Chapter 16 – An Ignoramus for a Confidant

There was a moment of silence, broken when Viktor stood up and said, "Well, lets go see who's arriving."

"You can't be serious," Apple chided. "We need to get ready to fight. Damn, and I was hoping to spring that ambush."

It was left to Flik to ask the question that he thought was most obvious. "How many of them are there? Did you see what units they were?"

The scout answered, "there seems to be only one unit, sir. Maybe about three or four hundred infantrymen." Flik watched as obvious relief spread throughout the briefing room. At least they wouldn't have to fight for their lives tonight. The scout continued, "We've captured some of their pickets, sir. We're bringing them up even as we speak."

"All right!" Viktor shouted happily. "An interrogation." He cracked his knuckles loudly.

"Nothing rough," Apple warned. "We don't need to give Highland any more excuses for their atrocities."

Viktor frowned. "Hey, I'm one of the good guys. All I'm going to do is yell at them a little. That usually does the trick."

With a resigned wave of one hand, Apple ended the meeting. Then she, Flik and Viktor followed the scout to the north end of town. Outside, they strolled through the town, passing, at each intersection, the men who'd drawn sentry duty for the first watch. It was not quite fully dark, the last of the sun's light was fading through the haze in the west. At the edge of the village, they met a group of Holm's rangers, escorting five prisoners. The prisoners were easy to pick out, even in the failing light. They walked dejectedly, not looking at anything in particular save the ground at their feet. Well, almost all of them.

"Hey! Hands off my stuff," yelled one, in a cocksure tone. This one was a lanky young man, thin rather than tall, with a mop of dark brown hair that fell almost to his shoulders in the back. The argument was over his beige jacket, which one of Holm's men was busy trying to appropriate.

"That one," Viktor commanded, pointing at the young man. "Bring him over here." The ranger, giving up on trying to get the jacket, shoved his prisoner in Viktor's general direction. After a few stumbling steps, the prisoner straightened out, almost strutting across the street. The image of a rooster strolling unconcerned towards wolves suddenly popped into Flik's head.

Then said "rooster" noticed Apple. He smiled, smooth face marred only slightly by a cleft chin. "You, ma'am, are looking fine," he said, leering. "I'll let you interrogate me any way you want."

Viktor snorted loudly, and then fought to keep that from breaking into laughter. Apple stomped on the prisoner's foot, and then said, caustically, "Get a different prisoner, Viktor. And lock this one up in the deepest, darkest cell in this stupid town."

The prisoner was not put off in the slightest. "Anywhere you take me is fine, baby. I'm not afraid of the dark, but if you are, there's lots of games we can play-"

In a surprising show of strength, Apple lunged forward and slapped the man hard in the face, pulling him right off his feet. He fell awkwardly on his side, and then absorbed a kick in the ribs, courtesy of the enraged strategist. She might have continued, but Flik and Viktor each grabbed one of her arms and pulled her back.

Still on his side, the prisoner coughed, and then continued with, "Ouch! Spirited, isn't she? Whoever she's with, he's one lucky guy."

At this point, Viktor reached down, grabbed the prisoner by his shirtfront, and hauled him up off his feet. "That's enough of that," he growled. "I've got a game you can play. It's called I ask the questions and you answer them or I give you a broken nose."

Continuing to smile, the prisoner answered, "Oh, that one. That's so old, but I know the rules. Ask away."

Viktor glowered. "Good. How about giving me your name and unit."

"Name's Ace," he answered smoothly. "I'm not in any unit, I'm just a poor merchant from Kirov who's been caught up in this terrible war."

"Like heck you're not," Viktor said, throwing Ace back onto the ground. "Now, if you're going to lie like that, why shouldn't I go and break a couple of your fingers?"

Ace's smile only grew. "My family is expecting me. When I don't return, they'll want to know the reason why. You think the Toran Republic will stand for its citizens being kidnapped and tortured in Jowston? Maybe you want two wars, instead of one?"

Viktor growled in response and seemed to be considering violence, but Flik knelt down next to Ace, reaching for the jacket. "Hey! Hands off!" Ace yelled, showing discomfiture for the first time in a while.

It was a fairly substantial jacket, built for keeping out cold winds. "That's a pretty good piece of work," Flik commented. "What is it, deerskin?

Ace laughed. "No, no, not deerskin. This," he held one edge of the jacket out, "is pure, one hundred percent doeskin. Look at how soft it is. It's great. Come on, touch it; feel for yourself." He held the edge up towards Flik.

Making a great show of it, Flik pulled off a glove and felt the leather of the jacket. "That is soft," he replied. "Must've cost a fortune."

"Right about that," Ace replied. "Cost me about three month's pay it did. Those crafty Redrums have practically cornered the market in textile manufacturing. Not only that, but I had to sneak into Vinay del Zexay to buy it. The captain didn't like that, but it was worth it. You should see how the girls just fall all over me for the chance to-" He paused. "Oh crap!"

Flik nodded. "So you're Zexen, right? Thank you very much."

"You're thinking Gilbert?" Viktor queried.

"Yeah, that's about right."

"Gilbert?" Apple asked. Ace, meanwhile, was bashing his head into the ground in frustration over his stupidity.

"He's another mercenary captain," Viktor answered. "From Zexen. His unit's made up of riffraff that the council doesn't like. You know: thieves, murderers, people like that." Flik didn't comment that a good portion of their own unit's men had "questionable" backgrounds. Viktor continued, "The Zexen council likes it because they get a share of the money, and the troublemakers go off into a sort of permanent exile. I don't believe they're even allowed to return to the capital." He turned towards Ace. "So, what're you in for, buddy?"

Even though he'd just divulged his secrets, Ace remained as talkative and, now that he was being addressed again, cheerful as ever. "Wasn't my fault at all, it wasn't. Who'd have known that she was the daughter of a councilman? And she just threw herself right at me. I mean, it's not my fault, is it?" He looked at Viktor and Flik. "What would you do if some busty, saucy brunette just jumped into your arms and started planting wet ones on your lips? I swear; I didn't know she was already engaged."

"Pig," Apple muttered darkly. "Are we done here?" she asked Viktor. "Can we please lock him up and never let him see the light of day?"

"Nah, I've still got a use for him." Viktor pointed towards one of the scouts. "Find me a bunch of white sheets, the largest you can get."

"You're thinking that we ought to pay Gilbert a little visit?" Flik asked.

"Well, he does owe us a meal," Viktor remarked.

"Wait just a moment," Apple interjected. "You think this is wise, riding over to the enemy camp so you can sit down and eat with an opposing commander?"

"Zexens have some strange customs," Flik clarified. "For instance, if someone partakes of a meal in your home, they are obligated to serve you a meal the next time you visit. Last year, he'd been hired by Muse, and he ate at our fort. He may not want us to show up, but it'll be a matter of honor. He won't refuse. He certainly won't betray us."

Viktor smiled. "Even thieves and murderers respect traditions, just in case they ever need to take advantage of those things at a later date."

"You think you can turn him?" Apple asked.

"Well, we'll see," Flik confided, as some of the scouts returned bearing white sheets.

"Just be careful," Apple chided, and then smiled as she noted Viktor slipping a rope around Ace's neck. "But it would really help things if you could turn him." She walked away, back towards the mayor's house.

With Ace secured, Flik and Viktor, along with an escort of twenty men, rode in the direction of Gilbert's camp. The men had torches, and the sheets had been rigged into flags, hopefully visible in the limited light. Outside the town, the King's Road angled slightly to the west, avoiding the hills and forests to the east. Once again they passed empty farmhouses, heading towards the encampment in the distance. They were not even halfway to the camp before they saw Gilbert's response, in the form of a group of torch-bearing men approaching.

At shouting distance, one of the Zexens yelled, "Halt! State your business or else depart."

Viktor hollered back, "I am Viktor, of Viktor's Mercenary Army. I've come to have dinner with your leader, Gilbert."

There was now a pause, but in short order the same Zexen shouted, "Advance, Gilbert will see you." Viktor and Flik did, followed by the escort, and Ace. The Zexens were led by a sergeant, who took one look at Ace and sighed despairingly. Ace tried to shrink into his jacket. The Zexens guided them to the camp, centered on a large farmhouse. Most of the soldiers had taken up defensive positions behind the stone wall that served to mark this farm's fields from the next farm's.

From the gate in the wall, a man wearing a blue greatcoat and a red cape called, "Well, if this isn't a pleasant surprise; it is good to see old friends again." Flik stifled laughter; Gilbert certainly didn't look too happy. His arms were crossed in front, and the frown on his face only served to accentuate his finely trimmed brown beard, groomed into a point on his chin.

"We were in the area," Viktor bantered happily, "and we thought we'd drop by and catch up on old times. We've even brought you a gift." He tugged on the rope around Ace's neck; the prisoner, who'd slunk back into the shadows, now staggered forward into Gilbert's view.

"Heh-heh…Hi there, boss," Ace said, shuffling his feet and looking at the ground.

Gilbert's frown deepened, heightening the creases in his narrow face. Flik noticed that the hair around his temples was going gray.

Viktor dropped the rope that held Ace. "Well, you've served your purpose. Go on back to your unit."

"I'll have some words with you," Gilbert muttered. "Later." Ace practically sprinted into the camp. Gilbert turned back to Viktor and Flik, sounding a little more pleasant as he said, "Well, come in, come in. I promised I'd serve you a fine Zexen meal, and that's what we'll have." Viktor and Flik dismounted, leaving their horses in the care of the escort, and then followed Gilbert through the camp towards the farmhouse.

The Zexen soldiers looked wary, many of them at work checking their weapons and armor. They seemed to have come to the realization that there might be a battle tomorrow. The house itself was a large, two story building painted in white. It was the house of a prosperous farmer, and his fields stretched for many acres off to the north and west. At the door, Gilbert looked back for a moment, and seemed to hesitate over whether or not to allow them their weapons. In the end, he said nothing, but opened the door and walked in.

The original owners of the house did not seem to be present, and much of the interior suggested a hurried departure. A child's doll rested haphazardly against one wall, ignored and lonely. Slight discolorations on the walls hinted at paintings that had been removed, though by the owners or the Zexens, Flik could not say. Gilbert walked down the foyer, past a set of grand stairs leading to the second floor, and through a door on the left, which opened into a large dining hall with a long table. A number of his sergeants were already there, ten in number, seated along both ends of the table. Gilbert took his place at the head of the table and gestured Flik and Viktor into the two seats at either side.

"By the grace of Sadie," Gilbert began, "we will be able to offer you venison at this meal, though these southern white-tail deer are somewhat smaller than the red deer of my homeland. Now, let us drink to your health." At this, a pair of servers appeared from the kitchen doors, each bearing a decanter. "Fine Zexen greenleaf," Gilbert observed, as the steaming brown liquid was poured into a little porcelain cup by Flik's right hand. Viktor snatched at his cup almost immediately, but was forestalled by an out thrust hand from Gilbert. "First, the blessing," he explained, keeping his tone polite. "If you would all rise," he continued. Standing up with the others, Gilbert placed his right hand over his heart and spoke:

"Sadie, Protectress of the Hunt, we thank you for our bounty. Saint Loa, speaker and guide, may our hearts fly as straight and true as our arrows, to reside with our great Goddess."

Sitting back down, Flik briefly reflected on the Zexen mode of worship. Rather than follow the dominant devotion to the True Runes, they worshiped a deity they called Sadie. This dissent against the True Runes was prevalent in both Zexen and the Grasslands and also, ironically, among the people of Warrior's Village. It was Odessa who'd made him learn these things, rather than his own experiences in those lands. She used to give him books, chiding, "I will not have an ignoramus for a confidant." Flik stared down into his cup of tea. With those words, she had declared her interest in him, and he'd worked diligently to meet her standards, but she'd still slipped away.

"You seem deep in thought," Gilbert said, his words snapping Flik out of his reverie. "Mind telling me what about?"

To stall for time, he took a modest sip of the tea. It was harsh and bitter, as the Zexens preferred it. Gilbert was still waiting for an answer, so Flik replied, "I was thinking about religion, that's all."

Gilbert guffawed and then, after sipping his tea, continued, "I can see why. Sometimes the fact that we don't follow the Twenty-Seven comes as quite the surprise to our clients. Not so much in Jowston, I suppose, but in Highland, and especially Harmonia, it always seems like there's some priest or bishop walking around telling people exactly how the ought to worship, even what words to use. No sir, not at all like Zexen. We like our prayers simple and short. No repetitious empty formulas for us." Gilbert paused to sip again. Viktor had downed his tea with one gulp, and was trying not to look too obvious about his impatience for the main course. Flik remained silent, allowing Gilbert to ask a question. "Since we're on the subject. How about Toran? I've never been there, so maybe you could tell me how you all worship?"

Flik considered for a moment, and then said, "For the most part, they follow the Twenty-Seven True Runes. In Gregminster they're pretty serious about it, but they're also serious about ignoring Harmonian rules. Uh, but in Warrior's Village," he hesitated a moment, "my hometown, they don't follow the Twenty-Seven True Runes either."

"I see," Gilbert mused. "But you didn't say what you yourself followed. You were in the Liberation Army, right? So you've seen one of the True Runes -these gods, as they say- up close and personal. What did you think?"

Flik wondered about what to answer. His first thought was to immediately answer that he followed the Way of the Warrior, but that wasn't entirely true. He'd walked out on the Way years ago, even if he did remember and follow its tenets. Memories intruded on his thoughts, images of Odessa teaching him the devotions for the True Runes. They often prayed those devotions together, both morning and evening. He held those moments close to his heart, but he'd not spoken even a word of the devotions since the day he learned that Odessa was dead.

After thinking about it, Flik decided to dodge the first part and answer the second. "The power of the Soul Eater is undeniable," he said. "As for the rune itself, well, I'm sort of the wrong person to ask about that. You'd want to track down Tir McDohl, if you could. We didn't really speak a whole lot about the rune." Well, we didn't speak more than once…and I still learned far more than I wanted. "He never wanted to talk about it, much. It brought him incredible sadness." It brought a lot of people incredible sadness.

Gilbert nodded, just as the kitchen doors were opened and the main course brought out. The venison was served in thin slices, covered in a mushroom gravy, with a whole baked potato on the side. There was also broccoli in a fine cheese sauce and freshly baked pumpkin bread. Everything was good; Gilbert seemed to have found some aspiring cooks in his unit. The talk during the main course was casual and light, mostly Gilbert's officers talking about their exploits back in Zexen, and about their families. Neither Viktor nor Flik had much to offer to this conversation.

Then dessert was brought out, an apricot pudding that was very sweet. Finally, Gilbert's face became very serious and he asked, "Why have you come here? You did not come just to get a meal off me."

Flik answered, "Why are you fighting for Highland? Just last year you were with us in East Muse."

Scowling, Gilbert replied, "And Muse didn't extend my contract. If they wanted my services, they should've paid the potch."

Flik tried a different tack. "Haven't you heard about the atrocities that Highland committed in East Muse? How can you work with such monsters?

Gilbert did not look very happy as he said, "Because they pay me. Besides, rumors are just rumors; both sides throw them out in every war. It's all just talk."

Seeing that he'd hit a nerve, Flik continued with, "You're letting the potch blind you, Gilbert. Or maybe your Goddess is the type that condones sitting idly by while villages burn and children die screaming?

Gilbert growled out his response, "Zexens do not do that sort of thing." Then he shook his head, collecting himself. "So what, you want me to abandon my contract and turn against Highland? Why should I do that, especially when they're going to win?"

Viktor chuckled. "You've lost your touch, Gilbert. Luca Blight got lucky in East Muse, but now he's overextended himself, and the whole Jowston Alliance is mobilizing against him. How's he going to stand against that? And what about yourself? You're in the scout position, what do you think is going to happen to your unit tomorrow, when you come into battle?

"This whole discussion is worthless. Highland will push you aside and march on to Muse." Gilbert did not sound very convinced as he said this. His sergeants were casting nervous looks in his direction.

"You are a proud Zexen warrior," Flik interjected. "You shouldn't have to dirty yourself by taking potch from scum like Luca Blight."

"Besides," Viktor offered, "we'll take up your contract for this battle, and then you can get a new one from Anabelle. She's got lots of potch to throw around these days." He grinned. "Time to get in on the winning side."

"She has lots of potch, you say? Well then, double my current contract of one hundred thousand potch and you'll have my attention." Gilbert glanced from Viktor to Flik, trying to gauge the reaction.

"Done," Viktor answered.

Gilbert's eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed, realizing that he should've asked for more. Still, he responded, "I guess this…is fate. Okay, we're on your side, now. I hope you've got some sort of plan, because there are five thousand Highland soldiers under Solon Jhee that are going to show up tomorrow, for sure. And there are fifteen thousand soldiers behind them."

"We do," Flik confirmed. "Tomorrow, we'll be in ambush positions in the forests north of town, near the King's Road. When half of Solon Jhee's men have marched past, we'll spring the ambush, drive the unit in two, and smash the southern group against the Matilda Knights, who are waiting to the west."

Gilbert drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "That certainly sounds feasible. I would not want to get caught by such an ambush." He smiled grimly. "What do you want my unit to do?"

"You should report to Jhee that the road ahead is clear," Flik replied. "Then you can march on to Waldron and hold it against any Highland attacks."

"I see." Gilbert thumbed his chin thoughtfully.

"No tricks," Viktor warned. "We've still got some of your men as prisoners, so don't go doing any stupid stuff."

"By the grace of Sadie, there will be no tricks," Gilbert affirmed.

"Good." Viktor nodded. "Then, I think this little meal is done. It's been a pleasure to partake of your excellent hospitality."

The ride back was made in silence. The Blue Moon was now a crescent, far in the west. The Scarlet Moon was higher, just under half full. It was a warm night, slightly humid and calm. Somewhere out in the fields, Flik could hear the sound of bullfrogs croaking. Ahead on the road, some sort of wildcat stalked into view, lifted its head to look at the riders, and darted back into the darkness.

Apple was waiting for them as they returned to Waldron. "So, you survived the dinner date," she remarked. "How did things go?"

"Gilbert has agreed to work with us," Flik announced. "He'll tell Solon Jhee that the road is clear and then march towards Waldron in the morning."

"That works well." Apple nodded. "Go and get some sleep. We'll be moving out for the ambush positions shortly after midnight."