to Hyse as she scampered to the former battleground.

Hyse stood staring after her. She’d been
afraid
Lord Spinner was hurt? Nobody had
told
her? “But—” he called out, then stopped. If she didn’t know, he was probably better off if he wasn’t the one to tell her.

“Spinner! Spinner, where are you?” Doli cried out as she ran across the battleground, oblivious to the bloody sand under her racing feet. She looked anxiously at everyone, searching for Spinner, but didn’t see him. She was inside the treeline before she realized everyone that she looked at looked away.

“Spinner!”
she shrieked, suddenly terrified that he was dead after all. Bodies lay unmoving in the shade of the trees. Was Spinner one of them? No, they weren’t unmoving, they were wounded and healers moved among them. She ran about aimlessly, looking at the wounded men, seeking Spinner.

“Doli!” Nightbird snapped, and the healing witch bustled to her. “Quiet, woman, you’re disturbing the wounded! Have a care for them.”

“But—But Spinner!” Doli’s eyes were welling with tears. “Where’s Spinner?”

“Come with me,” Nightbird said, laying an arm over Doli’s shoulders.

“Is he— Is he—”

“No, he’s not dead,” Nightbird said comfortingly. “He’s sleeping quietly. I’ll take you to him.”

“He’s sleeping?” Doli squealed joyfully, thinking he was merely resting after the strain of battle.

“Yes, sleeping. Now be calm and come with me.” The healing witch gave her a hug.

Had Doli been thinking more clearly, she would have realized Spinner wasn’t sleeping because he was merely tired. Spinner never lay down to sleep in the aftermath of a battle, he always saw to it that the wounded were cared for and the dead gathered for burial before he took any comfort for himself. “Yes, take me to him, please.” She started walking at random, and Nightbird had to pull her back and point her in the right direction. The healing witch didn’t let go of her.

“Spinner!” Doli cried when she saw him on a pallet of bumber leaves covered with a blanket. She wrenched out of Nightbird’s grasp and ran to him. Kneeling at his side, she caressed his cheek, murmuring to him, then gasped and pulled back. Nightbird grabbed her shoulders and pulled her away before she could throw herself on Spinner.

“He’s sleeping, that’s all. He was thrown from his horse this morning and struck his head. But he’s sleeping now, he’ll be fine.”

“But—But he’s hurt!”

“Shush, shush.” Nightbird gathered Doli in her arms and rocked her. “He’ll be fine. He just needs to sleep. Don’t disturb him now. Let him sleep.”

Doli turned her face up to the older woman, tears running down her cheeks. “He’ll be all right? You—You’re sure?”

“He’ll be fine,” Nightbird said with more confidence than she felt. “Just let him sleep.”

Doli fumbled a hand free and brushed at her tears. “All right,” she said with a snuffle, “I’ll let him sleep.” Nightbird loosened her hold, and Doli broke through her arms to lean close over Spinner and hug him. She rained soft kisses all over his face, murmuring to him to get the rest he needed, promising to care for him when he woke. Then she sat up on her heels.

“You’ll send for me when he wakes?”

“I will.”

“Good.” Doli rose to her feet and used her sleeve to wipe away the last of her tears. “I’m going to find Haft,” she said sternly. “He knew Spinner was injured and he didn’t tell me.”

“Go gentle on him,” Nightbird said to Doli’s rapidly departing back. “He thought he was doing the right thing.”

She found Haft with Sergeant Rammer, who had just finished organizing the new men into units and assigning them officers and NCOs.

“Haft!”

He turned, and groaned when he saw the way she was bearing down on him.

“Haft, we have to talk!”

“Not now, Doli, I’m about to address our new troops.”

“
Yes
now! You come with me so we can talk.”

“In a little while, Doli. There’s something else I have to do right now.”

“Fine. If you don’t want to come with me where we can talk in privacy, we can do it right here.”

Men in the ranks looked at each other. Their new commander was being addressed in a demanding way by someone who looked like a serving girl. Their officers and NCOs, most of whom had just been promoted from the caravan’s existing units, signed them to be quiet, to keep their eyes straight ahead and ignore what was happening in front of them.

“But, Doli, this is important.”

“Yes it is important, Haft. Spinner was hurt and you knew it and you wouldn’t tell me.”

“Doli, the last I heard, you were mad at him. Anyway, there was nothing you could do that the healers weren’t doing better.”

She froze, glaring at him, fists tightly clenched at her sides. “
Me
, mad at
Spinner
? Wherever did you get that idea?”

He made the mistake of shrugging and saying, “You know. After that night he spent with Maid Primrose in Eikby.”

She reacted so fast he didn’t even see the hand that slapped his face until it was on its way back to hit him again. He was barely fast enough to grab her wrist before she connected a second time.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You—You—” she sputtered. She kicked him.

“Doli!” Haft hopped back, letting go of her wrist as he reached for his stinging shin.

She followed, pummeling both sides of his face with open palms. “You—You—”

Rammer sighed and shook his head. He stepped behind Doli and threw an arm around her waist. Ignoring her indignant squawk, he lifted her off her feet and turned around so she faced away from Haft.

“Put me down!”
she shrieked. She flailed her arms and kicked her heels, but couldn’t hit him with any force. “Let go of me, you—you—”

Rammer walked away with her struggling in his arms and protesting.

“Now now, Mistress Doli,” he said calmly. “You’re not behaving like the lady we all know you really are. Haft has important things to do now, and he didn’t hurt anything by not telling you about Spinner.”

“He—He had to bring up that—that—”

Rammer shook his head. “The way I heard it, you
were
mad at Spinner. But that’s over now. We all have other things to do.”

“Put me down, you—you—” She flailed and kicked more vigorously.

“Mistress Doli, I’ll put you down as soon as you stop trying to hit and kick me,” he said firmly.

“You—You—” She kicked and flailed even more violently, then sagged in his arms.

Rammer set her on her feet but didn’t let go immediately. When she was still for a few seconds, he released her and took a step back. “Mistress Doli? Are you all right?”

She slowly turned and glared at him, her face flushed deep red. She pointed an accusing finger and gasped, “You—you—” Then she spotted Haft, both of whose cheeks were glowing bright red from her slaps, and flung her arm at him. “And you too!” she screamed. She spun about and flounced away, head high, fists once more clenched at her sides.

Rammer watched until he was certain she wouldn’t turn back, then he rejoined Haft in front of the new battalion formation.

“Let that be a lesson to you,” he said softly when he reached Haft. “Never,
ever
, remind a woman of her man’s infidelity. Even when he’s not her man and he wasn’t unfaithful.”

Spinner regained consciousness in the afternoon. Doli cooed over him and spoon-fed him broth. Then he went back to sleep. Though Doli stayed mad at Haft, she didn’t go after him again.

Come morning, Silent was the only man in camp other than the slaves who didn’t have an aching head and upset stomach. Which gave him a certain advantage.

He told the chief again what he’d said to him the night before. The chief nodded cautiously to indicate his understanding, and said something to the interpreters. When their translations agreed, Silent decided they weren’t in too much postfeast pain to translate accurately and continued, advising the chief on what he should do.

Before the chief could compose a response, a slave brought a bowl of fermented comite milk for him and his face brightened. The chief eagerly emptied the bowl, then belched and sat quietly with his eyes closed for a few moments. When he opened them, he looked far less hung over. He sounded it too, when he spoke. The translators, who hadn’t had a remedial libation, had trouble keeping up with him. He and Silent spoke back and forth.

By the time the sun was at its zenith, all the Desert Men were up, and most were no longer feeling the effects of the previous night—or near enough that it didn’t affect their ability to move or speak. The chief ordered everybody to eat hearty. They did, though without music, singing, dancing, or more fermented comite milk than was needed for medicinal purposes. When they were all full, the chief dispatched riders deeper into the Low Desert. Silent and the chief made arrangements on how to meet again should they need to.

Soon afterward, the giant was back in the saddle, headed south, returning to the caravan.

The caravan stayed at the Jokapcul camp for three days. The eight hundred former prisoners, bathed, wearing clean clothes, and properly fed, regained strength quickly. The rest, combined with the ministrations of healing magicians and witches, had considerably moved their injuries and ills far along the path to health.

Spinner, however, was up and about the day after the battle. He wanted to move out immediately, or as soon as the new people could be fed into the caravan.

“You’re a fool, Spinner,” Haft snorted. “You had a concussion. They take time to heal. If you mount a horse now and try to do what you have done all along our journey, you will kill yourself.”

“I’m all right, I just have a mild headache,” Spinner replied.

“It’s a small headache now,” Alyline sniffed. “It won’t be tonight if we go now.”

“I’ll be all right, really.”

“Spinner, you’re badly hurt,” Doli told him, wrapping her arms around his chest and pressing her body against his back. “You need rest.”

Even Maid Primrose, who had barely spoken to him since she found out about Doli’s love for him and his for Alyline when she first joined the flight from Eikby, stood before him and lay a gentle hand on his cheek. “You have to rest, Spinner,” she insisted. If you don’t …” She choked back a sob and turned away so he wouldn’t see the tears slide down her cheeks.