Kelfor (The Orthomancers)

Chapter 4

Zivan and Torch are back before the break of day. They have stolen something, for sure. They have stolen a person. They are pushing an elderly man before them, one who seems to be known to Rannyl.

Our water provider takes a step forward. "Well, Chellin."

The newcomer stumbles to a stop. His hands are tied behind his back, and he is gagged. Zivan unties the gag.

Rannyl introduces him to us. "This is Chellin, one of my fellow water hunters. He has a flock of argents. The Istak Legion uses him for their training exercises. It seems he has been contracted by them to follow us now and provide enough water for their squadron."

The man splutters. He is extremely angry. "With wh-what r-right d-do you think you c-can do th-things like this ...?"

Thurifer steps forward. "With the right of the timeworn."

Chellin's eyes flicker. "I has a job to do," he says, defensively. "I be doing no wrong."

"The trouble is, my friend, that if you do your job too well, the trackers will find us."

"And if I don't be after doing it well, my head will swing on one of the posts of Istak!"

"Then you have a difficult decision ahead of you. You can disappear – I would recommend crossing the Boulderstone Pass with us and then skirting Abaloss Rift to the west until you reach Halfstone Pass and can cross back—"

Chellin interrupts, his small eyes hard, accusing. "That is a death sentence! I would never be able to go back! And the Scoriats would take action on my wife, my children. I have family!"

Thurifer simply goes on, ignoring the outburst. "Or you can come with us to Kelfor ..."

"I wouldn't go with you to the nearest dome!" splutters the newcomer.

"Or you can go back to the cohort and make sure that your birds stop bringing water to the Scoriat expedition." Thurifer is staring at his hands but his voice is cold. I am suddenly aware that this seemingly charming man could be hiding a will of stone. I almost step back myself. "Your choice."

Chellin has sucked in his breath. His sharp little eyes look around at us. We stare back. We don't have to pretend to be menacing. We are all aware that soldiers without water will be forced to turn back by the time they get to the Karstik Desert. Even I know better than to appear weak at that moment.

Nobody moves.

Finally, Chellin rubs his hands. He glares at Zivan. "She hurt me," he says, his tone accusing. "She didn't have to be a'doing that, now did she?"

It is Rannyl who answers. "She is a thief. They don't know how to be gentle. You are lucky she didn't strangle you and leave you for dead."

Chellin's eyes slither to and then away from Zivan. "She wouldn't!"

Rannyl shrugs. "What makes you think your life is worth so much?"

"I ... I ..." The man is trying, but anyone could see that he knows full well that he has little claim to a place in posterity. He tries another tack. "Thieves don't kill!"

Rannyl simply raises one eyebrow.

Chellin is coming to terms with his fate. He doesn't like it. "I can't be stopping the birds from coming!"

"Of course you can. You can send most of them back."

"First Legate Belisar will kill me!"

"He might. Unlikely. Just tell them that these here argents are too young to fly so far, so often. Tell them you have to go back to buy more experienced birds. If you only keep, say, fifteen birds with you, the cohort will not be able to go on. It will slow the main bulk of the soldiers down for the time it takes you to return to Astakarth. And ..." Rannyl's face crinkles with amusement, "... you'll be charging them for thirty-five new argents when the birds are yours all along. It isn't likely no soldier will know they are the same ones."