Wednesday, March 25

100. (The Best Damn Thieves: Chapter Six, Part One)

The snow was barely coming down, and the wind had let off so the tiny flakes fell slowly around them, catching on their furs, melting on the lenses of their goggles. "They came from over there," Marcus said, pointing off to the west. "I imagine your heralds saw them coming, and were unsure how to react. They were setting up their camp, getting ready to set in for the night. The 'greenskins' probably just walked up casually, and cut down the first one to meet them.... here," he said, standing just outside the smoldering camp. There was a corpse half-buried in the snow, gore frozen around it. He could see it in his head: the corpse, probably the leader, had walked casually out of the central camp and raised his hand in greeting; he had stood there for a moment, before the greenskins were within striking distance, and then he'd been struck with a heavy weapon with a ragged blade.

"Hurm," someone muttered. Other than Fergy, who was slimmer than the locals, Marcus couldn't tell them apart under their heavy protective gear. "They probably thought it was a delegation from Hobber. They must have been dressed in furs, to have survived this deep into Vastness."

Someone else said, "If the greenskins don't know where Hobber is, where were they going?"

Isa's voice answered, "A better question is, where have they gone? I personally find it hard to care where they came from--it's a place that's better off without them."

Marcus spoke up again: "They went back the way they came. There's blood on the snow leading back along the tracks that brought them here. They must have retraced their steps." He paused for a moment, thinking. "They're lost," he added eventually, "And they don't know where they're going. They're just wandering Vastness at random. But somewhere back along their tracks they found shelter or something, a cave of outcropping of rock, and they've holed up there to recuperate."

"How hard would it be to track them back to it?" Fergy asked. She lacked the know-how to cut it in the wild on her own--skills Marcus had picked up in his soldiering days, she'd assumed. She'd never had to "rough it" before she'd met him, sneaking and lying her way into and out of whatever bed was conveniently vacant.

"Not hard," Marcus replied. "Even if the snow fills up the tracks, there's plenty of blood--and even if that gets covered up, it's just a matter of uncovering it."

Isa interjected: "You're planning on tracking them? Why?" He exchanged glances with one of the other albinos, though their expressions were hidden behind the masks. "The plan, um, was to hide Hobber, yes? A practical, peaceful solution to this issue. Enough blood has been shed as it is."

Marcus shrugged nonchalantly. "Better to know what you're hiding from, I'd think. There might only be a couple of them left."

"Um, you're on your own, then, Marcus," Isa said. "The rest of us will return to Hobber and assist the mage in any way we can. Is this satisfactory?"

Marcus and Fergy together replied, "Yes."

At the same time, Pri spoke up: "No." Marcus hadn't realized that she was there until she'd raised her voice.

Isa fidgeted. "Pri?"

"I'm going with them," she continued. "I have a few ideas as to where the greenskins would have gone."

Isa's head cocked to the side slightly. "Do you think they found one of the Walker's Marks?"

"Perhaps," the portly woman responded. "Though to be fair, if they've found shelter at all, that'll be it. There's not exactly a lot else out there."

The trio set off from the carnage, heading west. The snowfall had been light enough that the sloppy, disorganized group of ogres was easy to follow. They trekked in silence for quite some time before Pri spoke up.

"Did you enjoy it?"

Marcus replied, "The Boar?"

"Mm."

"It was an interesting experience. I look forward to taking Fergy down there. I think it would do us both some good."

Fergy let out a small chuckle. She'd found her husband's clothing piled up outside the Boar's chamber, along with Tater's, and their borrowed furs. She had been waiting, arms crossed, when they finally came upstairs. "Well," she'd said.

Marcus had been unable to stop blushing. "It's not--" he'd started, then, "We weren't--"

Fergy had just smiled and held up a hand. "It's okay, baby. I know. You must be bored of me," she'd said, laying on the melodrama. "Just remember--under all that sexy magic, she's probably ninety-seven."

Tater, who hadn't skipped a beat when she'd come up, was already half-way dressed. She'd spun around, glaring at Fergy; "Conducting tunic blasphemy!" she'd shouted angrily.

Marcus had moved to stand between them. "Look," he had said quickly, his voice low, "We don't have time for this. There's something we've--" But he'd stopped: Pri had opened the front door. Whatever he'd been trying to tell her, he didn't want to do so in front of their guide.

Out on the snow, Fergy had a question of her own: "If those were your ominous heralds," she asked, "Where's this so-called Walker?"

Pri shrugged. "It could be anywhere. I suspect Isa will send out an expedition to find it, or at the very least set out more sentries on the wall. Whoever sends out the heralds won't even know anything has happened to them until the Walker passes near whichever coastal city they embark from."

"Something that big," Fergy continued, "You'd think you'd be able to see it from just about anywhere in Vastness, as flat as this place is."

"You can only see it from up close," the albino replied. "Within... oh, maybe two-hundred yards?"

"That doesn't make any sense," Marcus interrupted.

"We have some theories," Pri said, looking back at him. "The most popular one is that the Walker is just so big, your brain can't comprehend it. It simply, um, ignores it--you could be looking straight at it on the horizon and you wouldn't even know."

Fergy laughed. "That was supposed to be an explanation? 'Your brain switches off'? That's the most ridiculous thing I've heard, and let me tell you lady, I've heard a lot of silly shit in my time."

Behind his goggles, Marcus scowled a bit at the edge in his wife's voice. "It sounds more like magic, to me," he said.

Pri replied, "There are a few who agree with you, but that begs the question--where would magic of that scale even come from? There are a few minor magicians here and there along the coast--but no one who could pull off something so, um, grandeur."

"That's curious too," Fergy said. She sounded more perplexed than facetious then. "If anyone could cross the Yawning Sea and get here, it would be a mage--surely the Magister's League could send someone across. Yet I've never even heard of anything on this side..."

Pri shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."