His men set camp at a polite distance from the existing companies while Sinja dared the city itself. He entered the gates at midday. It wasn't more than three hands later he was being escorted through the halls of the Warden's palace to the library and the general himself. I Ie'd surrendered his blades and the garrote he kept at his waist before being permitted to speak with the great man. Either Balasar Gice felt this unprecedented mass of men was too little for whatever task lay ahead of him and was grabbing at every spare sword and dagger in the world, or else Sinja was, for reasons that passed imagining, of particular interest to him.
Either way, Sinja disliked it.
Balasar Gice turned out to he a smallish man, mouse-brown hair running to white at the temples. He wore the gray tunic of command that Sinja had seen before when he'd been in the field as a young man fighting against the Galts or else with them. lie might have been anyone, to look at him. A farmer or a merchant seaman or a seafront customs agent.
"Bad weather for traveling," the general said, amiably, as if they were simply two men who'd met at a wayhouse. He spoke the Khaiate tongue clearly, his accent flavoring the words rather than obscuring them.
"It's always wet in the South this time of year," Sinja agreed in Galtic. "Not always so cold, but that's why the gods made wool. "['hat or as a joke against sheep."
The general smiled, either at the words or the language they were in, Sinja wasn't certain. Sinja kept his expression pleasant and empty. They both knew he was here to sell the use of his men, but only the general knew why the meeting was here and not with some low captain. Sinja opted to wait and see what came of it. Balasar Gice seemed to read his intention; he nodded and walked to a side table, where he poured them both clear wine from a cut-glass carafe. No, not wine. Water.
"I hear the Khai Machi turned you out," the general said in Galtic as he passed a cup to Sinja. That wasn't true. Sinja had told the captain that they were out from Nlachi, but perhaps there had been some misunderstanding. Sinja shrugged. It was too early in the game to correct anyone's misconceptions.
"It's his right," he said. "Some of the men were causing trouble. Too long in a quiet place. I'm sure you understand."
Balasar chuckled. It was a warm sound, and Sinja found himself liking the man. Balasar nodded to a couch beside the brazier. Sinja made a small how and sat, the general leaning casually against the table.
"You left on good terms?"
"We didn't turn back and burn the city," Sinja said, "if that's what you mean.
"Do you owe the Khai Machi loyalty? Or are you a free company?"
The truth was that any silver he took would find its way back to Otah Machi's coffers. The company was no more free than the Galtic armies outside the city. And yet there was something in the general's voice when he asked the question, something in his eyes.
"We're mercenaries. We follow whoever pays us," Sinja said.
"And if someone should offer to pay you more? No offense, but the one thing you can say of loyalty for hire is that it's for hire."
"We'll finish out a contract," Sinja said. "I've been through enough to know what happens to a company with a reputation for switching sides mid-battle. But I won't lie, the boys I have are green, most of them. They haven't seen many campaigns."
It was a softening of these poor bastards hardly know which end's thesharp one but the meaning was much the same. The general waved the concern aside, which was fascinating. Balasar Gice wasn't interested in their field prowess. Which meant he either wanted them to lead the charges and soak up a few enemy spears and arrows-hardly a role that asked the general's presence at the negotiation-or there was something more, something that Sinja was still missing.
"How many of them speak Galt?"
"A third," Sinja said, inventing the number on the spot.
"I may have use for them. How loyal are they to you?"
"How loyal do they need to be?"
The general smiled. "There was a touch of sorrow in his eyes and a long, thoughtful pause. Sinja felt a decision being made, though he couldn't say what the issue was.
"Enough to go against their own kind. Not in the field, but I'll want them as translators and agents. And whatever you can tell me of the winter cities. I'll want that as well."
Sinja smiled knowingly to cover his racing mind. Gice wasn't taking his army North. He was going east, into the cities of the Khaiem, with something close to every able-bodied man in (;air behind him. Sinja chuckled to hide a rush of fear.
""They'll follow you any place you care to go, so long as they're on the winning side," Sinja said. "Are you sure that's going to be you?"