wrong!”
“Please let me return and get my children! They’ll starve. You can’t be so heartless.”
“Sheh!” The swaggering man at the front barked a laugh. “They break curfew, and yet they complain about
us
!”
“They could have stayed in their villages instead of running to the city, eh?” agreed another soldier. “Makes ’em look like they have something to hide, I reckon.”
A man broke, making a dash toward the alley snaking away behind the warehouse compound. While the forward contingent of soldiers pressed the rest of the group onward, three others went running after the fleeing man. So no one looked up as the crowd passed under the arch and down the avenue into a night illuminated only by the lanterns carried by the soldiers.
From the alley, a man’s screams rose, then failed abruptly.
After a moment, the three soldiers trotted out of the alley and hurried under the arch after the others, chortling and boasting as if they hadn’t just killed a man.
“So I said, ‘You’ve not fattened up that veal yet.’ Heh. That’s when I called you two over. We’d have given that foreignslave something to trim his pinched face, eh? Thinking he had the right to say no to us, eh! If sergeant hadn’t called up formation just right then, I’d’ve bust him down.”
A comrade answered. “You report him? That you saw an outlander, I mean?”
“Sure I did, but I got no coin because their tent wasn’t there no more when I led the captain over that way. I wonder what happened to that lot of young whores.”
“If they tried to set up in the city, they’ll just be thrown out, neh? Like the rest of these gods-rotted refugees.”
Their laughter faded into the gloom.
His shoulders throbbed and his ankle burned, and he was furious and shaking, but he crept after his companion to the next roof and after that to another, the huge rations warehouse overlooking Terta Square. There, arms hugging the roof ridgeline, they rested.
The square was lit by lanterns fixed on poles. Directly opposite, the temple dedicated to Kotaru was flanked on one side by a militia barracks brimful with enemy soldiers and on the other by a fire station left without a night guard except for its loyal dog. The rest of the square’s frontage was taken up by several large inns and substantial emporia now shuttered and dark. There were four wells sunk into the center, guarded by a contingent of soldiers. A long line of people still waited outside the Thirsty Saw, guarded by yet more soldiers. Several shuffled in through the door while, from the alley that led into the back courtyard of the inn where he had seen the Guardian, ten or more hapless folk came staggering out into the square clutching their left forearms. These refugees were prodded into line. Over in the gloom by the alley entrance lay a pair of discarded bodies.
“How do we get to your temple from here? Which street?”
“Lumber Avenue. Who are you?”
“I am a spy. Not from around here.”
“That I can hear in your speech. Yet there are people who sell information or their services to the army, in exchange for coin or preference or safety.”
“True enough, Holy One. But I’m not one of them.” He sensed a smile from her tone. “I need something from you I can’t get from the army.”
“This reminds me of an episode from a tale, verea. Cruel soldiers. A chatty, attractive spy. A decrepit man of middling years.”
“How do you know I’m attractive, Holy One?”
“You’ve held me close a time or two as we’ve made our way here. I know the feel of a shapely female body. I’m not dead. Yet.”
Her body shook with suppressed laughter. “Then we’ll hope for a happy ending as in the tale, eh?”
He smiled but could not sustain it. “How can I trust you?”
“How can any of us trust, in days like these with an army rampaging down the length of the River Istri, burning and killing as they go? Just like in ancient days, as it says in the Tale of the
“Please let me return and get my children! They’ll starve. You can’t be so heartless.”
“Sheh!” The swaggering man at the front barked a laugh. “They break curfew, and yet they complain about
us
!”
“They could have stayed in their villages instead of running to the city, eh?” agreed another soldier. “Makes ’em look like they have something to hide, I reckon.”
A man broke, making a dash toward the alley snaking away behind the warehouse compound. While the forward contingent of soldiers pressed the rest of the group onward, three others went running after the fleeing man. So no one looked up as the crowd passed under the arch and down the avenue into a night illuminated only by the lanterns carried by the soldiers.
From the alley, a man’s screams rose, then failed abruptly.
After a moment, the three soldiers trotted out of the alley and hurried under the arch after the others, chortling and boasting as if they hadn’t just killed a man.
“So I said, ‘You’ve not fattened up that veal yet.’ Heh. That’s when I called you two over. We’d have given that foreignslave something to trim his pinched face, eh? Thinking he had the right to say no to us, eh! If sergeant hadn’t called up formation just right then, I’d’ve bust him down.”
A comrade answered. “You report him? That you saw an outlander, I mean?”
“Sure I did, but I got no coin because their tent wasn’t there no more when I led the captain over that way. I wonder what happened to that lot of young whores.”
“If they tried to set up in the city, they’ll just be thrown out, neh? Like the rest of these gods-rotted refugees.”
Their laughter faded into the gloom.
His shoulders throbbed and his ankle burned, and he was furious and shaking, but he crept after his companion to the next roof and after that to another, the huge rations warehouse overlooking Terta Square. There, arms hugging the roof ridgeline, they rested.
The square was lit by lanterns fixed on poles. Directly opposite, the temple dedicated to Kotaru was flanked on one side by a militia barracks brimful with enemy soldiers and on the other by a fire station left without a night guard except for its loyal dog. The rest of the square’s frontage was taken up by several large inns and substantial emporia now shuttered and dark. There were four wells sunk into the center, guarded by a contingent of soldiers. A long line of people still waited outside the Thirsty Saw, guarded by yet more soldiers. Several shuffled in through the door while, from the alley that led into the back courtyard of the inn where he had seen the Guardian, ten or more hapless folk came staggering out into the square clutching their left forearms. These refugees were prodded into line. Over in the gloom by the alley entrance lay a pair of discarded bodies.
“How do we get to your temple from here? Which street?”
“Lumber Avenue. Who are you?”
“I am a spy. Not from around here.”
“That I can hear in your speech. Yet there are people who sell information or their services to the army, in exchange for coin or preference or safety.”
“True enough, Holy One. But I’m not one of them.” He sensed a smile from her tone. “I need something from you I can’t get from the army.”
“This reminds me of an episode from a tale, verea. Cruel soldiers. A chatty, attractive spy. A decrepit man of middling years.”
“How do you know I’m attractive, Holy One?”
“You’ve held me close a time or two as we’ve made our way here. I know the feel of a shapely female body. I’m not dead. Yet.”
Her body shook with suppressed laughter. “Then we’ll hope for a happy ending as in the tale, eh?”
He smiled but could not sustain it. “How can I trust you?”
“How can any of us trust, in days like these with an army rampaging down the length of the River Istri, burning and killing as they go? Just like in ancient days, as it says in the Tale of the
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