Breaking Ranks

Braun: The Prancing Pluto

"Get out of the way!"

I looked over just in time as a mailed man in the liveried colors of Superintendent Salazar galloped past, just missing the trader's cart.

"What the fuck?"

I turned to watch the knight passing, swearing more than a laborer of my station should, but the knight took no heed. I had a heavy load of sweet potatoes in my hands and I swore again as a few of them fell to roll into the middle of the dirty street. This time I heard the rumbling, and paused, jerking backwards next to the cart just in time.

A half dozen riders careened their way through, one bearded noble shouting to the others, though I couldn't make anything out over the clattering of their hooves. I dropped my cargo of sweet potatoes into the cart, perhaps my hundredth load of the day, and paused to catch my breath. The town had been in something of a clamor now. I'd been ignoring it for the last half hour or so, but it had truly reached a fever pitch now.

Frank rounded the corner, leading his packhorse by the reins, wearing a baffled expression.

"What's going on?"

I felt strangely satisfied to not be the only one confused and shrugged my shoulders. The trader stared at the sweet potatoes mashed and flattened into the dirt floor below.

"My sweet potatoes..." he moaned.

I looked past him, toward the Fore Gate, seeing a thickening stream of armored men pushing their way into the city. For a moment I thought the city had been lost, then I saw a standard waving limply, and recognized the colors from my briefing. Foreman Samander's flag, and a few more as well, the soldiers now fanning out behind the walls.

So they retreated inside, then. Perhaps this would be a short siege after all.

"Let's load what we can," he said after a moment. "We might need to leave in a hurry."

It didn't take much longer to stack the final loads of sweet potatoes into the trader's cart. Frank himself wandered off almost without a word, leaving me to see to the horse. Shouts echoed off and on from the nearby walls, along with strumming and clicking noises that I suspected were crossbows being fired.

The decision to stay in the hotel nearest the Fore Gate was beginning to look like a very bad one indeed. It would no one any good if the gate was forced open and I was butchered in the streets—least of all me, when I still had so much to give.

And so I left the cart unattended as evening fell on Sandstone. Evenings are so dramatic in the Agricultural Section; like nothing I've seen before. The walls provide shadows as the ceiling's lights dim and wink off from starboard to port in a crude simulation of the way our ancestors must have lived. Truth be told, it looked a good deal more beautiful than the simple fading of the lights we get up in the bland gray halls of Engineering.

Frank had been steadily unraveling throughout the day, the pressures of his situation gradually increasing, and I suspected the trader was taking comfort in what wine or women his remaining coins could afford him. That made it quite easy to slip away and so I didn't even need to make my excuses as I made my way to the Prancing Pluto—whatever that was. A cursory search of the archives on my data slate showed it to be some sort of dog creature.

In any event, this Prancing Pluto was a rough tavern and with a siege going on it seemed even rougher. I ignored the patches of dark stains in the half-deserted plaza outside, pretending they were merely urine, and strode toward the tavern's lights.

The neon glow of an orb flickered at random intervals, casting an eerie glow to the alley, but it was at least clear that I'd found the right place. I tried to slip in through the door but found myself face to chest with a great big hulking brute.

"You smell like shit," he said by way of greeting.

"If I could just," I said, trying to squeeze by, but one of his great paws pushed me back.

"No. By the Twelve, have you been swimming in shit or something?"

I tried a wheedling tone. "It's my job! I've been hauling dung for the trader. But a man's got a right to a drink, hasn't he? I have coin." There was only silence as an answer. "I just need to get to the stables."

"You've worked in the upper decks?" the bouncer asked, and from his tone I could tell there was genuine curiosity. As well as skepticism.

"Like I said, I have coin." I jangled my pockets. The bouncer seemed to consider this for a while.

"Well, there's no way Felgor's letting anyone in smelling like that, even if you're the fucking Mission Commander himself. Tell you what though. The stable is just down there. Hook a left. I'll unlock the door in a minute. Don't try anything funny."

"Wouldn't think of it," I lied. But I did as I was told, and a minute later I was being ushered into the stables.

"So what are the upper decks like?" the bouncer asked, but I was busy poking around the stables. There didn't seem to be any tall, bearded men with scimitars in here. Just a few horses and a mule.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. The upper decks. It's good. Hey, are there any horse traders around?"

"Horse traders." The man considered this for a moment. "I can wrangle you one." I had visions of the man roaming through the city hauling people in who might have looked at a horse once.

"In the tavern, I mean."

"Could be one. Would you like a drink?"

I blinked in surprise at the man's sudden courtesy. "Uh, yeah, do you have a local red wine?"

"Of course. It's one copper."

I fished one out and handed it to him. He held it in his hand for a while, looking down at it, letting the moment stretch out. "What I meant was the drink by itself was one copper." He made no movement and I reached for another copper that I dropped in his hand. Like a master swordsman sheathing his blade he whipped the coins into his pocket in a single downward strike.

"I'll get you that drink straightaway, sir."

"Wait." On an impulse I pulled out a silver and dropped it in his hand. "For all the trouble of finding the horse trader."

He nodded courteously. "I'll bring you your man, dead or alive."

I chuckled, wondering if I should clarify, but the bouncer had already left. The gloom was dark indeed, one flickering light barely illuminating the place. My impression was that the owner wasn't about to waste money on trivial things like lighting. He seemed the sort that would prefer tapping into his neighbor's wiring rather than spending a copper on paying for his own. Presently the door opened once again, and a tall bearded man in a white robe looked down at me.

"I will leave you two gentlemen to it," the bouncer said behind him in a low rumble, setting the drink down on a bench. "You can use that stall over there."

I felt vaguely uncomfortable. Did he think this was some sexual liaison? But I stayed silent as the hulking bouncer left the stables once again.

"Do you have a white stallion for sale?" I asked, as the door creaked shut.

The man sighed. "Begone, you um, you dung hauler. You are not fit to... oh, what was it."

It was a thoroughly unconvincing performance all around. The man shrugged. "I am sorry. That is what 'Command' said to say."

"Yeah, she would. Anyway... come in close. We can't be overheard."

He gave me a dubious look and raised a hand to his nose. "I would rather not. Speak your piece from over there."