7

The Trade

The job itself was fine enough, not as much actual fighting as Ludgar would have wanted, but it was pretty easy and meant they’d secure passage to Mismiyer. The only thing he hated was the walking. So much walking. In the wrong direction to Mismiyer, too. Ludgar calculated that only around 5% of a mercenary's life involves fighting. Around 35% of that was for waiting, and 60% was just for walking. Kathiya had no idea, so she had to take his word for it.

It would have helped if The Lady gave them an easier way to get around, but as it stood they only had one traull, and it was given to the strange weaselly man she forced onto them.

He didn’t look the type to be around a gang; he was far too scrawny and well dressed for that. In fact, he looked more like a lawyer. Perhaps the Moonlight Serpents were perfect for him after all.

They continued on through the forest, only the sharp light of the midnight moon guiding the way. Shadowstalkers screamed and barked throughout the forest, engaging in their own private disputes.

Kathiya sidled up to Caspar, whose axe was sitting along his shoulders and his arms hanging down from the haft.

‘You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you, why are you here?’

‘... That’s a little blunt, isn’t it?’ Caspar responded, caught off guard.

‘No, I don’t mean it like that. Just… why join us?’

‘Because you were… uh… available?’ He said, not fully sure he knew what he was talking about. ‘I mean, I didn’t have many options, and you guys came at the right time.’

‘Then what were you doing before?’

‘I was training.’

‘For what?’

‘The army.’ He said those words so bluntly. Far more emotionless than she ever heard him speak before.

‘You didn’t end up joining?’

‘They wouldn’t let me,’ he said, looking straight ahead.

‘I guess it makes sense. No use having people join if there’s no war to fight.’

Caspar only managed a grunt in response.

‘Then, why be a merc? You know the kind of stuff we do, don’t you?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You just seem like a good kid.’

‘I’m no child, Kathiya. I know the world is far from perfect. I know we can’t always make the right decisions. And I know that sometimes we have to make a bad choice to do something good. I’m young, but I’m not completely oblivious to the way things work.’

His bluntness surprised her a little. He was young, but not as young as he looked, and it was easy to forget that. Making that kind of mistake always felt shameful and embarrassing, if only just a touch.

‘Ah. Yeah… Sorry.’

‘No, it’s alright,’ he said, probably feeling that touch of regret as well. ‘It’s just… I mean, I get it a lot. Everyone assumes I’m younger than I am. It gets kinda annoying, ya know?’ He appeared more cheerful. She couldn’t tell if it was just an act. They rode on for a brief time, an aura of an awkward silence hanging around them, like some thick, greasy blob. ‘So, what about you?’ Caspar said, deciding to pop it. ‘All I know is that you were a thief with the Serpents. How’d that happen?’

‘Uh, yeah. Well…’

‘Shut up,’ hissed the mounted weasel. ‘If you mercs fuck this up, it’s my head on the line, and I don’t want any scumbag thief jumping out at us. So, shut the fuck up.’

It seems the man also had an enormous stick up his arse, and going by his posture, it carried on through his spine and straight up into his neck.

They looked across to Ludgar who gave a vague shrug, and they went on in silence. Best not to piss off the employer.

They walked along the edge of a sleepy creek, moonlight dancing in the shallow current. Lights flickered just ahead. Too deep and consistent to be fireflies.

They had arrived.

The designated meeting place comprised the outskirts of something that could only loosely be called a farm. Its perimeter had some of a fence, and the barn had most of its walls. A small shack sat at the far end, and they assumed that was the farmhouse.

Towards a distant corner, on a hill above the creek, a gang huddled together, clad in dark leather. Their faces hidden in the shadows of their hoods. They were not dressed all that dissimilarly from Kathiya, if only for the hoods.

If thieves had a uniform, that would be it.

They sat round a wooden barrel, and as Ludgar, his crew, and their guest approached, they stood to greet them.

Before Ludgar could figure out something to say, the lawyer man was off his traull and approaching. At a distance, he flashed the contents of his satchel, silver coins gleaming even in darkness.

All was going well. The thieves shifted the barrel over and gestured for the satchel.

The lawyer man was about to toss it over, when Ludgar put his hand in-front and stopped him.

‘The fuck are you doing?’ hissed the lawyer man.

‘Something’s not right, Ludgar hissed back. ‘You!’ he yelled at the thieves. ‘Open it! Show us the stuff!’

‘Money first!’ One yelled back.

‘Fuck no! We showed you the money, you show us the product!.’

Caution is one thing, but this lack of trust was telling. He expected more from a group of thieves.

In situations like this, it would normally be best to just turn and walk away, but there was a satchel full of silver, a barrel full of drugs and their ticket out of the kingdom on the line.

They stared off in a tense silence, hands gripping sheathed blades, notching arrows to bowstrings. One false move could end it all.

‘This is ridiculous!’ exclaimed the lawyer. ‘Here! Jus-’ An arrow had lodged itself into his neck.

She wasn’t fully sure what happened. All Kathiya knew was she was thrown into a bush. She heard yelling, blades locking, and the sound of arrows cutting through the air.

She poked her head through the leaves and branches and found Ludgar interlocking blades with another. His teeth white and visible, mouth twisted into a snarl, looking almost like a smile. She picked up her bow, wondering whether or not to help him.

Idiot should have just let them make the deal. If they had been scammed, it would have been on the weasel's head, not theirs; they were just the guards.

She hoped the thief would cut him, just a little. Just to teach a lesson. Nothing too big, or life threatening. Just a scar on his forehead. Enough so that every time he’d look in the mirror, he’d see that scar and feel stupid.

Still, she owed a lot to him. Ever since he paid off her debts and took her in. When she was alone and nobody would even give her the time of day.

She noticed Caspar was having a problem of his own, trying to deal with a thief who was gunning for the coin satchel.

A wide swing of his axe missed the thief completely, but managed to snag the strap of the satchel. At the height of his backswing, it was up and in the air.

Their tussle briefly paused as they watched the satchel fly gloriously through the night sky, coins glistening like the stars that surrounded them, and landed in the creek with a satisfying plop.

‘No!’ the thief screamed as he ran off to wade through the bitter winter water.

Caspar ran in after; he wasn't about to let some grubby thief take the gold for himself, and they splashed about looking for the satchel.

They both began rummaging through the murky midnight water, illuminated only by the gracious white light of Sister Moon Laurus, unsuccessfully locating the fat pile of coin, when Caspar stopped and realised what they were doing. The thief stopped too, most likely realising the same thing. Their eyes met, and in that moment Caspar knew what he had to do.

He hit the thief in the face with the back of his axe.

Ludgar was faring little better. He had his blade locked with another. An angry-looking raccoon; facial patterns forming a natural mask. Funny how certain professions just seem right for some people.

He forced himself forward, pushing the thief back and into the huska barrel. It fell to its side and the raccoon stumbled against its rounded edge. A knee to his stomach sent the thief completely over, and he began sliding down the hill toward the creek.

A quick breath later, it was time to do a quick headcount.

One was struggling to get out of a bush, one was splashing in the creek, one was standing over two corpses, and one was just sitting on a rock.

Yeah, everyone was fine. He then remembered the slumped over body with the arrow stuck in its neck.

Everyone that mattered was fine.

‘Satchel’s gone. Fell in the creek,’ reported the soaked Caspar.

‘Shit. Well, at least we still have the barrel,’ Ludgar said back.

‘Huska’s gone,’ said Ves’sa, without a single shred of emotion.

‘What?’

She pointed down the hill where the barrel must have rolled, lid opened, and a great chunk of the powdery red contents currently floating down river.

‘Oh. Guess they really weren’t trying to scam us.’

‘What does this mean?’ Caspar asked.

‘The fish are going to be happy.’

‘I mean for us.’

‘We’re fucked,’ said Kathiya, still pulling bits of bramble from her hair.

‘It’s not our fault. They could have just shown us the huska.’ Caspar said, kicking up a small tuft of grass.

‘Can’t say I completely blame them. Five strangers plus a weasel? Would you trust you with a deal like this?.’ A question Ludgar directed at Kathiya.

‘Hey! I resent that!’ She wouldn’t have trusted herself either, but that didn’t stop the insult from stinging. Plus, he’d do the thing where he tilts his head up and smiles anytime someone would admit he’s right, and really didn’t want to deal with that right now.

She knew thieves like that, knew that it was about a fifty-fifty shot whether they would accept the deal or shoot them in the back as they left. If they had done it before, they’d do it again.

Then again, they could just as easily have been legit and they would have parted ways without issue; it was a fifty-fifty shot, after all.

‘So why shoot us?’

Why indeed. There are any number of reasons why. Overconfidence? Overly cautious? A simple accident? Anything from a short term financial gain all the way up to gang warfare; the Moonlight Serpents were far from liked by other gangs.

A simple slip from an aching bow arm was just as likely.

Doesn’t matter now.

‘So what do we do?’ asked Caspar.

‘If it’s appropriate,’ Sethel said, standing from his rock, ‘may I make a suggestion?’