Read Online Ilbei Spadebreaker and the Harpy's Wild by John Daulton - Free Book Online
Authors: John Daulton
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are, sar, but fer the sake of showin more force than ya need, perhaps consider takin the corporal at least. If’n ya got some beef with him, then take one of my regulars, Meggins or that big feller Kaige.”
“Spadebreaker, that’s enough. If I need more of your opinion, I’ll whistle for it. We’ve had this conversation before. So get your people going. You’ve got a long march through rough territory, and I want you back within an hour after sunset.”
“Yes, sar.”
“And your man, Meggins. He’s got a touch of the weasel in him. I can see it in his eyes. Does he, by any chance, possess any spirit for sport?”
“Aye, sar. Meggins can hold his own at cards, so long as he goes easy on the wine. Learned that fact just two nights back.”
“Good. Inform him that he is also invited to our game.”
Ilbei’s lips squirmed like hostages caught in the trap of his tatty gray mustache. He knew he ought to stay still, but what he had to say needed an escape, so he set the words free. “Sar, it ain’t right to take their pay at cards. The men, I mean. Fine enough if’n I play with ya, but the boys, well, they ain’t got their minds trained up the way high folks such as yerself do. And even them what Mercy gave the gift of natural wit is inclined to mistakes when come to sittin across from a nobleman. It’s bad fer morale, sar.”
“You act as if they are incapable of beating me. And besides, I’m more than fair about that sort of thing. You were there last night.”
“Aye, sar. I seen ya there. But, if’n I may inquire, so which of them fellers took that gold crown home with him?”
“I did.” He said it simply and matter of fact, as if it were obvious and quite out of keeping with the point he’d been trying to make. Ilbei, of course, noticed and commented in kind.
“Right, sar. That’s the nugget I’m tryin to dig out, sar.”
The major turned away and began combing his hair, using a silver comb produced from a pocket inside his coat. “Bring Meggers to the game, Spadebreaker. And don’t be late.”
“It’s Meggins , sar.”
“Meggins, then. Off with you now. I need to prepare for my trip up the hill.”
Ilbei started to say something but realized he didn’t know exactly what he wanted to say or how he wanted to say it, so he shut his mouth again. He glanced down at Decia and prevented himself from shaking his head. It wasn’t right for a major to bed down with enlisted folk, much less game with them at cards, taking the pittance they earned for the hardships they endured. He didn’t expect the major brought the lass in here with an eye for making her the lady of the manor one day—and quite despite whatever enthusiasm she might have had for the roll. Ilbei realized he was lingering, so he left.
Not long after, he was leading his men through the narrow trails, up and down hills that were steep and arduous. While the journey was only a matter of eight measures, and technically downhill, it was rough going all the way. By the time they were within a measure of Camp Chaparral, they knew precisely how the camp had gotten its name, and Ilbei’s voice was hoarse for the steady stream of profanity that had poured from his mouth like summer snowmelt. Some of the oaths he swore were so colorful they set Kaige and Meggins into fits of laughter, which in turn brought forth more profanity.
Adding to the wear and tear of the journey, Ilbei found that by the last measure of it, his shoulder had grown sore. It was worn from swinging a shortsword into the dense, woody brush, hacking out space through the endless scrub that clogged the winding deer trail the miners ironically called a road. Ilbei could certainly understand why the locals got so little news from the other camps if this was how traveling had to go, squeezing through, under and between manzanita limbs as thick as Ilbei’s wrists while dodging poison oak tangles and barbed berry brambles at every turn. The only redeeming features of
“Spadebreaker, that’s enough. If I need more of your opinion, I’ll whistle for it. We’ve had this conversation before. So get your people going. You’ve got a long march through rough territory, and I want you back within an hour after sunset.”
“Yes, sar.”
“And your man, Meggins. He’s got a touch of the weasel in him. I can see it in his eyes. Does he, by any chance, possess any spirit for sport?”
“Aye, sar. Meggins can hold his own at cards, so long as he goes easy on the wine. Learned that fact just two nights back.”
“Good. Inform him that he is also invited to our game.”
Ilbei’s lips squirmed like hostages caught in the trap of his tatty gray mustache. He knew he ought to stay still, but what he had to say needed an escape, so he set the words free. “Sar, it ain’t right to take their pay at cards. The men, I mean. Fine enough if’n I play with ya, but the boys, well, they ain’t got their minds trained up the way high folks such as yerself do. And even them what Mercy gave the gift of natural wit is inclined to mistakes when come to sittin across from a nobleman. It’s bad fer morale, sar.”
“You act as if they are incapable of beating me. And besides, I’m more than fair about that sort of thing. You were there last night.”
“Aye, sar. I seen ya there. But, if’n I may inquire, so which of them fellers took that gold crown home with him?”
“I did.” He said it simply and matter of fact, as if it were obvious and quite out of keeping with the point he’d been trying to make. Ilbei, of course, noticed and commented in kind.
“Right, sar. That’s the nugget I’m tryin to dig out, sar.”
The major turned away and began combing his hair, using a silver comb produced from a pocket inside his coat. “Bring Meggers to the game, Spadebreaker. And don’t be late.”
“It’s Meggins , sar.”
“Meggins, then. Off with you now. I need to prepare for my trip up the hill.”
Ilbei started to say something but realized he didn’t know exactly what he wanted to say or how he wanted to say it, so he shut his mouth again. He glanced down at Decia and prevented himself from shaking his head. It wasn’t right for a major to bed down with enlisted folk, much less game with them at cards, taking the pittance they earned for the hardships they endured. He didn’t expect the major brought the lass in here with an eye for making her the lady of the manor one day—and quite despite whatever enthusiasm she might have had for the roll. Ilbei realized he was lingering, so he left.
Not long after, he was leading his men through the narrow trails, up and down hills that were steep and arduous. While the journey was only a matter of eight measures, and technically downhill, it was rough going all the way. By the time they were within a measure of Camp Chaparral, they knew precisely how the camp had gotten its name, and Ilbei’s voice was hoarse for the steady stream of profanity that had poured from his mouth like summer snowmelt. Some of the oaths he swore were so colorful they set Kaige and Meggins into fits of laughter, which in turn brought forth more profanity.
Adding to the wear and tear of the journey, Ilbei found that by the last measure of it, his shoulder had grown sore. It was worn from swinging a shortsword into the dense, woody brush, hacking out space through the endless scrub that clogged the winding deer trail the miners ironically called a road. Ilbei could certainly understand why the locals got so little news from the other camps if this was how traveling had to go, squeezing through, under and between manzanita limbs as thick as Ilbei’s wrists while dodging poison oak tangles and barbed berry brambles at every turn. The only redeeming features of
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