Paks had no idea what such contracts were usually like, but it seemed reasonable. If many caravans had been robbed, surely the plunder would make a fair return. “Yes,” she said. “That will do. But do you have any idea where they might be?”
The mayor leaned forward. “An idea, yes, but we aren’t sure. Caravans have been attacked on all the roads around. But Eris—” he nodded to the farm woman, who nodded to Paks, “—Eris tells us that farms have been robbed, too—and one or two wiped out—west of here. None close in, but those farther out have lost livestock. There are several ruins out that way which might be useful to brigands, though Sir Felis found no one there—”
“That’s not to say they might not use them,” Sir Felis broke in. “We’ve had no time for more than a fast sweep—they could have been hiding nearby, if they were clever.”
“We think,” the mayor went on, “that they must have some spy in town. More caravans are robbed on their way out—especially those that have come on a market day, and sold things in our market. I won’t conceal the fact that these men—if it’s humans—are dangerous. Typically they kill all the caravaners, merchants and guards alike. That’s ten to twenty guards, maybe five merchants or so, and the drivers. They’ve killed two farm families we know of—I suppose they surprised them robbing—”
“But,” Sir Felis interrupted again, “it may be that some farmer out there is in league with them.” Eris Arvidsdotter shook her head angrily, but Paks remembered the setup at “uncle’s” in Aarenis. It would make sense. “Northwest of here,” Sir Felis continued, “was Baron Anseg’s land, but he died without a close heir years ago, and the title of that land is still being argued in Vérella. Once you’re away from the river, and well into the woods beyond Brewersbridge, there’s no lord for two days’ travel, until Baron Velis’s outside Bingham.”
“The merchants’ guilds,” put in the mayor, “naturally have an interest in the safety of the roads. We have no Guild League, as in Aarenis, with real authority, but the guilds will support any effort to keep the roads safe where no lord has the responsibility.”
“I see,” said Paks. She was becoming confused again, and clung to what she did understand. “So you want me to hunt around and find where the brigands are hiding, and lead a small force to drive them out? Do you want them driven away, or killed, or captured, or what?”
“Killed or captured, definitely,” said Marshal Cedfer. “Drive them out, and they’ll return as soon as you’re gone.”
“I say kill them,” put in the mason. “What good are brigands anyway?”
Paks wondered if he’d ever killed anyone. Himself.
“And if you find out who is—I mean, who may be giving information here in Brewersbridge—” added the mayor.
Paks grinned. “You expect a stranger to find out what’s going on when you, who know everyone, can’t? I might be able to find the brigands, sir, and I know I can fight, but I’ve no experience in finding out secrets like that.”
“Well, but if you should happen to learn—”
“I would tell—Marshal Cedfer, you wished me to report to? Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s right. Or me. But Marshal Cedfer is best.”
Paks looked around the table. Everyone was watching her. The mage gave her a bright smile, as if to encourage her. The Marshal and Sir Felis looked impatient, as if she were a slightly stupid recruit. Master Oakhallow’s level gaze held a challenge. She felt, suddenly, very tired. To fight brigands was well enough, and she’d be glad of an honest, above-ground battle again, but she had the feeling that they all expected something else. Something more.
“Yes,” she said finally. “I’ll do that—or try to. I suppose the first thing is to look for the places they might be. Do you have a map, perhaps, of the local—”
But at that they all began to talk.
“How good of you—”
“No need for that tonight, now that you’ve—”
“Perhaps tomorrow you can meet with Marshal Cedfer—”
“—out to the keep, and I’ll introduce you to my sergeants—”
The mayor banged his gavel once, and everyone quieted. “One last thing. The town, as I said, will supply the militia, their food and weapons. But do you have what you need for yourself? I see you have armor—” He waited for her answer. Paks thought about her gear. To move about the countryside, as far as he had mentioned—a day’s ride away?—she would need a horse of some kind.
“I could use a horse or mule,” she said. “My pony’s not the right animal for prowling around.”
Sir Felis frowned. “I haven’t any spares, right now. We’ve thrush in the stable, and horses lame.”
The mayor shook his head. “It’s so late in the season. The horses in town now are work horses—and in use every day. Marshal Cedfer?”
“No. Sorry. My own mount, and Ambros’s, that’s all I’ve got. If you wanted to buy one, perhaps Sir Felis could send to the count’s stable—”
“There’s one spare horse,” said Hebbinford. “In my stable—that black horse.”
Paks felt a surge of excitement. She had not thought of the black, but that was the sort of horse she had dreamed of in the past. A true warrior’s horse. She looked at the mayor, and Hebbinford, and back again. “What about that one, then? No one else is using it.”
“I suppose that’s all right,” said the mayor slowly. “I can see you need a horse, to go looking all over the country. If the rest of you agree—”
“What of the man’s heirs?” asked Master Feddith. “He looked a friendless man, but if he had heirs, they’d have some right to the beast.”
“What of the fines he’d have owed, for trying to rob our Master Smith, if he’d lived?” asked Senneth sharply. “I say the Council can claim his horse for damages, and sell it to Paksenarrion if we choose.”
“Perhaps, sirs,” said Paks, uncertain if she should speak. “I could but have the use of the horse at first—paying Master Hebbinford for his keep, of course. It may be that I have not the skill to master such an animal—” She paused as the smith snorted loudly, and all eyes went to him. “Even if I do, I will not need it after this, I think.”
“That’s well spoke,” said the smith abruptly. “ ‘Twould do that beast good to be worked, that it would, and the trying of him out would be a reason for her to ride about the countryside. But as for skill—” He looked hard at Paks. “You’ve either skill of a horse-breaker, girl, or magic in your fingers, and that’s a fact.” Paks saw both the Kuakgan and the Marshal give her hands a quick glance. She was glad they were clasped to cover the ring.
“Well, then,” said the mayor, “how think you? I see no harm in that, and it saves Master Hebbinford risking his own neck to keep the beast exercised, for I doubt you’d let Sevri try it, would you Jos?”
“Never,” said Hebbinford, with a ghost of a grin. “Nor is my lass that crazy. I’m for it.”
“And I,” said the other Council members.
“And I hope you’ll decide to buy that horse,” said Senneth, as they rose. “If you go, and leave it here, the Council will be left with the care of it all winter until the spring fairs. We’ll give you a good price, I swear.”
“We can do better than that, Senneth,” said the mayor, clapping him on the shoulder. “Should she succeed in routing all the brigands, we might call it a reward. Then she could not refuse, and we need not worry about the feed.”
The others laughed, and gathered around Paks for a few words each before leaving. When she had retrieved her sword from the guard at the door, she found Hebbinford and the Kuakgan waiting to walk with her. The night had turned even colder, and she looked forward to the new cloak the tailor would make.