Slowly Paran nodded.
“Your first task, Lieutenant, is to ride to the market town-what's its name again?”
“Gerrom.”
“Yes, Gerrom. They'll know this fishing village, since that's where the catch is sold. Ask around, find out which fisher family consisted of a father and daughter. Get me their names, and their descriptions. Use the militia if the locals are recalcitrant.”
“They won't be,” Paran said. “The Kanese are co-operative folk.”
They reached the top of the trail and stopped at the road. Below, wagons rocked among the bodies, the oxen braying and stamping their blood-soaked hoofs. Soldiers shouted in the press, while overhead wheeled thousands of birds. The scene stank of panic. At the far end stood the captain, his helmet hanging from its strap in one hand.
The Adjunct stared down on the scene with hard eyes. “For their sake,” she said, “I hope you're right, Lieutenant.”
As he watched the two riders approach, something told the captain that his days of ease in Itko Kan were numbered. His helmet felt heavy in his hand. He eyed Paran. That thin-blooded bastard had it made. A hundred strings pulling him every step of the way to some cushy posting in some peaceful city.
He saw Lorn studying him as they came to the crest. “Captain, I have a request for you.”
The captain grunted. Request, hell. The Empress has to check her slippers every morning to make sure this one isn't already in them. “Of course, Adjunct.”
The woman dismounted, as did Paran. The lieutenant's expression was impassive. Was that arrogance, or had the Adjunct given him something to think about?
“Captain,” Lorn began, “I understand there's a recruiting drive under way in Kan. Do you pull in people from outside the city?”
“To join? Sure, more of them than anyone else. City folk got too much to give up. Besides, they get the bad news first. Most of the peasants don't know everything's gone to hell on Genabackis. A lot of them figure city folk whine too much anyway. May I ask why?”
“You may.” Lorn turned to watch the soldiers cleaning up the road. “I need a list of recent recruits. Within the last two days. Forget the ones born in the city, just the outlying ones. And only the women and/or old men.”
The captain grunted again. “Should be a short list, Adjunct.”
“I hope so, Captain.”
“You figured out what's behind all this?”
Still following the activity on the road below, Lorn said, “No idea.”
Yes, the captain thought, and I'm the Emperor reincarnated. “Too bad,” he muttered.
“Oh.” The Adjunct faced him. “Lieutenant Paran is now on my staff. I trust you'll make the necessary adjustments.”
“As you wish, Adjunct. I love paperwork.”
That earned him a slight smile. Then it was gone. “Lieutenant Paran will be leaving now.”
The captain looked at the young noble and smiled, letting the smile say everything. Working for the Adjunct was like being the worm on the hook. The Adjunct was the hook, and at the other end of the line was the Empress. Let him squirm.
A sour expression flitted across Paran's face. “Yes, Adjunct.”
He climbed back into the saddle, saluted, then rode off down the road.
The captain watched him leave, then said, “Anything else, Adjunct?”
“Yes.”
Her tone brought him around.
“I would like to hear a soldier's opinion of the nobility's present inroads on the Imperial command structure.”
The captain stared hard at her. “It ain't pretty, Adjunct.”
“Go on.”
The captain talked.
It was the eighth day of recruiting and Staff Sergeant Aragan sat blearyeyed behind his desk as yet another whelp was prodded forward by the corporal. They'd had some luck here in Kan. Fishing's best in the backwaters, Kan's Fist had said. All they get around here is stories. Stories don't make you bleed. Stories don't make you go hungry, don't give you sore feet. When you're young and smelling of pigshit and convinced there ain't a weapon in all the damn world that's going to hurt you, all stories do is make you want to be part of them.
The old woman was right. As usual. These people had been under the boot so long they actually liked it. Well, Aragan thought, the education begins here.
It had been a bad day, with the local captain roaring off with three companies and leaving not one solid rumour in their wake about what was going on. And if that wasn't bad enough, Laseen's Adjunct arrived from Unta not ten minutes later, using one of those eerie magical Warrens to get here. Though he'd never seen her, just her name on the hot, dry wind was enough to give him the shakes. Mage killer, the scorpion in the Imperial pocket.