boil,” Sehmon commented as a man ran past at a pace barely below a sprint. He wore a light, sleeveless shirt of black cotton and a white scarf on his head and ran with a long-practised stride. Unlike the other folk traversing this road, he paid no heed to the soldiers, his gaze fixed determinedly on the city. He also carried no burden apart from a cylindrical case slung on a strap across his back.
“A messenger?” Vaelin asked Tsai Lin.
“Yes, lord. Judging by his pace, he’s probably worried over losing his scarf.”
“His scarf?”
“The distance between each messenger post is exactly three miles. The time each messenger sets off is noted, as is their time of arrival. Every week their average speed is calculated and any considered too slow will lose their scarf. They are given one week to win back their scarf by increasing their speed and will suffer the cane if they fail to do so. Six strokes for the first offence, ten for the second. A third offence will earn dismissal and disgrace.”
“So, not a sought-after role, I assume?”
“Actually, lord, there is fierce competition to enter the messenger service. The Merchant King hosts a grand race every year and only those who can run a three-mile course in the fastest time are chosen. The pay is high and the honour great.”
They came to the messengers’ outpost soon, a small building that was somewhat dwarfed by the banner of the Merchant King rising from its roof. As the company trooped by, Vaelin saw a messenger arrive from the city. Before coming to a halt, he unslung the cylinder from his back and tossed it to another man who had already set off for the north at the same measured but impressive pace.
“Wouldn’t horses be faster?” Vaelin asked Tsai Lin.
“Horse messengers are used for the northern routes where the roads are not so good,” the Dai Lo replied. “Here men are used. They require less food, and a horse does not fear the cane in the same way as a man. Strangely, it does not affect the speed of the message very much at all. A study conducted by the Merchant King’s Master of Calculation concluded that a message can be carried by foot over a distance of two hundred miles and reach its destination within fifteen hours in fair weather.” He spoke with a keen enthusiasm that put Vaelin in mind of Caenis; he too had always loved numbers.
“Two hundred miles in less than a day?” Vaelin shook his head in wonderment, recalling how it often took even a royal messenger a full week to traverse the Realm. I’ll write to Lyrna of this, he decided. Should I get the chance.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
They passed another five messenger posts before the light began to fail and Sho Tsai called a halt for the night. The Red Scouts encamped close to a larger outpost that appeared to double as a barracks for the local contingent of Dien-Ven. From the way they stoically ignored one another, Vaelin divined a certain animus between the two groups.
“They are not true soldiers, lord,” Tsai Lin said with a faint curl to his lip. “Merely tax farmers in uniform. I’ve seen them run from bandits.”
The determination of the Red Scouts to ignore the Dien-Ven seemed to be matched by their indifference to those they had been commanded to escort. They pitched their tents at a notable remove and clustered around their fires, leaving provision of supplies to Tsai Lin, who went about his duties with an aura of forced affability. Always the way in any army, Vaelin decided. The youngest are given the worst tasks.
“Leave that,” he told the Dai Lo as he filled a cooking pot with rice. “Lady Ellese and Master Sehmon will cook from now on.”
He didn’t turn upon hearing Ellese let out a thin sigh between clenched teeth. “I am bound to say, Uncle,” she grated, “I have never cooked a thing in my life.”
“Learn.” Vaelin rose and started towards where Chien sat alone, hearing Sehmon murmur, “I’ll show you. It’s not so hard. Done it sacks of times.”
“I’m sorry about your father,” Vaelin told Chien. She hadn’t lit a fire and huddled with her staff cradled in her arms.
“As head of the Crimson Band he knew the risk of aiding you,” she replied, not bothering to raise her head.
“And yet he accepted it,” Vaelin said, sinking to his haunches. “I am curious as to why.”
“He weighed the likely profit