"Watch and bring us your report tonight." Kelleran had said. "And be terribly careful not to be seen." As if I had no idea what the consequences of my being sighted by the wrong person were.
The glamour I'm wearing lets him think that I'm his callow recruit. It serves my purposes well. He has no idea that his callow young guard is in the tree above our heads, bound and gagged. Tonight I am taking his place just to be sure that the shipment in my charge gets to its destination without a hitch. My information was correct, Kelleran is up to his old tricks, raiding his neighboring rivals shipment caravans. This is, of course, against the treaty he signed only this past summer. It is also no surprise to anyone.
The shipment tonight is a critical one for it's producers. It is the yearly tax payment to the Zward and failure to complete the shipment will bring woe for the coming year. That's why they hired my sometime companions for tonight's delivery. The MecCleary twins have never failed to bring a shipment to the Zward on time and intact. No one is supposed to know that it is because I ride with them on nights like this.
This is an extremely vulnerable crossroads, so naturally Kelleran's raiding party isn't expecting us to use it tonight. That's why they posted that poor lad in the tree here. That's also why we are using it.
From up the hill I can sense Ian's caution approaching. A moment later he is barely visible peering through the foliage searching for a friendly sign. Urging my mount out of the shadows onto the moonlit path, I wave silently at him. Relief crosses his face and he nods in response to the finger at my lips before slipping back down the path to where his brother Derek is waiting with the cart. They pass me in the thickening mist with nervous nods and smiles, leading the cart ponies on foot to keep them as quiet as possible.
A last glance at the lad in the tree assures me that he won't fall out before someone finds him. He won't remember a thing about tonight. His pony is hobbled nearby and will probably be found before he is.
We take the familiar, mist shrouded path to the wareshouse where Ian and Derek unload the whiskey crates. By long standing agreement they are allowed to spend the hours until dawn in the guard's room here. We will dice and drink a bit, I'll see how much of my master's coin I can win from them before he even pays them with it.
The MecCleary twins, Ian and Derek, identical save for their hair. Ian with black, like a raven's wing; and Derek with red, the colour of a sunset through a funeral pyre's smoke. They sometimes finish each others sentences and often move in unconscious syncopation. Not many people will spend a night under the same roof as they, but I don't mind these two and they don't mind me. Our original uneasy truce has developed into a fast and thick friendship.
We make these sorts of trips about every third night during the Autumnal weeks. It keeps the twins pretty well paid, I think, even if I do get a good portion of their wages out of them at dice. Then again, the twins get paid at both ends. A fee from whomever needs the delivery and a fee from the Zward for not stealing anything from it. Almost none of the clans will actually make the deliveries of their taxes or even the goods purchased to the Zward. They prefer to stay safely away from the top of this range, where the Willowstaff clan dwells.
Eventually the day dawns through the mist, bringing with it the footsteps announcing my master's arrival. He quickly inspects the night's work and a smile announces his pleasure at it's completion. A heavy black coin purse appears in this hand. He floats it to Ian and bows to them both before turning to go. He is quite a sight in the morning sun, a close match to his father in looks and tastes. The very mist seems to give way to his presence as he strides up the path to the main gate.
From his spot leaning against the doorframe, Derek breaks my revere.
"He has quite an effect on you, friend Rodney. One of these mornings you're going to completely forget the coin you've won during the night."
That brings a laugh unbidden from my throat.
"Never fear on that account, dear friend."
Derek always does hope that I'll kindly forget his losses of these nights. It pains him so to part with the coins that I win from him. He often tells me that he's never won a single copper from me at our games, which isn't quite true. Still, I surely have won those few coppers back a hundredfold by now.
Ian counts out my winning from both of them and presents it with a smile.
"Spend it in good health, Rodney. We'll meet you in two days at the Cock and Ball to arrange our next delivery. Come, Derek. There's a feast at an inn with our names on it."
They gather up their belongings and load them into the cart without a single word passing between them. Words aren't required for most things these two do together. They wave me good-bye and leave by the main road. I know that unless someone gathers up enough courage to kill them off, they'll be at the Cock and Ball waiting for me in two days.
My belly thunders at me to break fast for the day, so I head up the hill to the greathouse. With any luck at all, I'll get there to the kitchen before Antony quits serving breakfast.
Roderick Willowstaff is really my name. The twins only call me "Rodney" to get on my nerves. It used to work, now it's just another of the running jokes between us. It's my task to insure that the items ordered by my lord to run the clan's affairs are delivered on time and intact. I also double as a tax collector and emissary. I have lived here at the Castle Willowstaff since being cast out of my mother's clan as a small child for being able to tell whether an unborn child would be a boy or girl. the problem was I was never wrong. Not a good thing to let anyone know you can do if you want to stay inside for the winter.