The Slime Farmer

Chapter 51: The Missing Caravans 4

Andar il Vons, rank of major in the imperial army, currently conveying three platoons of infantry and a troop of cavalry on a training march to Agamarl from Serane, was looking at the boy who had been brought before him and his officers in the middle of the evening meal.

A curious one, this boy, the sun-tanned skin of one who had spent quite a bit of time laboring in the sun and the bearing of a gentleman. His words, if they were true, were concerning.

He glanced at the soldier holding a halberd and several weapons. "Bring those to my quarters, if you would."

"Sir." The soldier left.

He addressed the boy, who had introduced himself as Defi.

"I thank you for bringing this matter to us. You have done this empire a great service."

The boy's dark eyes studied him a moment before he bowed slightly and stepped out of the room, following one of the soldiers who had brought him in.

The mayor of Genlet, in whose home the officers had been quartered for their stay, looked bewildered. "Mercenaries? Here in the mainland? For what? Surely it cannot be banditry."

One of the vice-captains shook his head. "It is a fantastic story. The boy is likely exaggerating. Shade in the fog? Preposterous. This far south, the heat would dissipate the mist before it could be useful."

The lancer of the troop of cavalry was watching Andar as the major calmly ate, as though the interruption did not happen. "Do you believe him, sir?"

One of the vice-captains protested. "Surely not? Sir, I have reason to believe his character is not the best!"

Andar's gaze rested on the vice-captain who spoke. "Indeed?"

When he received the letter from the mayor of Sottolac, he had decided to stop at Genlet for a few days to determine the seriousness of the matter. He grew up on the great river. He was aware that towns on the trade roads depended on the caravans. It was not uncommon that a town would exaggerate bandit problems to gain military support.

Then again, he had heard some odd stories about the Sottolac mayor after he'd been stationed in Agamarl.

He'd sent Raber Gerac, the vice-captain of one of the platoons, to Sottolac in order to investigate the information that Sorza Mareble felt so worrying that she would send a messenger to accost half-trained soldiers on the road.

It appeared the vice-captain had investigated more than the reports of banditry.

"There were accusations, sir, of unfair dealings."

Andar smiled as he bit into his roast duck, but his pleasure was all for the food and not the words he was hearing. "You were in Sottolac only an afternoon. You had the time to investigate both the bandit problem and fraud? You will go far."

The vice-captain ducked his head. "Yes sir."

"You concluded the matter satisfactorily before you returned, of course?"

The young man reddened. "No, sir."

Andar hummed. "I see."

He turned to the mayor. "I assure you, sir, this matter of banditry will be concluded within the week. We will move on the morrow."

The mayor looked less pale, his full cheeks returning to its cheerful color. "Of course, major. I have faith in the prowess of our young soldiers."

"As have we, in the wisdom of the empire."

Andar returned his attention to the duck, which was really very good.

Other matters could wait until after the meal.

*

Defi was met outside the mayor's house by the group of scouts that had found him wandering around the mountain.

"Well, what did they say?"

Defi forced a smile. "We are thanked for our service to the empire."

He did not say that the information may be discarded because some junior officer met either Agreine or Calor Ducan in the Lowpool. He felt helpless, almost wishing he had not used the Current to listen in.

There was a small silence.

"That's it?"

"Are you sure you told them everything?"

"I left nothing out."

This group did not know that the bandits may be mercenaries, or about the strange fog, only that Defi's scouting party had been captured near a bandit camp.

"There is nothing we can do," sighed one of the older scouts, who'd introduced himself as Geven. "Go home. We'll see what the military is going to do in the morning."

Defi looked out into the darkness. The Lowpool was three hours away by horse, the Garge homestead another hour's from the town by boat. It would be hours after midnight that he reached his own bed.

He held in a sigh, tried not to think about the children, the slimes, the herbs, the scouting party that might not be rescued because of him.

The man spoke logically. There was nothing more he could do tonight. "Is there an inn?"

"Inn? Don't waste your money. My wife makes a better bed than those over-priced cubicles." Geven waved his question away. "I'll be back in half an hour. If you're not here, you're not joining the search parties tomorrow."

He left, leaving a speechless Defi who had not even been allowed to protest.

A woman snickered. "I guess you don't need the inn anymore."

Defi turned to them with a strained smile. "I don't suppose there's a shop open at this time of night?"

"Oh that big idiot, he's really inconvenienced you, hasn't he?" The young man a few years older than Defi clapped him on the back. "My uncle's a confectioner. He won't mind me knocking on his door during dinner. Sweetmeats are a good visiting gift, aren't they?"

There was a laugh from his friends. "For a suitor coming to court the family's daughter, Baurd. Unfortunate for you, Defi. Geven only has a younger brother."

Defi turned mutely to the others, in search of a better option, but they only shook their heads with half-amused apology.

It appeared that Baurd and his confectioner uncle were Defi's only hope for politeness. He let the young man pull him away, with nod goodbye to the rest of the Genlet search party.

*

Baurd knocked on the door of one of the larger merchant houses in town. A servant opened the door a crack and peered out. "Young sir?"

The door opened wider.

"Ahoy, Nira. Might we see uncle?" He ushered Defi inside. "My friend has a rather serious problem."

"I am not the problem solver for all your friends, Baurd."

Baurd grinned at the man crossing the receiving hall. "But you do it so well, uncle!"

The rotund man sighed, eyed Defi. "Which girl are you intending to pester with sweets then?"

Defi laughed a little. "No girl, sir. My apologies for disturbing your evening. I am Defi, of the Lowpool. Your nephew has been kind enough to offer assistance."

"That Geven ordered him to take a room at his house rather than the inn," Baurd interjected.

The uncle laughed. "That one has always been straightforward. You are in need of a visiting gift, then?"

"You have a keen understanding, mestre," Defi sighed.

The man smiled. "Well, I hope you have some time to taste a new product, hm?"

Baurd perked up and stepped ahead to the kitchen, calling back. "Uncle, you are a lord among uncles."

"And your stomach is a prince among stomachs," rebuked his uncle.

"Come now, uncle, we have not eaten yet and after a long day of ensuring the safety of our beloved town, you deny us this small succor?"

The man sighed as his nephew disappeared into the kitchen. "You are part of the search party as well, young man? Is there news?"

"I am, mestre. There has been news of a bandit camp in the canyons. Major il Vons is a decisive man, it appears, and the soldiers under his command will move soon."

The confectioner's face cleared. "I see. It has been some time since bandits attacked the caravans this close to home. You have eased my worries."

"I only spoke what little I know."

"Even so."

They entered the kitchen, to see Baurd looking despondent. "Uncle, what is this?"

He was nibbling on a thin circle of fried dough.

"A wafer. It is something similar to a sweet that is made in Zaturias which, my nephew, is an island to the southwest of the imperial mainland. Do you know it?"

"Even if I don't uncle, just by eating this, I can already surmise that nothing good comes out of Zaturias. Are you selling these, uncle? They are dry and tasteless."

"What? This is the taste of fresh wheat, pure and grown in the soil of Ascharon! Young Defi, what do you think?"

Defi took the wafer, bit into it. The outside crackled against his teeth, the thin innermost layer almost feeling non-existent from the softness of the bread. Baurd had a point; it tasted only of flour.

"Perhaps if you roll it and put something in the middle?"

Baurd pointed at him excitedly even as he stuffed wafers in his mouth. "Uncle!"

The man rolled his eyes indulgently. "Yes, yes."

He took out several ingredients, whipped up something that looked like a thick cream paste. He put it aside and readied the oil. He took the uncooked dough circles still on a plate, carefully rolled them in the fryer with a deft twist of a wrist and tongs.

The circular wafers formed cylinders that quickly stacked on a plate where the oil drained onto a cloth. Baurd and Defi watched in awe at the graceful movements. Finished, the man then piped the thick cream into the cylindrical shells.

Baurd and Defi took one each as the confectioner offered them.

The shell was crisp on the outside, airy in the center, the cream not too sweet but full of flavor.

"Uncle, you should hire Defi to be your confectioner advisor." Baurd looked delighted at the new creation.

The man laughed. "I do not think the young man will accept. But worry not for your visiting gift. I will make it myself. It will be refreshing to look into my sour recipes again."

Defi was relieved.

At least this night, his immediate problems were so simply solved.

**

**

*

Notes:

vice-captain - a junior infantry officer, normally in charge of a platoon of soldiers.

[After great debate, decided to use vice-captain instead of 'lieutenant' or 'sub-captain' because despite its history 'lieutenant' sounds too modern and 'sub-captain' sounds strange to my ears.]

lancer - the junior officer of cavalry, normally in charge of a troop, which is about 20 to 100 riders.

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