Meran had continued to perform his duties as though nothing had changed, though he was now a Freedman. My client, I reminded myself, and a rod for my back which I had made for myself. Technically every other client I gained would be subservient to him. It was not in any way enforced, didn't really mean anything, but these ancient traditions are remembered. It meant no noble of the city in my clientele. Ever.
He still slept on the floor at the entrance to my tent and I stepped over him, suddenly wondering who was keeping an eye on my cash if he were here at nights. I almost kicked him awake to find out but decided that I had better trust him and it could wait till morning in any case. Then I remembered that I had ordered Kerral to guard it. It seemed a long time ago and these things can slip your mind. He would have taken care of it. One of my men would be guarding the wagon at night. Good. One less thing to fret about.
A lamp had been left alight on my table and I crossed to it, too tense to sleep. Sitting at the table I picked up a book and opened it where I had left off some months ago. The gift of the loupe had made me go back to An Examination of Magical Principles, Unattributed. There weren't that many copies in existence. Sorcerers suppress such publications, preferring to keep a monopoly on the teaching of the subject. A spell sells for one hundred to ten thousand coins. They wanted the income and any dissemination of information was to be discouraged so that they could keep it. There was, of course, nothing to stop me or anyone with a stone from experimenting but experimentation is dangerous because the patterns and shapes of magic are non-intuitive. Try a new pattern and anything could happen. I remembered the comments Dubaku had made about the nature of spirits, and my offhand comment that there might be a connection between the way spirits do magic and what we do. The mages had laughed but Dubaku had not. It was something I worried at. Was it possible there was a connection? The spirits see the world differently than we do. Dubaku had said that. If a spirit looked at the patterns of a spell would he understand them as we do not? Would he see a direct and intuitive connection between the pattern and the effect? It was heady stuff, if I could get a spirit to sit by and watch me work the spells I knew and then learn from what he said, I might be able to start making predictions about new patterns before I tried them. What an amazing research tool that would be! What an advantage!
“Go to sleep.”
I didn't jump. I mean, he was in the room and I knew he was there. Why would I be surprised that he spoke?
“I can't.”
“Awake before dawn, not sleeping. Bad.”
“How much money is left? I don't remember.”
“Seven thousand and forty. I used some.”
Enough to raise another cohort, but not more. Money to raise troops, scrip to supply them, and the enemy to provide food? I couldn't do handy math on this one, too many variables, but in theory I could raise seven thousand men at a silver a man to start, and keep them if I could get them into position to hit hard and make off with coin and food. I doubted that would happen. Seven thousand would be too many to be useful at the moment in any case. Better if he raise another three cohorts, giving me four in total. He might even be able to make a dent in that number in eight days. Word that he was recruiting would have spread to the lands he would be moving through. People would come to him. If he raised three more cohorts or less I would still have cash to feed them for a while.
I pulled some paper and a pen toward me and began to write.
“Sealing wax.”
He was up and at my side in moments with what I needed.
“What's happening?”
I realized that he would have no clue and decided to tell him. He was my client. I could trust him. I had to try to, anyway. “Sheo has raised a cohort and is moving it into danger. I'm sending him a letter telling him to stay put…” I over-rode the lie. “To move slowly, and raise more men. Three more cohorts.”
“What's happening?”
For a second I thought he was being funny, comically asking for a simpler explanation. Then I dismissed the idea. No way he was dumb. He was asking for more information. “Things are hotting up. Sorry, I can't say more.”
I had been writing as I spoke. Now I heated the wax, dripping some over the end of the tube and pressing my signet ring to it. The ring had belonged last to my brother. It had come to me when he had died, before my father had decided I was useless to the family. Doubtless he would rather it had gone to a cousin. But maybe he was changing his mind. I wondered how many letters Sapphire had, and what they said. Were there harsh letters to be given to me if I did poorly? Was Sapphire's knife for me if it looked like I would disgrace my father?
I realized I was sitting there looking at the letter, doing nothing. Meran had moved away from the table, but not far. I stood and stepped outside and crossed to Kerral's tent. A few moments later Kerral had the letter and instructions to get it, the money and two of the men on horses. “Tell them to start ten miles south of Yuprit and head north-east. I don't know what passwords Sheo will use…”
“I do.”
I was stopped in my tracks for a second. I hadn't thought of it. Like several details large and small that hadn't come to mind at the right time. Sometimes I thought I was so clever, and sometimes I thought I was rubbish, every bit the useless pointless waster my father thought me. But I had men like Kerral around me who did think of the things I didn't. And I was glad.
“It's a lucky commander who has good men.”
“It's lucky men who have a good commander.”
Well. There really didn't seem anything else to say, so I bid him good night and went to bed.