The town of Keggle Bend was shockingly overcrowded. The population from dozens of outlying towns, farms, and villages had all come into the city-the only high ground in the entire region. They thronged the streets, made shantytowns in the alleyways, and huddled outside the city walls. Every government building had given up its lower floors to refugees, and every house and shop was filled with poor families.
Shouldering his way gently through the mob, the Justicar nodded. The city had made a superb effort to do justice to its citizens. The homeless were being sheltered, the poor fed. City officials led soldiers through the throng, trying to make order out of the chaos and clean away the filth that might lead to disease.
The Justicar approved. A good effort was being made. Feeling solid and calm, the man moved carefully through the crowds, opening the way for Henry who followed in his wake. The street ahead was hopelessly jammed. Jus stepped onto the stairs that led to the ramparts of the city wall. He grabbed Henry by the arm and effortlessly hauled the young man up onto the steps beside him. They stood a moment like castaways on an island watching the flotsam swirl about them, and then climbed steadily up the steps onto the battlements above.
Jus kept his hand on Henry's shoulder, steadying him. Henry had tied his untidy blond hair back from his face, and threaded cords through his mail to keep it silent. He was learning well. Jus nodded and led the boy up and away from the streets, looking out across the shale rooves of Keggle Bend.
"Crowds. Minimal danger from missiles. Maximum danger from daggers. But to do that, they have to get close. If the crowd is thick enough, they'll have trouble getting enough force to penetrate your armor." Jus's sharp, suspicious eyes flicked to check the streets and rooftops as he talked. "Deep in a packed mob, your sword blade is an impediment. The pommel is better than the blade. Draw from the scabbard and punch the hilt at an enemy's guts-hard! You can break his nose with your knee as he folds. A man with a broken nose is a man out of the fight for thirty seconds."
Henry hung on every word, his face serious. The Justicar remembered a younger self, and so he drilled information into the boy carefully and faithfully.
"Cities aren't frightening. The shapes here are angular; the shapes of enemies usually aren't. Check windows. Check roofs. Do it as you walk. Areas where light changes sharply are easy to hide in-both for you and an enemy. Always keep note of a place near you where you can defend. Always look for the nearest cover. Look for a place where you can drop out of sight, move fast, and attack from an unexpected angle."
These were the lessons that made the Justicar a lethal force. Attack with surprise; attack with absolute destructive force. Move swiftly; move decisively. Henry was a good pupil, but the boy still let violence shock him. He had not yet found the path that would let him ride it like a god.
They had reached the top ten feet of stairs. Cinders sniffed and slowly bristled up his fur. Instantly stopping to listen, the Justicar crouched with one hand on his sword.
"What is it?"
Crash-a-boom. It was getting dark, and it was hours still till sunset. Cinders jittered his tail, flattening his ears and sounding unhappy. Bad crash-a-boom.
Henry had his crossbow in his arms, watching his mentor's back. "Sir, what did he say? Crash-a-boom?"
"It's all right." Jus straightened, giving a shake of his head. "He hears a thunder storm."
"Oh." Henry looked at the agitated hell hound, which had begun leaking sulfurous steam. "Cinders is scared of storms?"
Cinders brave! Big dog! Burn!
The Justicar's scarred, stubbled face creased in a rare little smile. "When there's an S-T-O-R-M, he likes to H-I-D-E."
Cinders like storm. Cinders proudly lifted up his ears. Storm be fun! Big boom! Tree catch fire-burn, burn! The hell hound sniffed. Rainstorm bad. Wet, wet. No fire. Makes man smell like old wet sock.
Looking up past his helmet brim, Jus gave a thoughtful frown. "When did you learn to spell?"
Funny faerie teach! Cinders's grin gleamed. He was immensely pleased with himself. Cinders know S-T-O-R-M storm, W-A-L-K walk, and B-A-T-H bath!
"Remind me to thank her." Bath day for Cinders was always an experience to be endured. Escalla had just made the process a smidgen more difficult than necessary. "Why did she teach you spelling?"
Let faerie sleep naked on fur! Warm!
"Wonderful."
At the top of the city's curtain wall, guards armed with bows watched and waited. One man raised a hand in cautious welcome, wary of the Justicar's grim, forbidding presence. The big man looked as if he could easily clear the entire wall with his sword.
"Halt!" the guardsman shouted. "Garrison only. There's no housing up here."
"We're not staying." The Justicar nodded his chin toward the south. "We've come from the north. I'm looking for your captain of Rangers to ask about the road south."
Shrugging, the nearest soldier waved his bow at the city. The streets were packed like a cattle yard.
"He's somewhere down in that. You can wait here on the steps if you like. He'll be back soon."
"Fine."
They sat at the top of the steps, making themselves comfortable. The Justicar unshipped his camp flask, poured a beer for himself, one for Henry, then poured a drink for the nearest guard. The man hesitated, then took the drink. It was the last of the Faerie Court's best ale, imported from the outer planes and heavy as drop-forged steel. The guard took one hesitant sip, then another, then rested his backside on the battlements with his back to the big wide world.
He finished the drink, looking relaxed and relieved. Watching him, Jus sat with Cinders in his lap, brushing the hell hound's black fur to a shine. Jus took back the cup and snapped it into place on his canteen.
"Rough?"
The soldier looked at the city's ludicrous crowds and gave a dismal sigh.
"Noisy. Crowded. But the granary's full." The guard jerked his chin at the river. "Floods won't last. Happened like this ten years ago. Soon goes away."
You should do something about it. Benelux's voice echoed inside the Justicar's skull. A true ruler should cure this at the source, not simply manage the symptoms. You should build retaining walls or drainage canals!
"The wars might have disrupted public building projects." The Justicar glowered at the sword. "Always uncover facts before you make accusations."
He put the finishing touches on Cinders's coat with a wet cloth, making the hell hound gleam. The guard watched the hell hound's face assume a goofy look. The living pelt hammered his tail upon the ground.
"That thing real?"
"Yep." Jus cleaned the grooming brush and tossed the resulting ball of fur over the wall. "He's called Cinders."
The hell hound's huge teeth gleamed. Hi!
With a jerk of his thumb, Jus introduced himself. "Justicar. Henry. The sword's Benelux. We're heading to a village southward: Hommlet."
"Hommlet! And you came from the north?"
"Yep."
"Any trouble?"
"No. No trouble."
The Justicar was uncompromising and calm. His competence spoke for itself. The town guardsman stroked his chin and looked toward the northern hills-a barrier that seemed the end of the known world.
Jus drew Cinders back in place across his shoulders.
"Can we help?"
"Hommlet…" The guard tugged at wisps of his beard. "Would it have room for a few refugees?"
"I don't know. As much as you have here, I'd think. We could take a hundred people off your hands if you give us something to feed them with."
The guard shot upright and tugged his surcoat straight. "Wait here! I'll fetch the captain."
The man bustled off. Pouring Henry a second beer, the Justicar seemed perfectly at ease.
"Second lesson. An obstacle is a rock. If you can't break it, flow around it." The Justicar's black armor creaked softly as he relaxed. "Logic and instinct. They're your sharpest tools. In life, there are no mysteries that cannot be solved. No problems that cannot be fixed."
Henry frowned. "None at all?"
"None." Jus thought of Escalla and gave a heavy sigh. "Some just need a little more work than others."
Darkness built above the city. Far off in the distance, there was the rumbling of a sudden summer storm.