Chapter 12: Jailhouse Blues

"I'm afraid we're getting awfully close to General Essgant's old encampment." Jewel, who was in the lead, paused at the crest of a low ridge to study the forested countryside that lay ahead. "We may have been heading too far to the east the last few days, trying to get around the edge of the swamps, and the Bu'uli must have carried us farther than we thought. These hills are starting to look familiar. What do you two think?"

Amy straightened from tightening a worn sandal strap. "You may be right. Yes, my old village should be over that way, to our right. We should be able to see the shore of the Inner Sea from the next ridge of hills. We'd better head more to the west. We don't want to meet anyone we don't have to."

"I still have a little salt in my pack." Neal started off down the hill, angling to his right as he went. "If we run across an isolated farm, we can use some of it to buy food."

Their packs were all but empty. Jewel had divided out the last of their rations the day before, and their stomachs were protesting. To keep moving in this stronger gravity took a lot of energy, no matter how trail hardened they might be. All three of them had lost weight, the last few weeks, and she knew that they didn't have a lot of reserve fat on their bodies to keep them going. Their pace slowed as the sun rose higher, until by noon they were walking slowly along under the trees.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The harsh voice shocked them to an abrupt halt. Neal gripped his sword as three men blocked their path, then let its point sag to touch the ground as four more stepped out into the trail behind them, blocking their retreat.

"I asked you where you were going, and I want an answer right now. Who are you?"

The seven were soldiers in green tunics, men of the Royal Army. They had the grim look of dedicated, disciplined fighting men, weapons clean and free from corrosion.

"I am Nurm, a trader. These are my helpers. Our pack beasts and other belongings have been taken by outlaws. We need food and clothing, so that we may return to our homes."

"A likely story. You don't look like any traders I ever saw. Gimme that sword. And your knives."

"Gladly. Do you have any food with you?"

"There'll be food back at camp. The General will decide whether you get fed or not."

"Who is your general?"

"Prince Arragin, of course. No more questions, now. Get moving!"

Tired though they were, they had little trouble keeping up with their captors at first, but they kept going hour after hour without stopping. They were all tired, but Jewel could tell that Neal in particular was barely able to stumble along by the time they reached their destination. Essgant's encampment looked like it had been considerably enlarged, taking on almost the appearance of a walled village. Trees had been felled well back in all directions, making room outside of the palisade for a horde of campfollowers of all kinds to pitch their tents. They finally reached the main gate shortly before sunset.

"Ho there, Forgash," the sentry answered the squad leader's hail. "What'd you bring us?"

"Three prisoners," was the blunt answer. "To be questioned. Now, get that gate open."

"Rightoh, Sergeant. Trot them in."

"This way. In here until you're sent for."

"But..." Neal tried to voice a weak protest.

"Shut up!"

They were shoved into a fenced inclosure, and the gate swung shut behind them with she felt was unnecessary force. Somewhere nearby Jewel could hear the grumbling moan of pack beasts, the voices and sounds of an armed camp. The smell was weaker than it had been, though. She thought that this Prince Arragin must at least have some idea of what a camp should have in the way of sanitation to keep its men healthy.

"Come on in. We was jus' sayin' we needed comp'ny."

The friendlysounding voice belonged to a bewhiskered soldier in a tattered uniform. He staggered to his feet, one hand braced against the uprights of the enclosure. In the dim starlight, Jewel could see that one eye was bloodshot, the other almost closed by a swelling bruise. His uniform tunic was stained and dirty, one sleeve torn completely away. His companion, the only other person in the stockade, snored drunkenly by his feet.

"Thanks for the warm welcome." Neal grinned back at him. "I am Nurm, the trader. These two are my helpers and associates, Amy and Jewel."

"I'm Brecker, and this lump of offal is Javvorn. Sergeant Brecker and Corporal Javvorn, if you really have to be formal about it. Or, at least, we was before they threw us in here. I've gotta hunch we'll both be privates by the time they let us out. How come they throwed a trader in the stockade?"

"Just general suspicion. We lost our pack train to outlaws, just getting out with our skins and the clothes on our backs. When we ran into one of your patrols we thought we were finally safe, but they seemed to have other ideas. They wouldn't even talk to us, brought us straight in to your stockade. Say, don't they ever feed you around here?"

"Yeah. Once a day, is all though. First thing in the morning. Since we ain't drilling, marching or working, they feel like we don't need to eat too heavy. Why, you real hungry?"

"We've been on short rations for a while, and then the last time we ate was some time early yesterday. You might say we're hungry, all right."

"Maybe there's something can be done about that. You got any... ?" Brecker rubbed his thumb and forefinger together suggestively.

"I think that we could find something." Neal grinned, unbuckling his belt. "Got a knife on you?"

"No, but I've got something just about as good." Brecker drew off one sandal, pulling something out from between the layers of leather that made up the sole. "Try this."

'This' was a flat piece of metal about the length of Jewel's little finger. One end came to a point, sharpened on both sides, and the other end was bent and shaped into a hook. Neal picked at the stitching along one edge of his belt, pulling out a tiny coin.

"Here's a 'silver'. Will that do the job?"

"That all you've got? It's not much, but I guess it'll have to do." He wobbled unsteadily over to the stockade gate, and called softly between the logs. "Donn. Hey, Donnesh. C'Mere!"

"What you want?" The sentry's voice sounded wary. "I ain't getting you no more booze. Last time I did you a favor, they damn near busted me back to private, too."

"Naw, nothing like that. Can you rustle up some food? My friends, here, say they ain't ate since yesterday."

"Against the rules. Prisoners only gets fed once a day."

"Yeah, but these ain't been fed at all, yet. Just a little something to brace their stomachs against until morning comes."

"Well... I guess so. What's it worth to them? Whatever it is, I'll have to split it with the cook."

"All they need is a little solid food. Just enough for the three of them to munch on, and maybe a little something to wash it down with. It's worth a silver to them."

"It's worth my stripes, if I get caught. A silver ain't gonna get them any too much. Hey, is this the three that Forgash brought in a little bit ago? I just came on watch."

"Yeah. Donnesh, this here's the trader, Nurm, and his helpers, Amy and Jewel."

"Trader? That makes a difference. Glad to meet ya, Nurm. Sure, I'll get you some food. Nothing fancy, like Brekker said. And no wine, neither. Maybe some fresh water for you."

"Water will be fine," Neal told him, and the sentry disappeared into the gloom.

"Donnesh is all right." Brecker grinned, showing a hitandmiss assortment of stained and broken teeth. "He's got proper respect for traders, he has. Not like some I could mention. Say, you three are tall ones. You ain't from any place around here, are you?"

"Amy is. Jewel and I are from far across the mountains. This land and all its ways are all new to us. What part of Khamus do you come from?"

"I was raised right in the old section of Harbassass itself, can't you tell by the way I talk? No, I guess you can't, at that, being a stranger and all. Hey, here's Donn with the grub."

The food was passed in through a hatch in the gate, but not until Neal had tossed Donnesh the promised coin. The food was plain but filling, hunks of spicy sausage and coarse brown bread, but they had no complaints about the amount or the quality. Washed down with draughts of cool water, the food was soon gone.