Tigana by Guy Kay (novel24 txt) 📕

far north, even in midwinter. It had made for a white, chilled second night of riding from Ferraut town where they had started, but Alessan had refused to slow their pace. He had said increasingly little as the night wore on, and Baerd said little at the best of times. Devin had swallowed his questions and concentrated on keeping up.

They had crossed the Astibar border in darkness and arrived at the Nievolene lands just after dawn. The horses were tethered in a grove about a half-mile to the southwest, and the three men had made their way to this gully on foot. Devin dozed off at intervals through the morning. The snow made the landscape strange and crisp and lovely when the sun was out, but around mid-afternoon the grey clouds had gathered heavily overhead and it was only cold now, not beautiful at all. It had snowed again, briefly, about an hour before.

When Devin heard the jingle of horses approaching through the greyness, he realized that the Triad, for once, were holding open palms towards them. Or that, alternatively, the goddesses and the god had decided to give them a chance to do something fatally rash. He pressed himself as flat as he could to the wet ground of the gully. He thought of Catriana and the Duke, warm and sheltered with Taccio in Ferraut.

A company of about a dozen Barbadian mercenaries materialized out of the grey landscape. They were laughing and singing in boisterous exuberance. Their horses’ breath and their own made white puffs of smoke in the cold. Flat in the gully Devin watched them go by. He heard Baerd’s soft breathing beside him. The Barbadians stopped at the gates of what had once been Nievolene lands. They weren’t any more, of course, not since the confiscations of the fall. The company leader dismounted and strode to the locked gates. With a flourish that drew cheers and laughter from his men he unlocked the iron gates with two keys on an ornate chain.

‘First Company,’ Alessan murmured under his breath. His first words in hours. ‘He chose Karalius. Sandre said he would.’

They watched the gates swing open and saw the horses canter through. The last man locked the iron gates behind him.

Baerd and Alessan waited another few moments then rose to their feet. Devin stood up as well, wincing at how stiff he felt.

‘We’ll need to find the tavern in the village,’ Baerd said, his voice so unusually grim that Devin glanced sharply at him in the growing gloom. The other man’s features were unreadable.

‘Not to go inside, though,’ Alessan said. ‘What we do here, we do unknown.’

Baerd nodded. He pulled a much-creased paper from an inner pocket of his sheepskin vest. ‘Shall we start with Rovigo’s man?’

Rovigo’s man turned out to be a retired mariner who lived in the village a mile to the east. He told them where the tavern was. He also, for a fairly significant sum of money, gave them a name: that of a known informer for Grancial and his Second Company of Barbadians. The old sailor counted his money, spat once, meaningfully, then told them where the man lived, and something of his habits.

Baerd killed the informer, strangling him two hours later as he walked along a country lane from his small farm towards the village tavern. It was full-dark by then. Devin helped him carry the body back towards the Nievolene gates and hide it in the gully.

Baerd didn’t speak, and Devin could think of nothing to say. The informer was a paunchy, balding man of middle years. He didn’t look especially evil. He looked like a man surprised on the way to his favourite tavern. Devin wondered if he’d had a wife and children. They hadn’t asked Rovigo’s man about that; he was just as happy they hadn’t.

They rejoined Alessan at the edge of the village. He was keeping watch on the tavern from there. Without speaking he pointed to a large dun-coloured horse among those tethered outside the inn. A soldier’s horse. The three of them doubled back west half a mile and lay down to wait again, prone and watchful by the side of the road. Devin realized he wasn’t cold any more, or tired; he hadn’t had time to think about such things.

Later that night under the cold white gaze of Vidomni in the clearing winter sky Alessan killed the man they’d been waiting for. By the time Devin heard the soft jingle of the soldier’s horse, the Prince was no longer by his side and it had been mostly accomplished.

Devin heard a soft sound, more like a cough than a cry. The horse snorted in alarm, and Devin belatedly rose up to try to deal with the animal. By then, though, he realized that Baerd wasn’t beside him either. When he finally clambered out of the ditch to the road, the soldier—wearing the insignia of the Second Company— was dead and Baerd had the horse under control. The man, obviously off duty, from the casual look of his uniform, had evidently been on his way back to the border fort. The Barbadian was a big man, they all were, but this one’s face seemed very young under the moonlight.

They threw the body across his horse and made their way back to the Nievolene gates. They could hear the men of the First Company singing loudly from the manor-house along the curving drive. The sound carried a long way in the stillness of the wintry air. There were stars out now beside the moon; the clouds were breaking up. Baerd pulled the Barbadian off the horse and leaned him against one of the gate pillars. Alessan and Devin claimed the other dead man from where they had left him in the gully; Baerd tethered the Barbadian’s horse some distance off the road.

Some distance, but not too far. This one was meant to be found later.

Alessan touched Devin briefly on the shoulder. Using the skills Marra had taught