‘As I understand it, they’re all related—sort of like a family.’
‘Amazing. You did listen when Sephrenia was talking to you. You Pandions all worship Aphrael, right?’
‘“Worship” might be too strong a term, your Grace.’
‘I’ve heard stories about Aphrael, Heldin,’ Bergsten smiled. ‘She has a private agenda. She’s trying to steal the whole of human-kind. Now then, I’m a member of the Genidian Order.’ He paused. ‘I was,’ he corrected himself. ‘We make our appeals to Hanks, the Cyrinics work through Romalic, and the Alciones deal with Setras. Do you imagine that in their misty heaven somewhere above the clouds these Styric Gods might now and then talk with each other?’
‘Please don’t beat me over the head, Bergsten. I overlooked something, that’s all. I’m not stupid.’
‘Never said you were, old boy.’ Bergsten smiled. ‘You just needed spiritual guidance, that’s all. That’s the purpose of our Holy Mother. Come to me with your spiritual problems, my son. I will gently guide you—and if guidance doesn’t work, I’ll take my axe and drive you.’
‘I see that your Grace adheres to the notion of the Church Muscular,’ Heldin said sourly.
‘That’s my spiritual problem, my son, not yours. Now go find an Alcione. Legend has it that Aphrael and Setras are particularly close. I think we can count on Setras to pass things along to his thieving little cousin.’
‘Your Grace!’ Heldin protested.
‘The Church has had her eye on Aphrael for centuries, Heldin. We know all about your precious little Child Goddess and her tricks. Don’t let her kiss you, my friend. If you do, she’ll pinch your soul while you’re not looking.’
There were a dozen wobbly ox-carts this time, all heavily laden with beer barrels, and Senga had recruited several dozen of Narstil’s shabby outlaws to assist him in guarding and dispensing his product. Kalten had rather smoothly insinuated Caalador and Bevier into the company.
‘I still think you’re making a mistake, Senga,’ Kalten told his good-natured employer as their rickety cart jolted along the rough jungle path toward Natayos. ‘You’ve got a complete lock on the market. Why lower your prices?’
‘Because I’ll make more money if I do.’
‘That doesn’t make sense.’
‘Look, Col,’ Senga explained patiently, ‘when I came here before, I only had one cart-load of beer. I could get any price I asked, because my beer was so scarce.’
‘I guess that makes sense.’
‘I’ve got an almost unlimited supply now, though, so I’m making my profit on volume instead of price.’
‘That’s what doesn’t make sense.’
‘Let me put it this way. Which would you rather do—steal ten crowns from one man or a penny from each of ten thousand men?’
Kalten did some quick counting on his fingers. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Now I see what you’re driving at. Very shrewd, Senga.’
Senga puffed himself up a little. ‘It never hurts to think long-range, Col. My real concern is the fact that it’s not really all that hard to make beer. If some clever fellow’s got a recipe, he could set up his own brewery right here. I don’t want to get involved in a price war just when things are starting to go well for me.’
They had left Narstil’s camp at daybreak, and so it was midmorning when they reached Natayos. They passed unchallenged through the gates, rumbled by the house with barred windows, and set up shop again in the same square as before.
As Senga’s closest associate, Kalten had been promoted to the position of Chief of Security. The reputation for unpleasantness he had established early on in Narstil’s camp ensured that none of the outlaws would question his orders, and the presence of Bevier, patch-eyed, lochaber-armed, and obviously homicidal, added to his authority.
‘We ain’t likely t’ accomplish too much here, Col,’ Caalador muttered to Kalten as the two of them stood guard near one of the busy beer-carts. ‘Ol’ Senga’s so worried ’bout some feller slippin’ by ’thout payin’ that me’n you is tied down tighter’n a couple o’ dawgs on short leashes.’
‘Wait until later, Ezek,’ Kalten advised. ‘We’ll be able to move around a little more freely after everybody gets drunk.’
Bevier slouched over to join them, his short-handled lochaber in his fist. People automatically got out of his way for some reason. ‘I just had a thought,’ he said.
‘You want to kill somebody?’ Kalten suggested.
‘Be serious, Col. Why don’t you take your friend Senga aside and suggest that he set up a permanent establishment here in Natayos? It’s the logical thing to do, and it’d give the three of us an excuse to stay here. If we cleaned out one of these ruined buildings and opened a tavern, we could stay here and run it. It makes more sense than selling beer off the tail-gate of an ox-cart.’
‘He’s got hisself a point there, Col,’ Caalador said. ‘Ol’ Shallag here, he looks like he drinks blood for breakfast, but his head’s still a-workin’ in back o’ that there eye-patch.’
Kalten thought about it. ‘It would set us up right here in Natayos, wouldn’t it? We’d be able to keep an eye on things.’ He looked around. ‘Senga’s a little worried that somebody here might start his own brewery,’ he said for the benefit of nearby soldiers. ‘If the three of us are right here, we could probably persuade anybody who does that to take up another hobby. I’ll go talk with Senga and see what he thinks of the notion.’
He found his good-natured friend sitting at a makeshift table behind one of the ox-carts. The outlaw was counting money with an almost dreamy expression on his face. ‘Oh, this is just fine, Col,’ he almost crooned.
‘They’re only pennies.’
‘I know, but there are so many of them.’
‘Shallag came up with an idea.’
‘He wants to thin out the crowd by hacking the head off every third man in line?’
‘Shallag’s not really that bad.’
‘Oh, really? Every man in camp has nightmares about him.’
‘He hasn’t killed a single man since he came to Arjuna.’
‘He’s saving up. He’s just biding his time until he can gather up a few thousand of us all together and kill all of us at once.’
‘Do you want to listen to his idea or haven’t you finished making bad jokes yet?’
‘Sorry. Go ahead.’
‘He thinks we ought to clean out one of these empty ruins and set up a permanent tavern.’
‘You mean like a real business? With a counter and tables and chairs and all that?’
‘Why not? Now that your brewer’s working full time, you’ve got access to a steady supply, and this is where your customers are. If you set up shop here, you can sell beer all day every day instead of just coming here once a week. Then your customers would come to you in manageable numbers instead of by the regiment.’
‘I never thought of it,’ Senga admitted. ‘I just thought I’d make a quick profit and then run for the border. I could set up a real tavern here, Col—a real, honest-to-God legitimate business. I wouldn’t have to steal any more.’
‘I’ve seen your price-list, Senga. Don’t worry. You’re still stealing.’
Senga ignored him. ‘Maybe I could call it “Senga’s Palace”,’ he said in a dreamy tone of voice. He frowned. ‘No,’ he decided. ‘That’s a little too flashy for a beer-tavern. I think I’ll just call it “Senga’s”. That’d definitely be a more lasting memorial than just a grave marker with the date when I got hung carved on it.’ Then he shook his head and sighed. ‘No, Col,’ he said regretfully. ‘It wouldn’t work. If I took you and my other guards out of here, Scarpa’s soldiers would just march in and drink up all my beer without paying.’
‘Why take us out, then? We can stay right here and make sure they pay.’
‘I’m not sure Narstil would like it if we didn’t go back to camp at night.’
‘Senga,’ Kalten said gently, ‘do you really need Narstil any more? You’re an honest businessman now. You shouldn’t be associating with bandits.’