The Kings Man (16 page)

Apparently, it didn’t amuse the little sister either, because she mimicked her big sister and rolled her eyes as if flirting was a chore. She already carried herself like one of the beardless. Garzik grinned. Cheeky-puss reminded him of Piro.

And that reminded him of all he’d lost.

He felt like someone had punched him in the gut. Needing time to think, he left the axe on the wood block and went to the out-house. It was after he’d doused his head and shoulders in cold water and was headed back that he heard someone calling his name. He turned to find Trafyn beckoning from behind a snow-shrouded spruce.

What now?

With a quick glance to make sure no one was watching, he darted over to join Trafyn.

‘I’m running away. Are you with me?’ Trafyn demanded. One eye was swollen shut and he held a bundle to his chest.

Garzik gestured to his face. ‘What happened?’

‘One of those Utland bitches punched me. I nearly lost my eye.’

‘She punched you? What did you do?’

‘Nothing. I just objected to doing women’s work,’ Trafyn said, aggrieved. ‘I’ve had it. I’m not putting up with this any longer. How dare they treat me like a slave?’

‘You are a slave.’ Garzik felt like laughing, but he controlled the urge and searched for words. ‘We’re Utland captives. That makes us their slaves. If you pull your weight, they’ll treat you well.’ While the food lasted. Captain Blackwing had told him the slaves were the first to starve on Utland islands. ‘You just have to work hard.’

‘Why should I work for them? I’m Lord Trafyn’s son. Servants work for me.’

Garzik didn’t know what to say in the face of Trafyn’s wilful blindness.

‘You coming?’

‘Where?’ Garzik gestured to the valley, the sheer sides reflected in the mirror-like bay. ‘The only way out of here is by ship.’

Trafyn glanced up to the peaks.

‘Inland?’ Garzik shook his head. ‘Into the wild highlands.’ He’d heard the perils of the highlands described in songs last night. ‘Didn’t you notice the Affinity beast trophies in the long-hall? There’s nothing in the highlands but dangerous beasts, snow and ice. You wouldn’t last a day on your own.’

‘So you’re happy to be a slave?’

‘Of course not. But I’m not stupid either. When the ships are repaired, Rusan and the other captain will be going back to the hot-lands and I’ll be going with them. That’s when we can escape.’

‘I wouldn’t need to escape if you’d talk to them and explain who I am.’

‘I will, when I know what to say. For now, come back to the long-hall. Keep your head down. Bide your time,’ Garzik advised. He didn’t know why he bothered. ‘We’ll be sailing south soon.’

Chapter Eleven

B
UT THREE DAYS
later, only one of the ships left the valley. Rusan’s stolen Merofynian vessel remained. The captain had decided to lighten the ship. Beds, cabinets and anything vaguely worth using were dismantled and carried off the ship, then distributed.

Garzik gathered that the lightening of the ship meant less of the vessel below the sea’s surface, which meant less drag, resulting in a faster ship. And since the Utlanders slept on deck, belowdeck could be used for storage.

It was another six days before the ship was fitted out to Rusan’s liking. During this time Trafyn managed to keep out of trouble, although Garzik suspected the squire did as little work as possible.

As for Garzik, he kept his mouth shut and listened. The more he listened, the more he understood, and the better he became with the Utland language.

He didn’t mind the work. There was something satisfying about getting things done. In a settlement this size one person’s efforts made a difference. The busy days flew by and, in the evenings, he watched Rusan and Olbin competing for the pretty singer’s favours. It was as good as watching a mummers’ play back home in King Rolen’s court.

Garzik was inclined to think Rusan’s ability to play the pipes gave him an edge with the songstress over Olbin. It meant they shared a love of music. Certainly Jost was out of the running. Even his captured nobleman’s sword and dagger failed to impress her.

That evening, Garzik took his customary place, sitting with his back against the wall, knees drawn up, to observe the long table. Knowing the raiders sailed with the dawn tide, Garzik watched Rusan and Olbin to see if either of them would succeed with the girl tonight. Both seemed equally determined to woo her but, strangely enough, this didn’t cause friction between them.

When Cheeky-puss passed Garzik, he pointed to Rusan and Olbin. ‘Which one will win her?’

The girl blinked at him like he’d missed something.

Recalling Iron-hair and her air of authority, it came to him that Utland women were not prizes, they were partners. He rephrased the question. ‘Which one will your sister choose?’

The girl laughed.

He flushed, certain he was still missing something.

Cheeky-puss’s sharp witchy eyes held amusement leavened with intelligence. ‘You think like a hot-lander. Lazy hot-landers have an easy life. We Utlanders live a hard life.’

She waited as if he should be able to work out what she meant.

He lifted his hands in confusion.

‘In the Utlands children go hungry, children die. One man can’t feed half a dozen children, so brothers make a pact.’ She gestured to Rusan and Olbin. ‘Same mother, different fathers. No need for Sarijana to choose between them.’

They would share her? No wonder his father’s men-at-arms used to tell those stories. Garzik felt heat stain his cheeks and looked away.

‘Hot-landers!’ Cheeky-puss snorted. ‘You think our way is wrong?’ She tilted her head watching him. ‘In the hot-lands what happens to a woman and her children if her man dies?’

Sometimes one of the man’s brothers married the woman and raised the children, but if he didn’t and there wasn’t any family to take her in, the woman was turned out. She had to sell herself on the street to feed her children. Garzik struggled to find the right Utland words.

‘Life is hard.’ Cheeky-puss was nodding before he finished. ‘But Utland life is harder. Men die in battle. They die on raids and fighting Affinity beasts. But they die knowing their family will be looked after.’ She held his eyes. ‘How can you say your way is right and our way is wrong?’

That stopped him in his tracks. Then he thought of something. ‘There’d be enough girls to go around if half of them didn’t become beardless.’

‘Not enough girls is not the problem.’ She rolled her eyes like he was stupid. ‘Who do you think defends our home when the raiders are away? Beardless are brave and fearless. We sing songs about them. I’m going to be –’

‘But...’ What a waste. She was smart and he found her more interesting than her sister, who liked to flirt. One day, when she grew up, Cheeky-puss would set men’s hearts hammering. ‘I’d marry you.’

‘You?’ She threw back her head and laughed. ‘You can’t even feed yourself. You have no sword and no brothers.’

It was true. Shame stung his cheeks. As she walked off, he ducked his head, wrapping his arms around his bent knees. A little later, he saw Cheeky-puss talking with Sarijana. The singer looked his way and laughed.

Angry, he jumped to his feet and stalked out. In the cool night air the narrow valley was illuminated by a froth of stars, which silvered the sea and the remaining patches of snow.

His cheeks cooled, but his heart didn’t. Here he was a slave who didn’t even have place at the table. Back home he was the son of a Rolencian lord. He’d modelled himself on Byren and Orrade, both honourable men.

And not that different from Rusan and Olbin, he had to admit. But they weren’t his people. He didn’t owe them any allegiance.

Tomorrow, he would sail south.

Head home to serve Byren.

First however, he had to escape the Utland raiders, then find Byren, then convince him Mitrovan would make a good spy.

And, if he did all that, he still had to hope Mitrovan discovered something useful, because if he didn’t, Garzik didn’t know how he was going to look Byren in the eye and ask for his forgiveness.

So much to accomplish before he could become the king’s man.

He’d worry about it tomorrow. Right now he was tired. Turning around, he went back into the long-hall, heading for his spot against the wall.

Iron-hair met him halfway. He’d thought she just happened to be passing by him and wasn’t prepared when she stopped to speak to him. ‘You might understand our language, but that doesn’t mean you understand us, belongs-to-no-one. You still have a lot to learn. That you ask questions is a good thing.’ She gave him a nod of approval, then gestured to where Rusan and his raiders sat. ‘Prove yourself and you may yet win a place at the table.’

Then she moved on.

Her approval warmed him, and he was surprised to discover he did want to win a place at the table.

But his loyalty was to Byren. Always would be.

Mind made up, Garzik stretched out and put his back to the long-hall.

He fell asleep, expecting to be up with the sun.

Instead, he woke to shrill, inhuman screams. The raiders rolled to their feet, shouting instructions. Someone lit a lantern, then torches. The beardless came running, even as they threw on boots and buckled weapons. Barefoot women came running with whatever weapons came to hand. Even children of ten and eleven came running, ready to fight.

At first Garzik thought the settlement was under attack, but when he darted outside there were no extra ships in the star-silvered bay.

The sounds came from up the valley, from one of the cow byres. Every able-bodied child and adult ran towards it, torch flames flickering.

By the time they got there, they found that the wall of the cow byre had been torn down, some animals had been dragged off and the remaining animals had run off in a panic.

People shouted, trying to recapture the startled animals. The small, shaggy cows had covered a surprising distance. They were not as docile as cows back home and they tried to kick and bite the youngsters sent after them. The goats were even more cantankerous.

As the Utlanders speculated as to what had attacked the cow byre, Garzik went looking for signs. He took his torch and went around the far side of the hill, where he found a patch of snow with drag marks, alongside manticore prints.

The sight took him back to Narrowneck, when he had been with Piro and they were being stalked by a manticore pride. Clever and cooperative, the manticores had had them cornered and they’d only escaped because Byren and Orrade kept their heads, and Piro killed a manticore. The Utlanders would have admired her.

‘What is it?’ Rusan asked.

‘Manticore.’ Then, in case the Rolencian word was unfamiliar, he mimed the shape of the great feline body and the way the chitinous tail curled over the creature’s back, ready to stab and poison.

Olbin and Rusan nodded their understanding.

‘You know manticores?’ Rusan asked, using an Utland word for the beasts.

Garzik nodded. ‘Last winter a pride stalked me and my friends. We set a trap and killed them all. Took the chitin to make armour.’

Rusan and Olbin exchanged looks and he wondered if they thought he was boasting.

Rusan gestured towards the peaks and the highlands beyond. ‘Winter lingers on up there. They’ll have cubs to feed.’

‘No point chasing them tonight.’ Olbin nodded. ‘Too dangerous –’

‘We can’t let them get away with this,’ Jost protested, stalking over with his friends. ‘They’ll be back. They’ll cause no end of trouble.’

‘We’ll go after them tomorrow,’ Rusan said.

‘Tomorrow?’ Iron-hair joined them. ‘Tomorrow we need the cow byre repaired and reinforced. Two goats and a calf have been taken. We can’t afford to lose more. What do you think, Danja?’

Claw-face – Danja – and a companion came back from further up the valley, arriving in a pool of torchlight. ‘This is a big pride. We found seven separate tracks, but there could be more. At least three were hungry juveniles. If we don’t cull the pride, it won’t be safe to use the high pastures this summer. We’ll have to go into the highlands tomorrow.’

More beardless and raiders had joined them, and they were quick to volunteer.

‘The manticores have a large territory. Last time I was up there I saw two dens, one cave at each end of their territory. They’ll return to one of the dens to hide their kill and feast. We’ll need two groups. I’ll lead one.’ Danja gestured to her companion, a quiet beardless who usually sat back and watched. She reminded Garzik of Orrade and how Queen Myrella had once said of him,
still waters run deep
. ‘Polonika will lead the other.’

The quiet one nodded.

And just like that, Danja was in charge. It didn’t seem to matter to the raiders that she was female. She was beardless, that was enough.

N
EXT MORNING THE
hunters set off. About a dozen beardless remained behind to repair the cow byre. Because Rusan and Olbin had put in a good word for him, Garzik went with the hunters, but not Trafyn. The squire would be happy to be overlooked.