Part 12 (1/2)

Talen pointed at the footprint. ”What do you make of these?”

Nettle walked over. He took a wet cloth, wiped his chest, and looked down.

”They're not mine or yours,” Talen said.

”The toes look a little long,” Nettle said.

Long toes made Talen think of the woodikin. When the first settlers arrived in these lands, they found a number of small, hairy creatures sitting in a wild apple tree eating fruit. The first settlers had considered the creatures pests, but over time things had turned deadly, for the woodikin were not simple and dumb brutes. There had been much bloodshed between the first people and the tribes of the woodikin.

”Woodikin?” Talen asked.

”No,” Nettle said, ”this foot is too fat. And the toes aren't nearly long enough. They're human.”

”The prints are too small for any of us,” said Talen.

”So it could be the sleth children or someone else. If it is sleth, you know we're bound by law to report it to the authorities.”

”And have them take all the glory and the reward?”

”I'm just saying we need to think this through.”

”What's there to think? We get my da out here and execute a plan. We're not talking about some ancient sleth. We're talking about children.”

”I know,” said Nettle. ”But I also know you don't give some things enough time. You jump to conclusions. Look at your father's spoon.”

”Are you saying you don't want to help?”

”No,” said Nettle. ”I'm in. But we need to have a solid plan. Not some half-baked thing. This one-legged hatchling snare scheme of yours is about as good as your running up the tree to escape Ke and River. This is one print. One hatchling. How many others might there be? We have to take that into account.”

Nettle had a point, but sometimes you didn't have time to reconnoiter and strategize. ”If you'd been in my shoes this morning,” said Talen, ”River and Ke would have had you before the chase began because you'd still be deciding which way to run. Sometimes what's required is immediate action.”

”Yes, just do the first thing that comes to mind. That will win wars and conquer nations.”

Nettle heard a lot from his father and his men about battle. But just because his father was a man of battle tactics didn't elevate Nettle to the same level. ”You only get a perfect plan after the fact, Nettle. A good plan, boldly executed now, is far better than a perfect one next week.”

”If they're sleth,” said Nettle, ”then a hasty plan will get us both killed. I just want to make sure we do this thing in a way that will show everyone what we're capable of. Not a way that backfires on us.”

Nettle was right, but that didn't make his resistance any less annoying. ”Fine. Are you going to help me look for more spoor or are you just going to stand there dripping on the bricks?”

Talen and Nettle found two other sets of prints: one by the privy and the second in the mud by the pig pen. Nettle had just measured the one by the pig pen with his hand and concluded they had found prints that belonged to two different people, not one, when a man spoke from behind them.

”What have you got there, boys?”

Talen jumped. A huge, soldier stood only a few paces away. Two others stood behind him. The one in front had a dark beard that was long and unkempt like the fur of a s.h.a.ggy dog. A blue hand was painted on the right breast of his cuira.s.s. Each of the Nine Clans had many orders; the blue hand was one of the smaller Fir-Noy orders, but it was not made up of common men. This was an armsman, a professional soldier. His military belt with its ornate buckle and honor discs confirmed it. Only an armsman was allowed to wear that belt and the leather ap.r.o.n straps signifying his seniority. The other two men carried the blue hand on their armor as well.

Talen looked at the lead armsman's wrist. It was marked with a tusk tattoo that extended up his forearm arm-the same design as the tattoo on the Fir-Noy that had sicced the Stag Home villagers on him. Talen had expected some reprisal from the Fir-Noy at Stag Home. But he thought it would come as a fine levied by the Shoka authorities. He didn't think the Fir-Noy would send his men, and certainly not so quickly.

”Boy,” the armsman said, ”I asked you a question.”

”We don't have anything, Zu,” Talen said. ”Just talking about some wildcat tracks we found over the hill today.”

The man looked down at the prints Talen and Nettle had been discussing and took a step to get a clearer view.

The dogs began to bark. Moments later a number of soldiers filtered out of the woods on one side of the farm. A few others approached from the fields on the other side.

”Nothing terrible needs to happen here today,” said the armsman. ”We just need your cooperation. You ought to start by calling your dogs before they get hurt.”

Talen didn't believe a word of it. Somebody was going to get hurt. Something valuable was going to be taken.

The cords of the muscles on the soldier's arms and neck stood out. Most soldiers were levied from the ranks of the common people for a battle or watch, but it was always temporary; they served, and then went back to their lives. Commoners practiced regularly, it was true, but that could not be compared to the armsmen who did nothing but practice war. And not only was he an armsman, but the dark feathers in the tubes on either side of his untied helmet marked him as someone who held authority. Not a leader of a hundred, but a Hammer, someone marked for his performance in battle, someone who had proved himself and was marked for others to follow. Talen suspected this one had probably killed many men. The armsman had tied a piece of black cloth around his left upper arm. It signified he was a sleth hunter.

”Call your dogs,” the man said again.

Talen whistled for the dogs, but they only barked more viciously.

Nettle looked up at the armsman and put his hands on his hips. ”You have no authority here. This is Shoka land.”

It was rude for Nettle to address the armsman without the formal ”Zu” even if Uncle Argoth as a Captain for the Shoka outranked this man.

The man grinned a surprisingly rot-free smile. Then he stepped up to Nettle and backhanded him in the face, knocking him to the ground.

Talen turned to help Nettle up, but Nettle only pushed his hand away. When he gained his feet, his face was red, eyes tearing from the pain of the man's blow.

The armsman drew his sword and pointed it at Nettle. ”Argoth's get, aren't you? Well, I'd watch what I said. None of daddy's men are here to keep you from stubbing your toe. And we wouldn't want any accidents.”

Nettle clenched his jaw in anger. He was going to say something, but Talen cut him off. ”What do you want, Zu?”

”You're going to round everyone up. I want them standing by the well.”

Suddenly Queen's and Blue's barking rose to a pitch by the old sod house, and then one of them screamed.

”I told you to call your dogs,” the armsman said.

”Blue!” Talen yelled. ”Queen!”

Talen ran toward the old house. Three soldiers stood in the yard between the old house and the new one. One stood with a drawn sword over Blue. Blue cried out in pain, eyes wide, and tried to scrabble away from the man, but the dog's back legs were injured. Blood ran out a wound in his hind quarters. Queen stood back, cowering. When she saw Talen, her courage rose, and she barked at the soldiers again.

Ke and River rushed out of the house to the yard, looks of concern and alarm on their faces, River still wearing her cooking ap.r.o.n. Da strode out of the barn with the Hog in his hand then saw the soldiers. ”What's going on here?” he asked.

”You'll put that down,” said the big armsman, ”and tie your other dog up.”

Da turned to the armsman. ”Who are you?”

”I'm here in the name of the Council. You will stand and account.”

”I'll do no such thing, not to the likes of you.”

The big armsmen grinned. ”Oh, I think you will.”