Murtagh

Wren went back to searching the contents of his desk and, after a moment, produced a sheet of parchment covered with lines of runes. “Ah, there we are.” He rang a small brass bell and then dipped his quill in the inkpot. “Let’s see. Task Ivorsson, was it?”

“Yes, sir.”

The captain was already writing the name on the parchment. It was a form; Murtagh could read some of the upside-down words, but he pretended otherwise. A common foot soldier wouldn’t be likely to know his letters.

The door to the study opened, and a young guard entered. At first glance, he reminded Murtagh of a friendly, overeager hound: jowly and red-cheeked, with a shock of straw-colored hair and a ready smile. “You wanted me, sir?”

“I do, Esvar. Task here is joining our merry band, and I need you to stand witness.”

Esvar saluted and stood at attention next to Murtagh. “Sir, yes sir!”

Wren gave him a tolerant smile. Then he read from the parchment. It was a contract outlining Murtagh’s responsibilities to the company and the company’s responsibilities to him. He barely listened; he was familiar with the terms. What bothered him was the part to follow….

“—and make your mark here,” said Wren, handing him the quill and pointing to a blank spot near the bottom of the parchment.

Murtagh drew an X.

“Good. Now, Esvar.”

Murtagh passed the quill to the young guardsman, who also made an X on the contract.

“Excellent,” said Wren, and took back the quill and signed the parchment himself. Only he used runes; the captain had had a noble’s upbringing and education, Murtagh guessed. Or that of a particularly well-off merchant.

Then Wren placed his knotted fist over his heart, and Murtagh followed suit. And the captain said, “Repeat after me. I, Task Ivorsson, do hereby swear—”

Murtagh’s voice caught in his throat, and it was only with conscious effort—and not a small one—that he was able to obey: “I, Task Ivorsson, do hereby swear—”

“—my fealty to Queen Nasuada—”

“—my fealty to Queen Nasuada—”

“—and to Lord Relgin—”

“—and to Lord Relgin—”

“—and to the city guards of Gil’ead, as commanded by Captain Wren.”

“—and to the city guards of Gil’ead, as commanded by Captain Wren.”

“And I swear to uphold all laws and orders—”

“And I swear to uphold all laws and orders—”

“—such as I am subject to as a member of this force.”

“—such as I am subject to as a member of this force.”

The captain smiled, showing his strong, straight teeth, and extended his crooked hand. “Welcome to the company, Task. You’re one of us now.”

“Thank you, sir,” Murtagh said, forcing the words past the constriction in his throat.

“Esvar will get you settled into the barracks, and then he’ll see to it that you’re properly kitted out.” Wren gave the guardsman a mock-stern look. “Do see that he’s kitted out, Esvar.”

“Yessir!”

“Oh, and, Task, do you know if you have any wards on you? Charms against magical attacks or a spear to the skull? That sort of thing.”

“Not that I know of, sir, but then, how would I know?” Murtagh hoped the answer was vague enough to save him trouble later on.

Wren waved a hand. “No matter. We’ll see to it that you’re charmed up tomorrow. I can’t have my men walking around vulnerable to the slightest piece of magic.”

Startled, Murtagh said, “You have a spellcaster in your ranks, sir?”

“Hardly,” said Wren. “We coordinate with Du Vrangr Gata. Their magicians provide wards for everyone who follows the queen’s standard.”

“I see. Thank you, sir.”

Wren waved a hand. “That will be all, Task. Dismissed.”

CHAPTER IX Uniforms

“The captain’s hands, have they always been—”

“You don’t ask about the captain’s hands,” Esvar said firmly. “Not unless you want Gert to beat the tar out of your hide.”

“That’s good to know. Thanks.”

Esvar gave a companionable nod and pointed toward the far barracks as they exited the stone tower. “Thatwise is where we’re headed.”

The yard had emptied during Murtagh’s interview with Captain Wren, and the shadows had shrunk beneath the midday sun. Someone had removed the cart with Muckmaw’s head.

Murtagh glanced at the deep blue sky. It had been only a few hours, but he already missed Thorn. They were too far apart to easily exchange thoughts, and he didn’t want to risk shouting with his mind when there were those within Gil’ead who might notice. I hope he’s safe. He could barely feel his connection with Thorn—just enough to know that Thorn was alive and not in pain.

Esvar gestured at the yard and the high fortress wall that backed the compound. “This all is ours. Captain Irven has command of the other half of the guard, at the grounds ’cross the fortress, but this here is Captain Wren’s fiefdom.”

“Do the captains get along?” Murtagh asked.

“Not hardly. But that’s all right. Lord Relgin favors our captain, so you chose the right company, Task.”

“I’m just glad to be one of you.”

Esvar laughed. “Say now, you killed Muckmaw! No one in their right mind would turn you away.”