Octobers Baby by Glen Cook Page A

I’m going down. Tomorrow.”
     
     

FOUR: The Narrowing Way
     
    I) Return of the Disciple
    Ragnarson did not leave for Itaskia next morning.
    He woke to find the household in an uproar.
    All his people had spent the night at the greathouse, vainly awaiting Mocker. He assumed Nepanthe, unwill-ing to let her husband out of sight, would come along and could be put to doctoring.
    He went to see what was the matter.
    Luck rode with him in a small, left-handed way. Bevold Lif, despite his bashed head, had risen early to go to the mill. He had started out afoot and had quickly returned. El Murid’s men were back, waiting for dawn.
    Ragnarson quietly tried to get the animals back into the cellars, the building doused down, and weapons readied. If they had the confidence to return, the raiders had picked up reinforcements.
    As false dawn lightened the land, he counted their horses. There were nearly thirty surrounding the house, at a distance demonstrating their respect for the Itaskian bow.
    “You think they’ll attack?” Bevold asked.
    “I wouldn’t,” Ragnarson replied. “But there’s nofiguring those people. They’re crazy. That’s why they did so well in the wars. That and being able to field every grown man. Iwa Skolovda and Prost Kamenets have the same problem on their Shara borders. Nomads don’t have to stay home to get the crops in. And they don’t use much equipment a man can’t make himself, so their cavalry doesn’t need a broad peasant base...”
    “That’ll reassure everybody,” Elana said sarcastically. Bragi, as he aged, had developed a tendency to lecture. “Uthe and Dahl are in the tower. U the said to tell you they have a ‘shaghun.’”
    “Uhn,” he grunted. “That’s not good.”
    “Why not?”
    “A shaghun’s a sort of priest-knight. They’re a fighting order like the Guild’s Knights Protectors. One with a group this small is unusual.”
    “So?”
    “They’re sorcerers too. Not big-time, but they’ve got some magic.”
    “But I thought El Murid killed all the magicians...”
    “Sure!” Ragnarson interrupted, sneering. “All that didn’t get religion. You ever hear of a priest who wouldn’t make a deal with his devil to get what he wanted? El Murid’s no different. He’s a politician first, same as all of them. He just started out with ideals. After reality kicked his ass a few times, he started compromising. The shaghun system worked for the Royalists-Haroun is supposed to be one, but he didn’t get much training before he had to run-so why not for him?”
    Bragi was a cynic who disapproved of any organization structured for purposes other than warfare. His opinions of governments were as severe as those regarding priesthoods.
    “What can we do?” Elana asked.
    “About what?”
    “About this hedge-wizard, you lummox!” Mornings they both could be bears.
    “Oh. I’ll have to kill him. Or give up and see what he wants. How’s Rolf?”
    “Still in a coma. I don’t think he’ll come out.”
    “Grim. Where’s Mocker? And where’s that shaghun? If
    I’m going to get him, I got to know where.” He sent someone to get Uthe from the tower.
    Elana started to ask why he had to do it. She knew. It was his way. The more dangerous the task, the less likely he was to delegate it.
    “Let’s go to the study,” Bragi said. He had a room of his own off the main hall where, supposedly, he attended to business. It was more a museum filled with mementos, and a library. “I hope he stays alive long enough to tell me why I’ve got El Murid’s horses trampling my wheat.”
    “I’d like to see him live a little longer than that.” She revealed too much emotion. Bragi frowned puzzledly, was about to ask something when Uthe arrived.
    The men went to four maps hung on a wall. One was of the west, political; another of the Itaskian Kingdom; a third was of the landgrant with inked notations about resources and special features. The last was of the area around the house,