Chapter 38: Insubordination

As the three rebel soldiers ran towards him, Miro bolted in the opposite direction and even with 2 Intellect points knocking about in his noggin knew that a beeline back to the alley where his friends were hiding was completely foolish. Trying to lose pursuers in a town he’d never been to before might also not have been a task those same 2 Intellect points could handle.

“Hey, you!” one of the soldiers shouted after him and Miro wondered what it was they expected him to do in this situation? Stop dead in his tracks and say “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was me that you are trying to chase down menacingly with swords at your side, my mistake. Good thing we cleared this understanding because my legs were frankly killing me”? How the hell was anyone expected to run after so many weeks of marching ten to fifteen miles every day?

Miro had hardly run a block before his calves turned to jelly and his foot caught between two cobblestones causing him to trip. He managed to use the stumble to his advantage, turning right and bolting down a side street, around a stack of barrels and then making an immediate right turn again. He was conscious of the fact that he was now running back in the direction of the square, but thought maybe that’s what they’d least expect from him. Dashing into an open door, he hoped that the sentiment in this town towards the soldiers was hostile enough that the two women carrying baskets of apples just outside would not helpfully point the soldiers in the right direction.

Through the door he wound up in some kind of tea room. There was a single customer sitting at a table, face low to his cup, and also what looked like the owner, a short man with great white sideburns clearing a plate.

“Hey!” the owner yelled. “Don’t you go draggin’ any trouble in here!”

It took Miro a second to spot another door in the back, and with a shrug that meant to be apologetic, he ran towards it.

“Hey! What did I say? Don’t you go in – Ma!” The old man continued to holler as Miro ran through the other door and entered into a small dwelling that was adjacent to the shop. Here he dashed down a short corridor and into a kitchen where an ancient woman sat in a chair and stared at the view, which was limited to the house that stood across the narrow lane.

There was though another door that led outside and Miro gladly took it as he heard the owner’s mother let out a satisfied phlegmy “Heh” of a laugh.

Outside the tea shop, Miro found that a couple of soldiers were standing a way’s away down one end of the street, while the way was clear down the other, so his choice was obvious. Making a few more random turns while his legs could still carry him, he was now sure he’d lost them. He was also certain that after all those random turns he had not fully lost his way, since at the next juncture he would turn left and find … an empty alleyway.

He had been sure this was the way, the others had to have been here. If they found a need to move elsewhere there must have been danger close by and just at that thought someone hissed his name and he nearly jumped out of his skin before realizing it was Hima calling him from the next alley over.

Once he’d quickly shuffled to the adjacent alley, Hima called him to an open door, and he ducked inside to find the three of them hiding out in what looked to be an empty storage room, with only a few stray bundles of hay strewn about.

“Were you followed?” Nydra asked, shutting the door.

Miro wheezed a couple of times, his hands on his knees as he stood doubled over before them, and then managed an answer, “Unless they were … gazelles … then no.”

“Great going, lad,” Nydra said, giving him a hearty pat on the back as he continued to stand bent over, trying to catch his breath, “Now, what did you manage to find out?”

He told them what he knew, about the rebel soldiers shaking down anyone they could for every last bit of coin, and how many of them he thought there were. No mention was made of Rucien At’hal and how exactly Miro had known that the young mustachioed man was their commander. Nydra listened intently, but Miro could read on her face the gist of what she thought about the situation.

“That is strange behaviour,” she said, tapping her gloved finger on her lips. “I don’t see how this commander expects to get any supporters if he insists on traipsing about, robbing and burning down the countryside.”

“It’s a rebel army,” Peteri said with a hand behind his back, rubbing the feathers on one of his arrows.

“Yes, far less formidable than the one before, and it’s not like we can expect any level of organization or discipline from them. Although from what I’ve seen, they’re unusually well-equipped.”

“Rich patron?” Peteri offered.

“Maybe. One of the lesser Lords vying for succession and too cowardly to come out in opposition to the King?” As Nydra and Peteri mulled this over, Hima and Miro stood back and listened, and judging by Hima’s posture, she was as disinterested in the politics behind all of this as he was. “In any case, that’s not for us to solve,” Nydra said. “I think we learned everything we can here, so we should make our exit.”

In the manner of someone who’s used to giving out orders, Nydra turned towards the back door of the storehouse before getting anyone’s acquiescence, but was stopped in her tracks by the iciest question Miro had ever heard Hima ask. “Excuse me?” A shudder went through Miro, as if they were on that hill again and Hima was about to encase him in an ice coffin.

“Yes, Hima?” Nydra asked slowly with her back still facing the icewinder, before she put on her helm and turned around. Nydra’s face, Miro knew, meant to broach no argument, but Hima didn’t react. With her hood on and the light in the storeroom coming only from the cracks between the wooden boards in its walls, Hima’s face was almost entirely shadow, but Miro thought he could see a faint blue glow where her eyes would have been.

“We can’t just leave these people,” Hima said. “Not when we’ve seen what these soldiers do.”

“We can, and we will,” Nydra answered evenly and Miro realized that she did see the both of them as children, given how much her tone resembled Bondook’s whenever Miro would complain about not being able to practice his powers. “Our orders are clear – keep a low profile as much as possible. This isn’t a nest of razorbacks in the middle of a barren plain. You think battling a company of rebel soldiers in the middle of a town would qualify as a ‘low profile’?”

Miro looked to Peteri, but the old archer had his head slightly bowed, watching both Nydra and Hima with that look on his face that was almost a knowing smile.

“Those are your orders, Nydra, not mine,” Hima said.

“When the Akademiya sent you they –”

“The Akademiya knew who they were sending.” The true height difference between Nydra and Hima didn’t seem to matter in that moment, the icewinder stood like an immovable mountain before the swordswoman. “And you can go on ahead, if that’s what you prefer. I can end this on my own.” And with that, Hima turned to go without them.