The Serpentwar Saga. Raymond E. Feist

alone with Mustafa. After a second, Boldar said, ‘Is this true? Or are you doing one of your carnival acts?’

      Mustafa shrugged. ‘I don’t know if it’s true. That’s just what I was paid to say.’

      ‘Who paid you?’

      ‘Pug of Stardock.’ The old man took off his turban, revealing a nearly bald pate. Scratching his head, he said, ‘I suspect it’s probably another false lead. I have the distinct impression this Pug is a man who doesn’t wish to be found.’

      Boldar said, ‘This gets interesting. I think I’ll catch up with her and see if she needs help.’

      Mustafa shook his head and said, ‘Find him or not, I have a feeling she’s going to need a great deal of help before this is over. Some idiot left open a critical gate to the demon realm, and a couple of realities could be in jeopardy as a result.’ He yawned.

      Boldar was about to ask what that meant, but considered Miranda getting too far ahead, so he said nothing and left.

      A moment after Boldar left, the other door opened and a man stepped through. Small but striking, he had dark hair and eyes and a closely trimmed beard, and wore a simple robe of black. He reached into a pouch at his belt and pulled out some gold coins. Handing them to Mustafa, he said, ‘Thank you. You did well.’

      ‘Anytime. What are you going to do now?’

      ‘I think I’ll go set up a small test.’

      Mustafa said, ‘Well, enjoy yourself. And let me know how the situation with the demon realm turns out; things could get busy around here if they get loose.’

      ‘I will. Good-bye, Mustafa,’ said the man as he began to move his hands.

      ‘Good-bye, Pug,’ responded Mustafa, but by the time he had spoken. Pug of Stardock had vanished from sight.

       • Chapter Fourteen • Journey

      Erik dismounted.

      Roo grabbed the reins of Erik’s and Billy’s horses and led them away. Erik and Billy ran forward, weapons at the ready, while the maneuver was repeated up and down the line.

      Since leaving Brek’s at Shingazi’s Landing two weeks before. Calis had been drilling the men continually. They were now being trained as mounted infantry. At the first sign of attack, one man in three would lead the horses to be staked behind the line while the other two made a defensive position where instructed. The men had complained about this, saying it made no sense to leave a perfectly good horse and get down to fight, but the complaints had fallen on deaf ears.

      Nakor had laughed it off, saying only, ‘Man and horse gives a much bigger target than man on foot hiding behind a rock.’

      The drills were becoming second nature to Erik and the others, who now waited to see what would happen next. Sometimes, nothing; other times, Hatonis’s company of clansmen from the City of the Serpent River would ‘attack,’ and the results could be painful. The drills were conducted using heavy wooden swords, weighted with lead rods, that were twice the heft of a normal shortsword. Erik swore his own sword was feather-light in his hand after weeks of drilling with the false swords, which he supposed was the point of it all, but the wooden swords could leave heavy welts and even break bones, and the clansmen from the City of the Serpent River seemed to take delight in embarrassing Calis’s company.

      Erik didn’t understand the politics of this strange land; he knew that Calis and Hatonis were old friends, or at least friendly acquaintances, but the other men from that distant city seemed either suspicious or contemptuous of Calis’s men. He asked and was told by one of the soldiers from Calis’s last voyage that clan warriors simply didn’t have much use for mercenaries. Erik took this to mean that only a few leaders, such as Hatonis, knew of their real purpose in coming to this distant land.

      Erik heard a rattle behind him and knew that Roo had returned and was laying down the odd short spears they had picked up at Brek’s. Soft iron, they were designed to be thrown at charging opponents, either injuring them or fouling their shields. Once they struck something, they were useless, as they bent easily, so the enemy couldn’t throw them back. A shout went up from a crest nearby and suddenly it was raining arrows. Erik raised his shield, crouching low behind it, and felt two shafts strike and shatter on the heavy metal and wood. A curse nearby told Erik that Luis hadn’t been as fortunate, and had been struck by the dull point of a practice shaft. Not lethal, these shafts nevertheless stung when they struck, and occasionally they could cause real injury.

      Then another shout signaled the charge, and Erik rose, gripping one of the heavy iron spears. ‘Ready!’ shouted de Loungville. As the charging clansmen came near, Erik tensed, and as if reading his mind, de Loungville shouted, ‘Wait for it!’

      As the clansmen bore down upon them, the men of Calis’s company waited until de Loungville shouted, ‘Throw!’ and Erik and the others motioned throwing the pilum, as the short soft spear was known in the Quegan tongue. Having no practice pilum to use, they couldn’t throw the weapon, so after pantomiming a cast, each man dropped his spear next to where they waited and, with a few audible groans, readied the ponderous practice swords.

      Erik recognized the man bearing down on him, a large somber fellow named Pataki. Erik braced himself and let the man throw the first blow, which he easily caught on his shield. He stepped slightly to his left and threw a roundhouse blow with his sword that got over the top of Pataki’s shield and caught him behind the head. Erik winced, for he knew the blow must hurt, despite the helm the other man wore.

      Glancing around, he saw that his companions were easily repulsing the attackers, and within a minute the clansmen threw down their swords and removed their helms in the mercenary’s sign of surrender. A few of Calis’s company cheered the victory, but the majority were content to stand motionless for a few minutes. Riding most of the day, then suddenly fighting a battle – even if only a mock skirmish – took its toll; most of the men learned to steal rest whenever it was possible, even if only for a minute.

      ‘All right,’ shouted Foster. ‘Pick ’em up!’

      Erik got his practice sword under one arm and was starting to retrieve his pilum when he heard Billy say, ‘This one’s not moving!’

      Erik saw that Pataki was still lying facedown in the dust. Roo was the first to reach him and rolled the bulky man over. He then leaned over and after a moment said, He’s still breathing, but he’s out cold.’

      De Loungville hurried over. ‘What’s this?’

      Erik picked up his pilum. ‘I caught him on the back of the head. I hit him harder than I intended, I guess.’

      ‘You guess,’ said de Loungville, his eyes narrowing as if he was about to launch into another reprimand. Suddenly he grinned and said, ‘That’s my lad!’ He told Roo, ‘Toss some water on him and get your kit together.’

      Roo rolled his eyes heavenward and hurried to where the horses were picketed. He fetched a waterskin and doused the motionless man. Pataki came awake, spitting out the water, and once he had regained his feet, returned to his own company.

      Erik carried his set of pilum, practice sword, and shield to where the horses were waiting. He loaded up his equipment, then waited for Roo to catch up. When the shorter man returned, he said, ‘You really caught him with that head shot.’

      ‘You saw?’

      ‘I was unoccupied at the moment. The fellow who came at me was blind-sided by Billy, so I had nothing to do.’

      ‘You could have lent me a hand,’ Erik said.

      ‘As if you needed one,’ said Roo. ‘You’re turning into something of a terror with that practice sword. Maybe you ought to keep with it when the real fighting starts. You can bludgeon with it better than most men can cut.’

      Erik