Free Three Coins for Confession by Scott Fitzgerald Gray

one knew whether their missions were solely designed for
disruption or whether they were looking for something. Watching and waiting as
they shadowed the Ilmari camp lines and the patrols that prowled the frontier.
    The camp ran no outriders after dark, but Chriani saw the
perimeter guards marked out by starlight as Makaysa led them onto the main
trail bisecting the rise of low hills on which the camp was spread. Bows were
drawn and arrows nocked against them, archers watching darkly as they
approached. Only when visual contact was made did they drop their aim.
    The camps of the rangers never held to a single location long
enough to become anything like a permanent presence along the frontier. Among
the nearby settlements, this site was simply the ranger camp. Among the
rangers, though, the frontier stations were named for warriors dead or retired,
gone to legend or the anecdotes and grumbling of those who had followed them.
    Konaugo Post was the designation for this camp.
Established six months past, east of Alaniver and across the Locanwater River.
The name carried a darkness for Chriani that not even Kathlan understood. The
late Captain Konaugo had been a legend in the Bastion, and on the frontier
where he had ridden in his youth. He had come back to that frontier with his
prince a year and a half before, and had been ordered by that prince to escort
the Princess Lauresa safely to Aerach along the Clearwater Way.
    Chriani had hated Konaugo, as he knew the captain hated him. He’d
been convinced that Konaugo was complicit in Barien’s death, had doubted and
distrusted him right to the end. But that end had seen Konaugo fall while
executing the same duty Chriani had taken up, the same pledge he had made. To
protect the princess even if it cost him his own life.
    The name was for the rangers alone, seen nowhere among the
banners that flew from six points around the perimeter, then again above the
central clustered tents of the captains and the war-mages. The falcon that was
the symbol of Brandishear stood highest among the standards, with the
interlocking spears beneath it that stood for the strength and bond of all four
of the Ilmar principalities. Brandishear and Elalantar to the west of the
Greatwood, Aerach and Holc to the east. The horse-and-axe insignia of the
Prince High Chanist’s house hung below those, twisting in the breeze that
picked up as the sun disappeared.
    It was that same standard under which Chriani and Kathlan
fought — the regiment of Rheran and the Bastion. But four more
standards flew alongside it, marked with shield and blade, axe and wolf and
mountain lion. The signs of the five regiments of Brandishear’s eastern frontier,
which made up the bulk of the camp’s four-thousand-strong force.
    As they passed through the first checkpoint, Makaysa gave the
signal to stop as she summoned two sentries close. Chriani didn’t hear the
words that passed between them, but he was fairly certain he saw one sentry
glance his way before turning and taking off at a run. Makaysa spurred ahead,
the squad following.
    Chriani brought up the rear, as before. He slowed to hail the
sentry Makaysa had talked to, saw the squire’s insignia in bronze at his
shoulder. “Umeni’s squad, and the rest of Sergeant Thelaur’s,” he said quietly,
one eye on Makaysa and the others moving ahead of him. “When did they make it
back?”
    “Who’s asking?”
    Chriani knew the sentry to see him but had never bothered
learning his name. The attitude of bored indifference was such a common feature
among the camp guard that he’d yet to see the point in differentiating between
them.
    “Chriani, temporarily reassigned to Sergeant Thelaur’s first
squad under Guard Second Rank Makaysa,” he said with a maximum amount of ire.
“Acting head of second squad after Sergeant Thelaur’s death.” Though none of
that was exactly true, all the time since he’d taken commission, both in the
Bastion and on the frontier, had taught