Out of the Darkness

Get out of my hair, old man. That was what he meant, even if he was too polite to say so. “No, nothing else, Lieutenant,” Ilmarinen answered. Except for your sergeant, you haven’t got anything very interesting. “I thank you for your time, and for your translating.”

As Ilmarinen returned and started back toward the ferry, another officer came by. This one, Ilmarinen saw, wore a chest badge along with the rank badges on his collar tabs. Ilmarinen figured out what the badge meant as soon as the fellow looked at him. He felt himself recognized for what he was, just as he’d recognized Fariulf for something out of the ordinary. The newcomer spoke rapidly in Unkerlanter. Andelot exclaimed in surprise, then returned to Algarvian: “This mage say--says--you too are mage. Is so?”

He couldn’t even lie. The other wizard would know he was doing it. “Aye, I’m a mage,” he replied. “So what?”

More back-and-forth in Unkerlanter. After a bit, Andelot said, “This other mage says you are no ordinary mage. He says you are strong mage, mighty mage. Is so?”

Powers below eat you, Ilmarinen thought at the Unkerlanter wizard. It wasn’t so much because the fellow was right, but because, by being right, he’d made sure Ilmarinen couldn’t casually visit this side of the river any more. Getting escorted to things he was supposed to see didn’t strike him as much fun.

“Is so?” Andelot persisted.

“Aye, it’s so,” Ilmarinen said with a sigh.

“You are spy?” the young lieutenant asked--a very Unkerlanter question.

“I’m an ally,” Ilmarinen answered. “Spies are enemies. How can I possibly be a spy?”

“How can you be spy?” Andelot echoed. “Easy.” The other mage, who didn’t speak Algarvian, had a good deal to say in Unkerlanter. Andelot didn’t sound very happy about hearing any of it. When Swemmel’s sorcerer finished, the lieutenant said, “You go back to your side of river now. You stay on your side of river now. You not welcome on this side of river now.”

“And is that how one ally treats another?” Ilmarinen demanded, doing his best to show more indignation than he felt.

“Do you show us all your secrets?” Andelot returned. Because Unkerlanters had to keep so many secrets so inspectors and impressers wouldn’t drag them away and do something dreadful to them, they were convinced everyone had secrets and guarded them and tried to spy out other people’s.

“Plenty of your officers on our bank of the Albi, too,” Ilmarinen said. And, odds are, they’re spies, or some of them are, he thought.

“That is that bank of river. This is this bank of river,” Andelot said, as if that made all the difference in the world. Maybe, to him, it did. He pointed east, toward the riverbank. “You have to go now.”

Ilmarinen went, protesting all the while. To go quietly would have been out of character for him. Andelot and the mage walked with him. He wondered what the Unkerlanters didn’t want him to see. He wondered if there really was something he shouldn’t see. Curse Swemmel’s whoresons, he thought. When you start dealing with them, you have to start thinking like them.

Lieutenant and wizard stood watching till he boarded the ferry, till it began to move, till it reached the other side of the river. What don’t they want me to see? Is anything at all there? Can I find out? He was planning ways and means when he realized he’d given himself a new challenge.

Spring in Skrunda was an enjoyable time most years: warm without being too hot, with just enough rain to keep things green and growing. Talsu enjoyed this spring even more than the past few. Not only were the Algarvian occupiers gone from Jelgava, but the news sheets shouted of the triumphs of allied armies deep inside Algarve itself. A few Jelgavan regiments were in the fight, too. By the way the news sheets trumpeted what they did, they might have been whipping King Mezentio’s men all by themselves.

Some people--people who hadn’t seen action themselves--doubtless believed the news sheets. Talsu knew better. He knew what sorts of armies the Kuusamans and Lagoans had. He had a pretty fair notion of what sort of army the Unkerlanters had. In amongst all those fighters, a few regiments of Jelgavans would have been like a fingernail: nice to have, but hardly essential to the body as a whole.

When he remarked on that to his father, Traku said, “Well, we’ve got to start somewhere, I expect.”

“I suppose so,” Talsu admitted, “but do we have to cackle so much about it?”

He made a noise that might have come from a chicken after it laid an egg.

Traku laughed and then tossed him a pair of linen trousers. “Here--these are ready to go to Mindaugu for summer wear. He’s got himself too much silver to sweat in wool.”