Chapter 12: The Arrangement

Reen woke to a sharp kick in the ribs.

“Wake up, girlie. And wake up your thief.”

It was the village elders, three stooped old men whose large beards did not hide their pickled expressions. Their lapdog Bragg was with them; he was the one who had kicked her. They were all standing a safe distance away from the Ultor.

“I’m awake,” the Ultor rumbled.

“What’s that? What does he say?” chirped one of the elders, the one she privately called Bagneck for the huge wattle that seemed to prop up his chin.

“He says what do you want?” Reen answered.

“What do we want? What do we want?” Bagneck sputtered. “We want what he owes us. We saved his life, didn’t we?”

“I saved his life.”

“Nonsense! Don’t exaggerate,” Longbeard rumbled.

“You’re safe in this cave,” chimed in Bagneck. “They’ve been beating us all night, trying to find this man. We kept him safe! All of us!”

“What are they saying?” the Ultor asked.

“A lot of nonsense and whining,” Reen answered.

“Is he injured?” asked Longbeard. “Can he fight?”

“He’s hungry,” Reen said.

“We’re not asking you, brat,” said Bagneck. “Ask him. Can he fight?”

“They want to know if you’ll fight.”

“Them?”

Reen laughed. “No, these sacks of day-old mash wouldn’t fight a sick child. They want you to fight off the Boss and his men. Free the tribe, so they can be in charge again.”

“Tell him he can have the gold,” Longbeard interrupted.

“Not all the gold,” Bagneck said, “A fistful of gold. Tell him just a fistful.”

“What do we need with gold?” Longbeard demanded. “We never needed it before.”

“Well, we need it now,” Bagneck said. “It’s ours. Go on, tell him.”

“They’re offering you gold—and handful of gold—to fight off the Boss and –”

“No.”

“I’ll ask for more gold, and a goat.”

“No gold, no goats. I’m not a perfuga.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“What’s he saying, child?” hissed Bagneck.

“A mercenary. A fallen warrior. I don’t hire out my services for money.”

“I know about money,” Reen assured him. “Little pieces of metal you trade for food and stuff.”

The Ultor stared at her a moment, and she felt a terrible pang of uncertainty. “Is that not right?”

“No, that’s right,” the Ultor said. “They don’t use money in this village?”

She considered a moment. “You can trade metal pans or spoons for things.”

“I see,” was all he said.

“What is he saying, child!” Bagneck actually stomped his foot.

“He won’t fight for metal.” She almost mentioned that he didn’t want a goat, either, but then she thought better of it. Probably he didn’t realize how important goats were on the mountain. None of the Boss’s men cared about them either. This Ultor seemed smarter than them, but he was an outsider, from a valley. Food practically fell out of the sky in valleys. She’d see if she could get him a goat after all, and he’d be glad later. And if her plan went right, so would she.

“What does he want, then?”

“What do you want?” she asked him.

“Tell them my story.”

“The … whole thing?” She had a sudden moment of panic. She hadn’t wanted to interrupt last night, but she wasn’t totally sure she’d understood all the words he’d said. And it had been a very long story.

“Tell them I am an Ultor, commissioned by the old gods and the New, to avenge the murder of a queen. If they help me, they will be blessed.”

Well, he had seemed smart last night. Maybe it was all the strange words. “I don’t think they’re going to help you just because you’ve got an important job. I think they’re pretty set on you killing the Boss.”

“I cannot delay my quest.”

“At all? Even by a day?”

She got another kick, this time from Longbeard. “You’re supposed to be translating, child, not having a conversation.”

“I’m trying to help you,” she hissed. “He doesn’t want to help you at all.”

“Not help us?” Longbeard thundered. “What else can he do? Starve in this cave?”

Longbeard was an arrogant old fool, but sometimes, by accident, he could stumble on a true thing.

“You have to do whatever it takes to finish your mission and kill this guy Komfo, right?”

“He’s not Komfo!”

“Right, but, the other guy, the –”

“Pseudo-Komfo.”

“Right, Pseudo-Komfo.” She still couldn’t tell if Pseudo was a name or some kind of insult, but it didn’t seem like the time to ask. “You have to do whatever it takes, no matter what, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, these guys will totally help you on your quest. They’ll give you food and water, and a goat and a horse, and gold. But they can’t do that until the Boss is dead. They’re not paying you or anything, they just want to make a donation to your quest. In honor of your queen. But to do that, they need the Boss and his men dead. So … they would need a little help from you first. And since you need their help to get out of this cave and down the mountain to finish your quest …”

He smiled at her. “You’re a very clever little girl.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she didn’t.

After a very, very long pause, during which she began to be concerned that this foreigner was going to turn out as foolish and the fools she already had to deal with—he nodded.

“He’ll do it,” she told the elders. “If you meet his price.”

“That’s more like it,” Bagneck crowed. “What’s he asking?”

Reen knew Bagneck was a mean haggler, so for safety’s sake she demanded three times what the two of them would need. Bagneck immediately started moaning about the exorbitance of the demand, but before he could make a counter-offer, the last elder, the eldest elder, finally spoke.

“Give it to him.”

“What?” Bagneck demanded.

“Give it to him,” Old Gamnon repeated, “All of it. As a price for our freedom, the freedom of our children and our children’s children, it’s really very modest.” And with that Gamnon limped away, allowing Bragg to hand him down out of the little cavern.

“Well, then …” Bagneck seemed baffled—but he wasn’t about to disagree with Gamnon in front of a pair of foreigners like Reen and the Ultor. “Well, then, just you be grateful for our generosity.”

“Very grateful,” Reen agreed, feeling grateful indeed, and a few other feelings as well: confusion and worry, chiefly. Old Gamnon was a better sort than either of his fellow elders, but this sudden generosity seemed entirely too good to be true. It bothered her. It was wrong at a moment when nothing could be allowed to go wrong.

Then Bragg, at Longbeard’s parting signal, brought out a basket and uncovered two beautiful roast chickens. The smell filled the cavern and Reen’s stomach rumbled, distracting her from all thought of anything else. She handed the basket over to the Ultor and prepared to wait until he was done. To her surprise, he broke a chicken in half and gave one half to her.

“For your efforts,” he said, biting into his own half.

She was too hungry to even make a polite protest. She sunk her teeth in. Still warm. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten to eat while the bird was still warm.

Everything was working out perfectly, she thought. And then she caught sight of Bragg out of the corner of her eye. The expression in his eyes, as he watched the Ultor toss away the bare bones of the first fowl and tear into the second, made her shiver. She checked surreptitiously to make sure her knife was still in her boot. Everything was working out perfectly. As long as she stayed smart—and kept a blade handy.

NEXT: BRAGG