Rulers of the Darkness

"False King Raniero," Garivald agreed dutifully. "Some of them follow him for the sake of a full belly or a place to sleep at night. But some of them…" He paused, wondering how to say what needed saying without putting his own head in the noose. "Some of them, you know, really mean it."

Tantris nodded. "Those are the ones who really need killing. We can't let people think they can side with the redheads and against our kingdom and get away with it. This isn't a game we're playing here. They'd get rid of every one of us if they could, and we have to treat them the same way."

Garivald nodded. Every word of that was true, however much he wished it weren't. "What have you got in mind?" he asked. "If it's something we can do, we'll do it." He couldn't resist a last jab: "If it's more of Sadoc's magic, maybe you'd better think again."

Tantris winced. The lightning Sadoc had called down could have seared him instead of Gandiluz. It could have seared Garivald, too. Garivald knew what had saved him, though: Sadoc had aimed the lightning his way. And Sadoc had proved he couldn't hit what he was aiming at.

"No more magic," Tantris said with another shudder. "What I have in mind is hitting one of the villages around the woods that the Grelzers garrison. If we kill a few Algarvians in the fighting, all the better."

"All right," Garivald said. "As long as you don't want to make us stand and fight if they turn out to be stronger than we expect going in." King Swemmel was liable to reckon it efficient to get rid of men bold enough to be irregulars at the same time as he was fighting the Grelzers.

If that had occurred to Tantris, he didn't show it. He said, "Whatever you think best, as long as we strike the blow."

Garivald scratched his chin. Whiskers rasped under his fingers; he still shaved every now and then, but only every now and then, and he had the fair- or rather, the dark- beginnings of a beard. After some thought, he said, "Lohr. That'll be the place we'll have the easiest time hitting. It's not very far from the woods, and the garrison there isn't very big. Aye, Lohr."

"Suits me well enough," Tantris said.

"I was blooded in this band between Lohr and Pirmasens," Garivald said. "We ambushed a squad of Algarvian footsoldiers marching from one to the other. I don't think there are any redheads down there these days- they've mostly gone west, and they leave it to the traitors to hold down the countryside."

"Our job is to show 'em that won't work," Tantris said.

Two nights later, the irregulars left the shelter of the woods and marched on Lohr. Actually, it was more of a straggle than a march. They ambled along in a column, tramping down the dirt road toward the village. Garivald posted a couple of men who'd grown up by Lohr in the vanguard, and another at the rear. They were the best local guides in the darkness- and if something went wrong.

Somewhere between the van and the rear, he would find himself walking beside Obilot. She said, "Fighting Grelzers isn't the same as fighting Algarvians. It's like drinking spirits cut with too much water."

"We hurt the Algarvians when we hit the Grelzers, too," Garivald said.

"I know," she answered. "It's still not the same. I don't want to hurt Algarvians by hurting Grelzer traitors. I want to hurt Algarvians by hurting Algarvians." She kicked at the ground as if it were one of Mezentio's soldiers.

Not for the first time, Garivald wanted to ask what the redheads had done to her. Not for the first time, he found he lacked the nerve. He kept marching.

When they started to near Lohr, Tantris came over to him and said, "We ought to get off the road now, and go by way of the fields. If the traitors have sentries, they'll be less likely to spot us so."

He still wasn't giving orders. He'd lost some of his arrogance, sure enough. And his advice made sense. Garivald nodded and said, "Aye, we'll do it." He gave the orders.

No sentries challenged them. Garivald's confidence began to rise. No one had betrayed the attack to the men who followed King Raniero. He and his irregulars often knew what the Grelzers would do as soon as Raniero's men did, but that coin had two sides. Who in my band is a traitor? was a question that always ate at him.

Dawn had just begun to turn the eastern sky gray when they came up to Lohr. A man from the vanguard pointed out three or four houses. "Those are the ones the Grelzers use," he whispered to Garivald. He spoke with great confidence. Garivald assumed someone in the village had told him. Sure enough, this business of civil war was as much a matter of listening and hearing as it was of fighting.

"Forward!" Garivald called softly, and the irregulars loped into the sleeping village. Dogs began to bark. A little white one ran yapping at Garivald and made as if to bite his ankle. He blazed it. It let out a low wail of pain, then fell silent. He kicked its body aside and ran on.