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in the open field. They raid us instead, always popping out of the woods to

plink a few arrows and curses at whoever they can get a beat on and then

running off into the woods. Can’t follow them without running into traps and

ambushes, and every now and then they get someone. It wears on a man, even if

our archers do make them pay for it.”

38

“But what’s bad is the real monsters. We keep running into trolls,

sometimes alone but usually with goblins. Worse things, too. An ogre,

felwolves, even a beast the captain says was a manticore. We turned back

when the scouts reported giant tracks.”

Yeah, that made more sense. I’d seen myself how tough trolls were. If

giants were even bigger they’d be bad news to a group like this.

It was twilight by then, and the sky was mostly overcast. A few flakes of

snow drifted down on us.

“The captain’ll be calling camp any time now,” the sergeant observed.

“I’d best get the men ready. But if’n you don’t mind me saying so, I figure

you’ve done enough for one day. There’s no sense in you wearing yourself out

over bumps and bruises when we might have a man take an arrow in the throat

before dawn.”

“Fair enough, sergeant. What’s your name, by the way?”

“Thomas, sir.”

A call from up ahead interrupted us, and he hurried away with another

respectful nod. I had to admit, after my years as a corporate drone I could get

used to that kind of treatment.

The caravan stopped in an open field beside the road, which had

apparently been used for that purpose many times before. The men circled the

wagons to form an improvised barricade between the camp and the

surrounding woods, and a work party began cutting wood and setting up a

bonfire while smaller groups corralled the animals and hung canvas awnings

from the inner side of the wagons. The peasants huddled together miserably, a

few of the more industrious ones claiming one or another of the little firepits

that dotted the field and casting about for wood to burn.

I was distracted from my observations by a crackling and glow of

firelight beside my wagon, and turned to find that Avilla had somehow

managed to get a fire going in the few minutes we’d been stationary. She hung a

little pot full of snow over the blaze as I watched, and smiled up at me.

“I think I’m getting the hang of starting fires, master,” she declared. “I’ll

have a nice, warm stew ready in a half hour or so.”

She said it so naturally I had to remind myself it was just a charade.

39

‘Master’ was a normal term of respect for an apprentice speaking to her

teacher, but I’d gathered that this land was pretty medieval in its attitudes about

things like civil rights. A master was supposed to support and train his

apprentices, but he was also responsible for their discipline and I doubted they

had many options if he decided to be brutal about it. An ordinary craftsman

would have to worry about the opinions of his neighbors and the local lord, but

one who traveled didn’t even have that minimal constraint. Let alone a wizard.

It was the kind of place where any attractive female who took an

apprenticeship would expect servicing her master to be part of the job, hence

the constant assumptions along those lines from everyone around us. I was

starting to wonder why the girls had been so willing to go along with a plan

that essentially involved pretending to be my personal concubines. But then

again, the fact that Captain Rain had felt the need to reassure them he wasn’t

going to let his men casually rape them was also pretty telling. Pretending they

were already taken might be the only way they could avoid having some

asshole decide to ‘claim’ them.

Ah, well. When in Rome, at least act Roman enough that you don’t stand

out too much. Low-tech societies tend to be xenophobic too, and the last thing I

wanted was to create a situation where I’d end up making enemies of the local

humans. The monsters were bad enough.

So I just nodded, trying to look like I was used to having a beautiful girl

waiting on me hand and foot. “Good. Do you need anything?”

“We’ll manage, sir.”

Cerise shot me a grin. “You know Avilla and her cooking, master. Give

her a couple of days and she’ll be baking cookies over an open fire somehow.”

Avilla swatted her arm. “Hush, you! Find me the ladle, and then peel a

few of those potatoes.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Avilla settled in to preparing our meal with the casual skill of an

experienced chef, with Cerise smoothly adopting the role of assistant. I left

them to it, and set about making a circuit of the camp to see what I could learn

about our hosts.

There were only about a hundred of the soldiers. Their weary faces and

40

ragged gear told the story of a hard-fought campaign that they knew they were

losing, but they saw to their tasks with the disciplined efficiency of veterans.

After fifty percent casualties that was pretty damned amazing, and my respect

for Captain Rain rose several notches. Not many officers could hold a unit

together under circumstances like these.

The civilians, on the other hand, were shell-shocked refugees who might

have stepped right out of a charity advertisement. They were a fair-skinned,

dark-haired people, a bit short but not as tiny as medieval peasants had been

back on Earth. The typical clothing was essentially a sack of rough cloth with

holes for arms and legs, although here and there I saw a proper dress or

something resembling pants. Shoes were a rarity, with most of the refugees,

just wrapping their feet with rags, and I wondered how many frostbite cases

I’d get before we reached our destination.

There weren’t nearly as many children in the crowd as I would have

expected, especially considering the large family sizes that were normal for

preindustrial societies. Lots of teenagers and older kids, but very few toddlers

or infants. There were also noticeably fewer adult men than women, and all of

the survivors clutched at improvised weapons. Mostly farm implements, like

scythes and hoes, but a few had hunting bows or improvised spears.

The implications were grim. These were the people who’d fought their

way free of a long string of disasters, and anyone who couldn’t keep up hadn’t

made it this far.

On the good side, there was a small herd of sheep and cattle with them

and most of the wagons seemed to be loaded with food. At least we weren’t

going to starve anytime soon, and arriving at a besieged settlement with stores

in tow was a good way to get invited inside the walls. The wagons themselves

were a bit run down, however, and my thoughts quickly turned to options for

repairing or replacing them. I couldn’t shape wood, and stone would be too

heavy to make a wagon out of, but there ought to be something I could do.

Captain Rain found me still musing on the subject some minutes later, and

pulled me aside.

“Not to be too demanding after all your good work this afternoon, but I

wanted to see if you can do anything about the security of the camp,” he said in

a low voice. “The goblins like to try to sneak in and cut men’s throats in the