Dirty Work, Part 8 of 9

DIRTY WORK

8. 

Some minutes passed, with no more apparent activity at the door. Gustaf released his breath in a gasp. “Quiet!” Portia whispered.

“Easy for you to say,” the donkey muttered, gesturing at the door with his hatchet. “You do this all the time.”

“Not quite.” She spoke in a low tone, barely above a whisper.

Gustaf responded at a similar volume. “Well, they seem to have given up, right? Maybe something scared them off?”

“I hope not,” Portia said. “If they don’t fall for it the first time, it may not work at all.”

More time passed, with no further sounds from the door. Gustaf knelt and wiped his brow. “It’s hot in here. Are you hot? I’m sweating like a... like a hot, sweaty thing.”

Portia choked back a laugh. “No, but I’m also not the one wrapped up in blankets.” She sat back on her haunches. “Maybe they did give up,” she said. “When Yerzle and Dozer get here, we can ask what happened.”

There was a sharp rap at the door. “Or,” she said, “maybe not.” Another rap, harder this time, followed by a scraping sound. They climbed back into crouching positions behind the millstone.

“What are they doing?”

There was a series of metal-on-metal taps, then the creaking of splitting wood. Something heavy fell to the ground just outside the door. “Taking the door hinges apart, I think,” Gustaf said. “They’re putting more into this than I thought.”

“They’re desperate,” Portia said as there was another soft thud.

Then the door was open and they could see two silhouettes framed in the doorway, one tall and lean, the other shorter and broader. The tall one had the slender horns of a goat, and the other had obvious rabbit ears. “That’s Szera’s cousin Roz,” Gustaf whispered. “The other one is Vhin.”

Roz and Vhin rushed in to the mill, then stopped just in front of the millstone. “I can’t believe they finally found out why the royals want our dirt!” Vhin said. He carried a hammer and chisel. “If it’s worth that much, we can set ourselves for life with just a few sacks!”

“We gotta get it out, first,” Roz replied. He carried a club, and pointed with it towards the door to the addition. “That’s where they’re keeping it,” he said. The bandits moved across the mill to the new door and examined it.

Portia felt Gustaf lean in close to her, and his muzzle brushed up against her ear. “There’s only two of them,” he whispered. “What about the others?” She gave only the barest of shrugs and slightest shake of her head in reply.

“This door isn’t near as thick as the front,” Roz said.

Vhin let out a bleating laugh. “They never figured we’d make it in, so why put much into it? Stand back!” He backed up, drawing perilously close to where Gustaf and Portia hid.

“What’re you gonna do?” Roz asked. “Bust it down?”

“You bet!” The goat lowered into a crouch and lunged forward, aiming his head and the thickest part of his skull at the door handle. He collided with the door to the sound of splintering wood, but the door held. Vhin bleated in pain.

“Shut up!”

“I hit the latch!” Vhin whined. “I think I’m bleeding!”

“I said shut up! We’re making enough noise already! You’re going to have to do it again.”

“But I’m hurt!”

“And if we’re caught, you’re going to be more hurt! We need to get going fast, before anyone notices what’s going on!”

Vhin backed up again, and Portia tapped Gustaf on the back of the neck. “Get ready,” she whispered. The donkey nodded in acknowledgement.

Vhin took another run at the door, bursting the latch and stumbling into the new room. Roz scrambled to follow. “It’s too dark in here!” the rabbit exclaimed.

Portia nudged Gustaf, but before either of them could move, a new group appeared at the front door of the mill. In the lead was the unmistakable hunchbacked form of Rendtooth. “Vhin! Roz! You miserable double-crossing backstabbers! What do you think you’re doing?”

Portia tugged on Gustaf’s sleeve. “Let’s let this play out a bit,” she whispered.

Four other bandits entered the mill. Rendtooth definitely carried a short blade, about as long as his forearm, but Portia couldn’t tell how the others were armed. “You two are going to blow this for the rest of us!” the hyena shouted. “Did you think we’d just let you wander off? Get your tails out here!”

“Make us!” Roz called back from inside the addition.

“Fine,” growled Rendtooth. “But you’ll both regret it.” He gestured with his free hand. “Colin, Magnus, take Vhin. Rikk, we’ll take Roz.” The four entered the mill and blocked the door to the addition.

Portia grabbed Gustaf’s sleeve and pulled him to her right. “Go around the other side,” she told him. “When they all enter the other room, go get the others!”

“What? You’re going to hold them all?”

“I took out Rendtooth once, I should be able to do it again,” she said. “And it will be easier once they’re all in there.”

“All right,” Gustaf said reluctantly.

“Trust me.” With a shrug, the donkey worked his way around the millstone until he was close to the open front door of the mill while Portia circled in the other direction.

“I’ll give you one last chance,” Rendtooth said to Vhin and Roz, but received only a spray of raspberries in reply. “Right. Go!” The four bandits lunged into the other room.

“Go!” Portia echoed, and sprinted for the open interior doorway. Gustaf ran from the mill and out into the street. By the time she reached the addition, a full-scale brawl was in progress. Growls, curses, yelps, bleats, and the sound of fisticuffs issued from the dark. She took a position blocking the doorway, and decided to let them fight it out.

In short order, the fight stopped. One of the bandits caught her naked sword reflecting what little light was filtering into the mill, and let out a surprised yelp, followed by a pained grunt as someone (Portia thought it was Rendtooth) punched him in the gut. That yelp was enough to get the others to look up, though. “Hey!” Vhin bleated. “Who’re you?”

Six sets of eyes fixed on her. “I know you,” Rendtooth said. “You’re that witch from outside Pervis Gap. You’re traveling with the others, are you?” She heard him scramble around in the addition. “Where’s my knife?” he called out, then cackled triumphantly. He approached the doorway, blade in hand.

Portia gestured with her own sword. “Sit back down, bub.”

“What’re you going to do? You caught me by surprise back in the forest, but I was also alone. There’s six of us, now. Do you think you can handle all of us?” The other bandits rose and joined their leader.

Portia laughed at him, and Rendtooth and his minions were all taken aback at the ferocity and lack of concern it conveyed. “I can do all that and more,” she said, and took a defensive position in the doorway. “Would you care to learn what the Fencing Master taught me?”

Rendtooth growled deep in his throat, crouched, and leapt.

~~~ 

When Gustaf led Yerzle, Dozer, Szera, Sashi, and several other villagers into the mill, lighting the way with a lantern, Portia was leaning against the jamb of the addition’s doorway, arms crossed nonchalantly. Rendtooth’s knife was stuck into the wall behind her. “It’s about time,” she said.

“What happened?” Gustaf asked. He thrust the lantern into the addition and found the six bandits huddled together in a far corner of the room. None of them appeared seriously injured although Vhin held his left arm awkwardly and one of the other bandits, a young horse, appeared to have a few fingers that pointed in the wrong direction. Rendtooth himself was rubbing his jaw. The donkey turned back to Portia, who shrugged.

“I passed some of what the Fencing Master taught me on to them,” she said. “And one of those lessons was that it can be much more painful to be disarmed than to simply be run through.” A low moan issued from the bandits, and was quickly shushed. “For instance, getting your fingers dislocated hurts. A lot. Isn’t that right, Magnus?”

“I guess,” the horse mumbled.

“I’m sorry,” Portia said sharply, “I didn’t quite catch that. What did you say?”

“I, uh, said you’re right,” Magnus stammered. “Ma’am.”

“That’s better. Rendtooth would agree, but I’m pretty sure I broke his jaw.” The hyena let out a sound that was halfway between a growl and a moan.

“That’s amazing!” Szera said, awestruck. She looked at Portia with a mixture of respect and fear.

“Actually, it’s mostly leverage,” Portia replied. “So, now what?”

“I’ve got chains in the smithy,” Szera said. “That will hold them for a while.”

“We’ll send for the magistrate in the morning,” Gustaf added. “That will take a few days, since he lives in Barril, about halfway to Farien.”

“In the meantime,” said one of the other villagers, an older donkey with features similar to Gustaf’s, “we’ll put them to work on the harvest.”

“Good idea, Uncle Ivor,” Gustaf said. “Maybe we can make up some lost time.”

“You gotta tell us,” Roz said from the huddle. “What makes the dirt so valuable? Why do they want it in Farien?” “Beats us,” Szera said. “But that was a good story, right? It pulled you all in, after all.”