webcrawl/APGTE/Book-4/tex/Ch-007.md.tex

\hypertarget{chapter-6-hedges}{%
\section{Chapter 6: Hedges}\label{chapter-6-hedges}}

\begin{quote}
\emph{``Irritant's Law: inevitable doom is a finite resource, and
becomes mere doom when split between multiple heroic bands. Nemeses
should never simultaneously engage a single villain.''}

-- Extract from `The Axiom Appendix', multiple contributors
\end{quote}

I sat at a table across from Baron Henry Darlington of Hedges and
Baroness Ainsley Morley of Harrow, shared a smile with them and wondered
which one of them would be the first to try to sell me out to the
crusaders.

I knew for a fact that Procer had approached the both of them long
before a hole was punched through the Whitecaps. Hasenbach's people were
good, but the Observatory was better and no one had any real idea yet of
exactly what it could do. You couldn't counter something you didn't know
about, as I had learned the hard way. I'd been keeping a close eye on
these two, through both the Jacks and sorcerous means, and even though
Morley was the one who'd just had to flee her own city my bet was on
Darlington being the one to try for a deal. He was the older of the two,
in his late forties, and though he'd had a reputation as a knight of
some skill in his youth his belly made it clear he'd traded swords for
mutton chops a long time ago. Morley, the Jacks had informed me, was in
her thirties but had inherited the barony from her father only a year
before the Liesse Rebellion. Her lands were larger than Darlington's but
her personal holdings smaller and the rest split among vassals who'd
been rather unruly after her ascension. If the betrayal came from the
Harrow contingent, I'd wager that it would be from one of her sworn
lords and not Morley herself. Both of them were being very cordial as we
shared a drink -- water for me, that tricky little oath -- but they were
also quite bad at hiding how surprised they were I'd reached Hedges so
quickly.

Seven days through Arcadia, and my twenty thousand strong Army of Callow
began marching out into the pastures to the south of the city. The
Observatory had confirmed that the crusaders were only starting to come
out on the Callowan side of the passage through the Whitecaps. Slower
than expected, but then our estimates had been based on Legion marching
speeds. Revised downwards, of course, but apparently not quite enough.
There'd been some alarm when we popped out of the woodworks, but I'd
been one of the first out the fairy gate and to be blunt if we'd meant
to take Hedges there wasn't shit either of them could have done about
it. The city was more of a glorified town, and its defences were
laughable. The curtain wall was a short and worn-down compared to almost
every other city in Callow, since the north had never really faced the
threat of Praesi invasions. Their enemies had been each other, which
involved more cattle-theft than sieges even in the old days before
unification, and on rare occasion Daoine. The Deoraithe were not prone
to expansion, but before they were brought into the fold by Eleanor
Fairfax they'd not been above the occasional raid or punitive expedition
to express displeasure at the royal family in Laure.

``I'm impressed by how quickly you got your people out, Baroness,'' I
told Morley. ``And how thoroughly.''

There was a slight tinge of discomfort in their eyes at the reminder
that I knew exactly what was going on in their lands and they had no
real idea how. Darlington cleared his throat.

``Perhaps prematurely, Your Majesty, if you'll forgive my saying so. It
seems to me it might have been possible to contest Harrow.''

I took that more as an indication that he'd rather pitched battles not
take place at even the outskirts of his lands than sympathy for Morley,
but then he'd gotten on my nerves often enough I wasn't inclined to
think well of him. I sipped at my cup.

``They've moved slower than anticipated,'' I conceded. ``There are,
however, concerns you might not be considering. Do you both know what a
Hell Egg is?''

Morley paled but Darlington was unmoved.

``Some Praesi devilry, no doubt,'' he said.

``It's true then,'' Baroness Ainsley said quietly. ``The Lost Standard,
it actually exists?''

``I have it on good authority it's in the lands around Harrow,'' I told
her. ``But my attempts to locate it have been fruitless for now.''

Darlington was lost, and by the look on his face that was not a state of
affairs he was willing to tolerate for long.

``And what Wasteland tale is this?'' he said. ``I did not take you for a
superstitious sort, Your Majesty.''

``Considering the Diabolist used one of those very standards against me
at Marchford, superstition is perhaps the wrong term,'' I very mildly
said.

It was rather delightful to watch it sink in. It was a well-told tale
what I'd faced in the defence of what was now my personal holding.

``There's a \emph{demon} in the north?'' he hissed.

``My father told me that Triumphant left old madness behind her, when I
was a child,'' Morley said. ``I thought it a legend, but are these not
times where old stories breathe again?''

``I won't fight heroes on grounds where releasing a demon is a risk,'' I
told them frankly. ``The moment the crusaders forged a beachhead near
Harrow, it became indefensible. I'm sorry for what that puts your people
through, Baroness, but-''

The woman shook her head.

``No, Your Majesty,'' she said. ``Nothing was lost but pride and coin.
If anything, I must thank you sincerely for your prudence. I would
rather see my coffers emptied than my people\ldots{}''

She trailed off, and I didn't finish that sentence for her. Where demons
were concerned, the least said was always the better.

``They're my people too,'' I said quietly. ``I would rather not fight
this war at all, but diplomatic resolution has been refused.''

``\emph{Procer},'' Morley said feelingly.

And though I suspected Darlington wished me dead at least once a day,
even his lip curled in distaste at the mention of the Principate. We did
like our grudges, us Callowans, and Procer had earned more than a few.
That passing moment of common feeling did nothing to blind me to the
very real possibility that one or both of these two would try to sell me
down the river before the month was out.

``I would offer my men for the battle, Your Majesty,'' Morley finally
said.

``It'd be a pleasure to fold your horse under the Broken Bells,'' I told
her. ``I'll send Grandmaster Talbot your way. But if you mean to send
foot as well, I'll need Legion officers overseeing. Marshal Juniper will
not agree otherwise.''

The latter was a little sketchy, under current Callowan law, but Juniper
was the highest officer in the Army of Callow and theoretically had the
same broad authority that the Shining Princes and ruling Fairfaxes had
once held in war time. This particular request, though, had consistently
seen me stonewalled by the same two nobles in front of me. Even after
amending the request to having \emph{observing} Legion officers it had
remained a sticking point. Baroness Kendall had argued the matter wasn't
worth forcing, given the limited amount of men these two could bring,
and she'd had a point. Better not to have them at all than have them
only as unreliable addition.

``That will not be an issue,'' Baroness Ainsley grimly said.

Some of my surprise must have shown on my face, because she offered a
rueful smile.

``Morleys have held Harrow for three hundred years, Your Majesty,'' she
said. ``I will not surrender my lands to some prancing Proceran shit
without a fight.''

``We'll be glad to have you,'' I said.

That'd been\ldots{} unexpected. And, though I'd like to think better of
her, was enough of a change it raised my suspicions. Still, it wouldn't
do to look a gift horse in the mouth too openly.

``They sent an envoy,'' Morley suddenly said.

My eyes sharpened as I studied her. She looked embarrassed but
determined.

``The Procerans, they sent an envoy,'' she said. ``To offer terms.''

Baron Darlington had gone very, very still. I drank a mouthful of water
then calmly set down the cup.

``Good ones, I hope?''

She snorted.

``I would be allowed to keep my lands,'' she said. ``A marriage to one
of our \emph{betters} would be arranged for one of my children as well.
They wanted Henrietta, which was rather telling. They're more interested
in us taking their names than the other way around.''

``Let me guess,'' I drawled. ``You were to join with the army and pass
information. Maybe change sides halfway through a battle?''

``They were slightly more circumspect,'' the baroness said. ``But the
implications ran along those lines. They\ldots{} it was a way to weather
the storm, Your Majesty.''

I watched her closely. She'd not agreed, no. She wouldn't have spoken up
otherwise. But she'd not chased them out either. I'd already known that,
but I was surprised she was willing to share. \emph{You dislike me}, I
thought. \emph{We both know that. But in the end for all that you see me
an evil I am Callowan evil and that still matters, doesn't it?}

``Treason,'' Darlington said thickly. ``How horrid. It is mother's milk
to the men of Procer, we have always known this.''

``I do not hang women for entertaining envoys,'' I softly said. ``And
would rather have honest, open opposition than a snake in the grass.
Hasenbach will make offers again. She needs to, because she knows it is
madness to try to hold Callow by force while warring with the Wasteland.
But make no mistake, she \emph{needs} to hold Callow. And we all know
Procer does not easily relinquish lands it takes.''

Morley nodded slowly. She was not a handsome woman, and the stark relief
on her face did her no favours.

``My duties prevent me from lingering,'' I told them, and slowly rose to
my feet. ``Baron Darlington, an officer from the general staff will seek
audience to discuss our supply lines.''

``They will find me a welcoming host, Your Majesty,'' the man said,
rising to his feet as well.

I nodded at Morley, then paused. I looked into Darlington's eyes.

``A redheaded man,'' I stated, ``with a Liessen accent. He stayed two
days.''

The man's face went bloodless.

``Always assume I know,'' I gently said.

I left only utter silence in my wake.

---

I'd decided, when first stumbling upon this particular wall, that it was
too low to be meant as a defence. And too far from the city besides,
though the low hill overlooking the outskirts of Hedges would have been
good grounds to raise a guard tower. Most likely it'd been used to keep
cattle penned in, though by the looks of it years had passed since it'd
last fulfilled that purpose. With the cool evening breeze and the view,
it made a pleasant enough place to sit as I awaited the people I'd sent
for. This was my first visit this far up north, and to be honest the
entire region seemed rather bare to me. Green and brown fields made
muddy by the melting snows spread as far as the eye could see, touched
by only sparse thickets of trees and the occasional low slope. Hedges
itself was a far cry from the large cities of the south. Larger than
Dormer in overall size, perhaps, but most that space was empty and the
city itself was visibly poorer. No paved streets, here, only mud tracks.
And fewer stone houses than any other Callowan city I'd seen, most of
them wooden structures with straw rooftops. Aside from the run-down
curtain wall that sloppily circled outer Hedges, there were no real
fortifications to speak of. Even the baron's keep was only a glorified
hill with towers and a hall.

I puffed at my pipe and blew the smoke into the wind, watching twilight
catch up to the Army of Callow encamped behind me. Cooking fires were
already lit and the tents raised, a series of palisades preparing the
soldiers for an attack unlikely to come this early. Juniper had insisted
on full fortifications, though privately she'd told me it was more to
drill the men in the raising of them than out of true worry got an enemy
strike. A plume of wakeleaf streamed further and further away until it
thinned out of existence, and I felt a smile quirk my lips. I'd have to
give him this, even if my senses had only grown sharper he was still
giving it a worthy effort.

``The mud gives you away,'' I said. ``Should have tried it without
boots.''

``I have very delicate feet, Your Majestic Queenship,'' Special Tribune
Robber cheerfully lied, rising from his crouched position beneath the
hill's angled slope.

I hid the spasm of grief that passed through me when I looked at him.
Robber was fifteen, now. Most goblins didn't make it past thirty-five,
and past thirty they began to swiftly go decrepit. I'd always known at
as a villain, if I didn't get killed, I'd likely outlive most my closest
friends in the Fifteenth. Looking at the thickening eyebrow ridges and
the fresh wrinkles around his mouth, I was imposed a fresh reminder that
the goblins among my companions would be the first to go. Pickler wasn't
showing either of those marks, but then she was from a matron line.
Those were supposed to be almost a breed apart. I waited until he was
plopped at my side, swinging his legs like a greenish murderous child,
to reply.

``You know, lying to your monarch is technically treason,'' I informed
him.

``I heard if you commit it enough time it cancels out,'' Robber mused.
``I should probably keep doing it, just to be on the safe side.''

``That's the kind of talk that'll get busted back to Lesser Lesser
Footrest,'' I said, eyebrow quirking.

``Oh come on,'' he whined. ``Where am I going to find another sworn
enemy's father to murder?''

``Well, if anyone can it's going to be you,'' I snorted.

I inhaled the smoke as he remained silent, though never still. It was
something I'd learned to notice about goblins: they always seemed to be
moving, even if only slightly. Like they were afraid they'd drop dead if
they stopped.

``We're about to start having informational issues,'' I finally told
him. ``Too many priests and heroes with the Procerans, and that'll screw
with scrying. Even the Observatory's.''

He grinned, wide and vicious.

``Are we still pretending that thing's just a pretty bunch of scrying
pools?'' he asked. ``'cause the Catherine Foundling I know doesn't shell
out that much gold for anything she can't swing at an enemy.''

I smiled thinly but did not reply. The little discovery Masego had made
that he called \emph{absolute positioning} was potentially one of the
nastiest tricks up my sleeve, but it was one I intended to sit on as
long as possible. The moment I used it I would grow sharply as a threat
in everyone's eyes. I couldn't afford that, not until I had all my
pieces in place.

``We can narrow down their positions with the negatives,'' I said. ``But
we can't go in with sparse eyes against an army that large. How are the
mages we assigned you?''

``They're coming along nicely,'' Robber said. ``They don't even scream
anymore when they wake up with a knife to the throat in the middle of
the night.''

``Don't break my mages, Robber,'' I sighed. ``You know we don't have any
to spare.''

``You do me grave injustice,'' he mourned. ``I'm teaching them important
life lessons, like `crying never helps' and `sleeping deep is sleeping
dead'.''

``You're not getting new ones if you screw these ones up,'' I warned
him. ``There's nothing left from the Hedge Guild to draft.''

``It's my Gods-given duty to educate tender-hearted Callowans like
them,'' he righteously told me. ``Speaking of, I heard this thing about
northerners. Is it true they-``

``Every single joke about northerners and sheep has also been made about
goblins and goats,'' I warned him.

``Calumny,'' he protested. ``That hardly ever happens unless the goat is
shaved and painted green.''

I rolled my eyes.

``All right, if you're comfortable enough fucking around then they won't
be an issue,'' I said. ``Juniper will put scouts on the field, but I
want a set of eyes deep behind enemy lines. You've just volunteered for
that duty.''

``I am the most dutiful goblin ever born,'' Robber agreed, clearly
pleased. ``Tell me we're not just skulking, though. It's been a while
since my people stabbed anything, they're getting restless.''

``I'm keeping you as a dagger,'' I said. ``That means low profile until
I use you.''

He blew his tongue at me, which was mildly unsettling considering it was
pitch black.

``Boo,'' he said. ``Boo Catherine boo.''

``Have Captain Borer write you up for insolence,'' I ordered. ``The
exceedingly well-document fact that you are a filthy wretch aside, we
both know sending you to roam when there's a crew of heroes on the loose
is like feeding a wolf meat scraps.''

``They can't kill us if they don't fight us,'' he shrugged.

``I thought you'd say that,'' I grunted. ``But I have worries, and
Juniper shares them. So we're assigning you a partner.''

``Tell me it's Larat,'' he begged. ``The man is like a goblin that was
fed particularly violent rocks.''

Wait, could goblins actually eat -- no, Catherine, never go down the
Robber rabbit hole. There are no answers at the bottom, only headaches
and befuddlement.

``No,'' I replied. ``She's actually coming up right now.''

Yellow eyes flicked downhill and then I was given the opportunity to
delight in the vicious little bastard actually looking uneasy.

``\emph{Gods} no,'' he said. ``That's sadistic even for you, Queenie.''

``Evening Cat,'' Archer grinned. ``And you too, Robert.''

``You know that's not my name,'' the goblin hissed.

``I'm very sorry, Bobber,'' Indrani said. ``I swear.''

``You can't send her with us,'' Robber said. ``She bit off Akua's
head!''

I blinked.

``She did what now?'' I warily asked.

Robber looked shifty, which considering he could skulk in broad daylight
without trying was an almost miraculous achievement.

``I'm not saying it happened, but it's possible a betting ring
technically illegal under Legions regs just spontaneously emerged,'' he
said.

``Akua was a scorpion,'' Archer cheerfully informed me.

``Not just a scorpion, you brute, she was a purebred Wasteland
Rattler,'' the goblin insisted. ``And her full name was Akua
Sahedon't.''

``You bit off a scorpion's head,'' I enunciated slowly, looking at
Indrani.

She shrugged.

``The Lady always said it's important to establish the pecking order
early in a relationship,'' she replied. ``Wouldn't you agree, Borer?''

``That's someone else,'' Robber muttered peevishly. ``And I had a
month's pay riding on Akua killing Willie Angels.''

So my sappers were importing no doubt massively oversized Wasteland
scorpions, naming them after old opponents of mine and pitting them in
death fights. I truly wished I could say that was the worst thing I'd
ever caught them doing, but this was a bad time to start lying to
myself.

``I'm going to pretend I never heard this,'' I decided out loud.
``Mostly because, well, Hakram's not around and \emph{I}'\emph{m} sure
as Hells not filing a report about giant scorpions if I can avoid it. As
your beloved queen, I order you to pretend to get along when I'm within
hearing range. There, I fixed it.''

``I love it when she gets all authoritative,'' Archer told the goblin.

``I hope you also enjoy scorpions in your bedding,'' he whispered back
at her. ``Akua had babies, before you callously murdered her.''

``See, he's already offering me snacks,'' Indrani smiled. ``Herbert and
I are great friends, Catherine. Just the best.''

I closed my eyes and wished very hard they would disappear, but when I
opened them they were obstinately still there. One of these days, that
was going to work and they were all going to be sorry.

``Robber, get your people ready,'' I ordered. ``You're leaving in half a
bell. Archer\ldots{}''

``No need, I've already prepared supplies,'' Indrani replied, hoisting
up what was quite clearly a wineskin full of -- by the smell of it --
hard liquor.

``Just don't forget your bow,'' I sighed.

Gods go with them, though hopefully not the ones Above. The kind if work
I had in mind for these two would be frowned upon, upstairs.