Free Upland Outlaws by Dave Duncan

“Are you telling me that you don’t recognize Shandie as imperor?” The grin was still there, and the menace more obvious.
    Ylo pulled on hose. What was his relationship to Shandie now? An imperor could reward his associates with vast riches. A deposed ruler had nothing to offer but danger and hardship. On the other hand, if he ever did win back his throne, then his gratitude to those who had stood by him in his time of troubles ought to be infinite. Obviously a cautious man would assess the odds with great care. Last night the situation had seemed utterly hopeless, but perhaps by daylight there might be some rays of encouragement.
    He met the centurion’s steely eye. Hardgraa would not be thinking that way. His loyalty to Shandie was personal and absolute; he would serve Shandie if he had to hide out in a cave until his dying day. He and Ylo were longtime comrades now, but the old legionary would not hesitate to slit Ylo’s throat if he suspected he was a threat to the imperor, and obviously anyone on this ship who was not totally loyal would be a threat. The rule of law did not apply here, as Ylo himself had just pointed out.
    “I think I’ll discuss my allegiance when Shandie himself asks me.”
    The centurion put his dagger away, but his face alone was still an open threat. “Should have taken that dukedom while you had the chance, shouldn’t you?”
    Ylo bent to buckle a shoe. It was a perfect fit. “Rivermead? That was just a rumor, just court gossip. Why would he have offered to make me a duke? Would I have turned it down if he had? “
    “He told me he had, and you had.”
    Ylo did not look up. He had been very stupid to refuse that offer. The preflecting pool had promised him Eshiala, but even if he still put any faith in that vision, what was a seduction compared to a dukedom? He had hoped to win both-tumble first and Rivermead second.
    “I expect you’ll believe him and not me, then.”
    “Every time,” Hardgraa said.
    Shoes fastened, Ylo rose to his feet, balancing against the gentle roll of the ship. “Any idea where we’re going or what we’re doing?”
    Hardgraa’s face was unreadable now. “Not much. The most urgent business is to find a safe retreat for the impress and her daughter.”
    Ylo picked up the cloak and adjusted it on his shoulders. “Sounds logical.”
    “Of course she’ll need protection-someone will have to stay and guard her. “
    Their eyes met.
    “Old Ionfeu and his wife, I expect?” Ylo said, but his heart had started to beat a little faster.
    Hardgraa nodded. “Plus a fighting man.”
    “Then we’ll see who he really trusts, won’t we?”
    “Yes, we will, won’t we?” the centurion said darkly. Ylo felt quite hurt by his obvious suspicion.
    The deckhouse was bright and reasonably warm. Everyone was sitting around on shabby chairs and well-worn sofas, and the prevailing mood seemed to be one of dark brooding. There was no talking. There was no sign of food, either, so Hardgraa had not been lying when he said that Ylo had missed breakfast. His arrival seemed to go unnoticed.
    Shandie was sitting by himself, staring into space, thinking. His face gave nothing away, but then it never did. He was the most impassive of men. Whether he was deciding what to have for lunch or how many thousand men to send to certain death, he always looked like that when he was thinking.
    Ylo walked over and bowed. He needed practice in bowing. He had the imperor’s full attention instantly-Shandie never thought about more than one thing at a time. The midnight eyes appraised him with a hint of amusement. “Ylo! Morning! I almost didn’t recognize you without your wolfskin.”
    “Nor 1, sir. The back of my neck feels very chilly.”
    “It will feel worse, I’m afraid. I’ve appointed you high admiral for the next half hour. The helmsman needs a break. “
    “Aye, sir,” Ylo said in a growly Nordland accent. Resignedly he headed for the door. When he glanced back, Shandie was