Jeer came walking up from the ruin of the fort, Rove half a step behind. He took a long gaze at where we were splayed about the fire. He snorted. “Well ain’t you four just about the saddest excuse for a squad I ever set eyes on.”
We didn’t even bother protesting. We were too tired. Besides, it was probably true.
He glanced over his shoulder, toward the smoking heap where the fort had once been, where, even now, the Wizardborn still no doubt scoured through the ashes for hints of foul play.He turned back to us and shrugged. “Well, sorry as you may be...seeing as how you all just had your first taste of battle, and, seeing as how I am the best damned sergeant I’ve ever even heard tell of, I was thinking of letting you join Rove here on a jaunt to Corum tomorrow.”
Four sets of eyes went from weary boredom to enthusiastic interest in half a heartbeat. Corum was a town, maybe closer to a small city, perhaps half a day out from the fort. Closet settlement deserving the name. A visit was a rare thing; the townsfolk didn’t want soldiers wandering about wholesale, apparently. But with Rove leading us, we’d have the run of the town.
None of us had ever been there, of course, since recruits and regulars were strictly prohibited from visiting unless under the direct supervision of a superior officer, but we’d certainly heard stories aplenty.
“I thought nobody got to go to town without an order from…you know, a proper officer…” Saintly said, though it was clear he was excited at the prospect. By “a proper officer” he meant a captain or above. Someone who’d gone through officer training, whatever that meant. Jeer, as a mere sergeant, couldn’t order us to the town on his own initiative. For all his know how and experience, he still didn’t rank anything much at all in the scheme of the Imperial Army. Though I suppose that was how he wanted it.
“Well look at you. Been paying attention after all.” He slapped his hand on Saint’s shoulder. “As chance has it, with the quartermaster’s office and most of the stores burned down to nothing, the good captain we met earlier ordered me to see to some of the resupplying. And I choose you fine specimens to do the work for me, while I sit here and toast my toes over this fine fire. We call that delegation, my fine lads.” The big man grinned. “You’ll have to report in with the city regiment, and you’ll be responsible for a bit of heavy lifting, but I figure we can spare you for a half day or so to see the sights.”
Corum had a bit of a reputation, you see. Before the war it had been a modest sized town, but with the advent of a nearby fort and the officer corps such a fort implied, it had taken on a certain mythical quality for the regular soldiers assigned to the fort. Recruits around the campfire spoke of it wistfully. Of girls, mostly. Lots of girls. And gambling, if such was your particular poison. Booze and redgum, too, of course. Any wonder such a destination lit a fire in the bellies of a group of healthy young men?
While our collective minds began wandering down the path of the possibilities such an outing might allow, Jeer plucked me from my reverie with a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Telth. A word?”
I hopped up from my spot around the fire and followed him toward the makeshift mess. There was no sign of the good spirits of a few moments before on Jeer’s face, now. “Look. I don’t know what a wizardborn can or can’t tell just by looking at you, but with one so near, I think it best you lay low until the squad heads off tomorrow. Not sure if he’ll stay in the camp or not, but either way, no reason to take chances. Could be he’ll hear our tale from that captain and come to ask a few questions…best you not be here if he does. Find a hole to hide in and stay there. Rove and these three’ll be leaving come first light. Meet them up on the road. I’ll let them know you’re off doing some unpleasant work for me so they don’t go asking questions. Better safe than sorry, eh?”
The prospect of a night out alone in the cold, away from fire and friends, wasn’t exactly what I’d wanted to hear just then, but I knew sense when I heard it. Sometimes. “Right. I should have thought of that. Thanks, sir. I know you don’t have to do this…”
He waved my words away. “And you didn’t have to do what you did with the bleeders back there, either. But you did, didn’t you? Least I can do. Besides, sad sort of sergeant who don’t at least take care of his own, ain’t it?” He slapped me on the back and headed back to the fire.
So that night, as my friends swapped stories around a warm campfire, no doubt dreaming of the pleasures to come in the town on the next day, I spent the night cold and alone, as far out into the jungle proper as I dared venture. Better than coming under the eye of a wizardborn, I supposed, but that didn’t make it a damn bit less unpleasant. Just necessary.
I awoke with the sun, tired and stiff but hopeful. Just as Jeer had suggested, I met my squad mates on the road a few miles west of the encampment. My fellow recruits waved as I made my lazy salute to Rove, who seemed almost surprised by it. Clearly he wasn’t accustomed to being in charge, but with only the five of us he was the only leader we had.
We settled down the Imperial Highway, the only sounds the sighing of the wind through the nearby foliage, the creak of the wagon wheels, and the low, inescapable hum of bustling life from the jungle all around us. Time dragged, as it is want to do when you’re young and impatient and so eager to reach your destination you can think of nothing else, but, as the cool morning air gave way to afternoon heat, the city finally came into view.
Corum wasn’t a particularly large town—I’d passed through many larger on the road to Kemu, and had memories of larger besides—yet it was an old town. It was the sort of place where you walk the streets and feel the bones of still older streets buried beneath.
The town roads themselves were unpaved, aside from the Imperial Highway which ran through it, but they were lined with split timber, forming pleasant avenues. The homes were low and squat, mostly weedwood, as the jungle timber nearby was too short and twisted to be much use for building. But it was all neat and well kept. There was little or no stonework in evidence; here in the jungle, stone was too scarce.
It was a nice sort of town, and the weedwood wall surrounding it was tall and sturdy--weedwood was near as strong as stone and almost as hard to burn--even if it seemed designed more to keep the jungle itself outside rather than any invaders.
We arrived around midday, our wide cart joining a queue of several others standing outside the town gates awaiting entrance. Rove, calm, unflappable Rove, seemed to grow more and more anxious with every step closer we came to the town.
“Don’t much like towns,” was all the man would say, whenever asked about it.
But if he seemed reluctant, Saintly seemed eager enough for everyone. Apparently he’d been up half the night, harassing other squaddies unfortunate enough to be nearby for details on what to expect from a trip to Corum. The details had him squirming, but I more than half figured the other soldiers were telling tales just to see how worked up he would get.
Me, I was more curious than anything. Would the girls really do anything for coin? Anything? And I was thirsty, too. It’d been nearly half a year since I’d tasted wine, and a wineskin, or an ale or two, seemed just the thing.
The wagons were mostly filing to the side of the road outside the town gates, where a small building stood with piles of sacks and barrels arrayed out front. After a few words with the pair of bored looking watchmen, Rove handed over a list of goods and soon enough we were loading up.
Two hours later the wagon was loaded and we were freed to have our way with the city. With a sigh, Rove handed over the meager back-pay we’d been issued, not even bothering with any finger waggling warnings about behaving. He knew it would do no good. And we were off.
We had no trouble finding the section of the town reserved for soldiers, and the particular watering hole clearly set aside for the likes of us. The place was just inside the city gates, and it had a run down, almost temporary look to it, plainly at odds with the neat and well-kept shops and homes all around. The townsfolk’s not-so-subtle way of letting us soldiers know our welcome here wouldn’t last. Still, it suited us just fine. We were too eager to be offended.
The tavern room was big, and crowded, mostly with soldiers and those hoping to part soldiers from their pay. There were a few officers present, ostensibly keeping an eye on the regulars but mostly as drunk as anyone else.
We spent an hour getting comfortable, listening to the jokes, losing a few coins at dice, and ordering lots of drinks. Everyone, from the friends at my side down to the tavern keeper, the girls working the tables, the girls working the soldiers…everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time. Except me.
After an hour of watching my friends get progressively more drunk and, therefore, bold, I confess the entire affair left me confused. The exchange of coin for…, what? A fleeting taste of false companionship? At sixteen it should have seemed the most sensible thing in the world, indeed, I should have been first in line. Yet I wasn’t. I sat there, sipping my ale, observing the boisterous proceedings with a sort of detached bemusement. The women were undeniably pretty, and there was a certain inviting warmth to their figures, yet the magnetic pull my friends seemed to feel was lost on me.
That is, right up until the moment I glanced around that bustling tavern room and my eyes strayed across the floor. Right up until the moment I saw her.
Once I noticed her, I wondered how I’d missed her in the first place. She stood out like a flower in the snow. She sat in a tiny table at the far end of the tavern, near the door, as close to alone as anyone could manage in such a crowded place.
Strangely, no one else seemed to take any note of her. None of the drunken soldiers made sloppy advances. Perhaps, halfway hidden as she was, they didn’t see her. Or perhaps she wasn’t to their taste. She wasn’t dressed like the other girls in the tavern, after all. In fact her garb was downright utilitarian: tight fitting and dark colored; not street clothes, really…closer to the kind of thing you wear when you’re looking to avoid attention, rather than attract it. Not what one expects in a glorified whorehouse. Clearly she wasn’t on the menu.
Yet…she was pretty, certainly. Full lips and bright eyes. Long dark hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. No more than a year or two older than I.
Yet for all of that, it wasn’t her face that caught me. It wasn’t that undeniably alluring body—showed off to good effect in her outfit of choice--which stopped me midsentence from all the way across the tavern floor, and set the rest of the noisy room fading into the background. No. It was the way she watched me.
The tavern was crowded with laughing, shouting, pawing bodies. Two dozen rowdy soldiers and easily as many staff and working girls. Yet of all of them, she had eyes only for me. Like everyone else was just getting in the way. She was staring, really, to the point where, had it been anyone less attractive, anyone less intriguing, I might have thought it rude. Instead I found myself flattered and more than a little confused.
I looked away, thinking. I thought of approaching her, of simply walking up and introducing myself. Perhaps joining her at her table. It was what Saintly would do. Hell, even Span could manage that, with a girl so clearly interested. Yet it turned out I wasn’t nearly so brazen, nor so drunk, as to make such a bold move plausible. Instead I chose the only reasonable option I could think of: I stared back.
This tactic proved disastrous. After only a few moments of mutual consideration, her brow wrinkled. Then she began to fidget. A moment after that she stood and moved to another chair. Not knowing what else to do, I simply followed her with my eyes.
Beside me, Saint, true to form, broke the moment with all his usual good-natured lack of tact. He nudged me in the shoulder, sloshing his ale on my pant leg, and asked, “So, have you finally decided what you’re going to spend your coin on? Or should I ask who you’re going to spend it on?” He laughed uproariously, not even noticing that he was laughing alone. Even Tore rolled his eyes.
I didn’t even bother responding, just wiped ale from my leg and turned back toward the girl, half afraid she might have vanished in the split second interval I had glanced away.
Yet there she was, still watching, still every bit as intriguing as before. What was it about her? She was unlike anything I’d ever encountered. There was beauty there, though at first glance she was no great beauty. She seemed strong, though I could tell her arms held no great strength. She was something fey and ethereal. She seemed…she seemed more the ghost of a girl than anything of flesh and bone. Were it not for the steaming mug she held in the air, I might have truly thought her a spirit, so palpable was the sense of intangibility that surrounded her.
Our eyes locked once more, and this time she flinched. Strange. She didn’t turn away, yet she was quite obviously troubled that I was returning her attention. Why was she so intent on staring if she didn’t want me to stare back?
Before I had a chance to ponder the oddity any further, she turned away, eased her chair back from her table and headed for the door.
At my shoulder, Tore waved for a second round of drinks—he didn’t seem to enjoy the atmosphere of the place as well as Saint did, but he certainly liked the beverages.
My chair squeaked across the wooden floor as I hastily pushed it back and got to my feet. I couldn’t let her just leave. Not without a word. I had too many questions. “I’m going for a walk,” I said to the table at large, already stepping toward the door.
Saint glanced my way and shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He reached for his mug and tilted the thing back.
I turned away, smiling, and hoped my friends remembered that no matter how drunk they got themselves tonight, there would still be work to do on the morrow. And that Rove was notoriously unsympathetic toward the hungover.
A moment later I stepped out of the tavern and onto the unfamiliar street, desperately hoping to catch sight of a ghost.