with him if you’ve got a
problem.”
“Get lost,” said the first man again. “Last
time I’m asking nicely.”
Sahara held up her hands and backed away.
“I’m not here to cause trouble,” she said.
She left the range and headed down the
stairs. As she reached the turn, voices floated up the staircase,
and she slowed her pace to listen before she realized that she
probably should mind her own business.
“You’ve had no word from our suppliers?”
asked a man’s voice.
“Why do you keep asking me that?”
It was Arnauld. Sahara crept down a few more
stairs and edged toward the bannister. She could just glimpse
Arnauld, standing a flight below her, with a tall, heavyset man she
didn’t recognize.
“My men are running low on ammo. I’ve capped
them at fifteen rounds for practice. We can’t afford more than
that…and even that’s probably too much. We need supplies, Arnauld.
We can’t fight off the Dragon-Lords with swords…not when they have
long-range weapons.”
“They have a damn dragon, Armon,” Arnauld
snapped. “What the hell kind of weapon do you think we can use
against that anyway? I don’t have any supplies, and we have no
suppliers. We haven’t for years. And yet, every month, here you
are. Asking me the same questions, over and over again.”
Sahara heard Arnauld’s boots echo on the
stone steps, and then they stopped.
“You better just get it through your head,
Armon,” he said. “No help is coming. We’re on our own.”
A moment later, Armon stomped up the stairs
and pushed past her, muttering something under his breath. Sahara
watched him go, weighing whether she should run after him and tell
him that his soldiers were wasting what ammo he did have. She
hesitated, then decided that he wasn’t in the mood to hear it.
I’ll tell Jared instead , she thought. He knows these people and the politics here. He’ll know what to
do.
Three days later, she had her chance. She
stopped by the firing range again and watched Jared and a troop of
ten other men fire their fifteen rounds of ammunition at the
targets, then wrap and carefully pack away the weapons. While
Jared’s shots were clean, only two of the others could boast any
kind of accuracy.
“Why aren’t those out in the guard rooms?”
she asked as they headed down the stairs for the evening meal.
“They don’t do anyone any good locked in safes like that. And why
doesn’t anyone teach these men how to shoot with accuracy?”
“We train with them so we can stay sharp,” he
said. “But they aren’t for routine use.” He glanced at her. “What
do you mean, accuracy?”
“You didn’t notice that most of the men don’t
even hit their targets?”
Jared frowned. “No…I was focused on my own
target.”
“These men are just wasting ammunition,
Jared. If you’re going to practice, then they should be practicing
how to actually kill something if they needed to.”
“I’m not in charge of the training, Sahara.
That’s not my call.”
Sahara stopped and caught his arm. “Jared.
You have to say something to someone. I would do it, but…well,
people don’t like me.”
“Not yet.”
“Whatever. They don’t trust me, and they
won’t listen to me. But they’ll listen to you. You have to say
something.”
“I’ll bring it up with Armon next time I see
him at the council meeting.” Jared started down the steps again.
“And listen, maybe you shouldn’t spend so much time hanging around
the range. Some of the men are complaining.”
Sahara snorted. “Why? Because I told them
they couldn’t shoot?”
Jared grinned at her. “That probably didn’t
help. But I’ve arranged for you to help the Lady Aliya in the Halls
of Healing. It’ll give you a nice change of pace.”
Sahara jogged down the steps to catch up with
him “I’m not a healer, Jared,” she said. “I’m a warrior. Let me
help you!”
“They won’t accept your help,” Jared said.
“I’m sorry, Sahara. It’s just not the
problem.”
“Get lost,” said the first man again. “Last
time I’m asking nicely.”
Sahara held up her hands and backed away.
“I’m not here to cause trouble,” she said.
She left the range and headed down the
stairs. As she reached the turn, voices floated up the staircase,
and she slowed her pace to listen before she realized that she
probably should mind her own business.
“You’ve had no word from our suppliers?”
asked a man’s voice.
“Why do you keep asking me that?”
It was Arnauld. Sahara crept down a few more
stairs and edged toward the bannister. She could just glimpse
Arnauld, standing a flight below her, with a tall, heavyset man she
didn’t recognize.
“My men are running low on ammo. I’ve capped
them at fifteen rounds for practice. We can’t afford more than
that…and even that’s probably too much. We need supplies, Arnauld.
We can’t fight off the Dragon-Lords with swords…not when they have
long-range weapons.”
“They have a damn dragon, Armon,” Arnauld
snapped. “What the hell kind of weapon do you think we can use
against that anyway? I don’t have any supplies, and we have no
suppliers. We haven’t for years. And yet, every month, here you
are. Asking me the same questions, over and over again.”
Sahara heard Arnauld’s boots echo on the
stone steps, and then they stopped.
“You better just get it through your head,
Armon,” he said. “No help is coming. We’re on our own.”
A moment later, Armon stomped up the stairs
and pushed past her, muttering something under his breath. Sahara
watched him go, weighing whether she should run after him and tell
him that his soldiers were wasting what ammo he did have. She
hesitated, then decided that he wasn’t in the mood to hear it.
I’ll tell Jared instead , she thought. He knows these people and the politics here. He’ll know what to
do.
Three days later, she had her chance. She
stopped by the firing range again and watched Jared and a troop of
ten other men fire their fifteen rounds of ammunition at the
targets, then wrap and carefully pack away the weapons. While
Jared’s shots were clean, only two of the others could boast any
kind of accuracy.
“Why aren’t those out in the guard rooms?”
she asked as they headed down the stairs for the evening meal.
“They don’t do anyone any good locked in safes like that. And why
doesn’t anyone teach these men how to shoot with accuracy?”
“We train with them so we can stay sharp,” he
said. “But they aren’t for routine use.” He glanced at her. “What
do you mean, accuracy?”
“You didn’t notice that most of the men don’t
even hit their targets?”
Jared frowned. “No…I was focused on my own
target.”
“These men are just wasting ammunition,
Jared. If you’re going to practice, then they should be practicing
how to actually kill something if they needed to.”
“I’m not in charge of the training, Sahara.
That’s not my call.”
Sahara stopped and caught his arm. “Jared.
You have to say something to someone. I would do it, but…well,
people don’t like me.”
“Not yet.”
“Whatever. They don’t trust me, and they
won’t listen to me. But they’ll listen to you. You have to say
something.”
“I’ll bring it up with Armon next time I see
him at the council meeting.” Jared started down the steps again.
“And listen, maybe you shouldn’t spend so much time hanging around
the range. Some of the men are complaining.”
Sahara snorted. “Why? Because I told them
they couldn’t shoot?”
Jared grinned at her. “That probably didn’t
help. But I’ve arranged for you to help the Lady Aliya in the Halls
of Healing. It’ll give you a nice change of pace.”
Sahara jogged down the steps to catch up with
him “I’m not a healer, Jared,” she said. “I’m a warrior. Let me
help you!”
“They won’t accept your help,” Jared said.
“I’m sorry, Sahara. It’s just not the
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