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like today put me in mind of times when there wasn't no coming back. Talking
about fish, what do you think of us putting a dam across the creek up where
those high banks are?"
"Why?" She was too worried about Rolf to care.
"Well, like I told Bevold the other day, so we'd have water in a dry spell."
"There was water last summer. The springs kept running."
"Yeah, well." He dragged the poles over. "What I was thinking about was
stocking some fish. How the hell are we going to finish this thing?"
"Go catch his horse, stupid!" His poking about was frustrating. "He must've
had blankets. And hurry."
He ran off. And she was immediately sorry she had snapped at him. It was
obvious his leg was giving him a lot of pain. He had claimed the wound was
just a scratch. He didn't like to cause concern.
"I've decided," he said when he returned.
"What? Decided what?"
"I'm going to raise some hell about this. I mean, when we took the grant we
said we'd do some fighting. In defense of law and order." He sneered his
opinion of the phrase. "But not to fight wars on our own. We kept up our end.
I didn't even cry about not getting any help the last time raiders came over
from Prost Kamenets, even if the army should've been here. But by damn, having
to fight El Murid's regulars in my wheat field, a hundred miles north of
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Itaskia, is too much. I got to go down about the timber contract anyway, and
pick up some things, so I'll just go early and burn some ears. If them asses
at the War Ministry can't keep this from happening, they're going to tell me
why. In fact, I'm going to the Minister himself. He owes me. Maybe he can
shake some people awake."
"Now, dear, don't do something you'll be sorry for." His friendship with the
War Minister was pretty insubstantial, based as it was on a few secret,
illegal favors done the man years ago. Men in such positions were notoriously
short of memory.
"I don't care. If a citizen can't be safe at home, then why the hell pay
taxes?"
"If you don't, you'll get troops up here quick, all right," she replied. They
rigged the litter between their horses, hoisted Preshka in.
"Well, I'm going down. Tomorrow."
FOUR: The Narrowing Way
i) Return of the Disciple
Ragnarson did not leave for Itaskia next morning.
He woke to find the household in an uproar.
All his people had spent the night at the greathouse, vainly awaiting Mocker.
He assumed Nepanthe, unwill-ing to let her husband out of sight, would come
along and could be put to doctoring.
He went to see what was the matter.
Luck rode with him in a small, left-handed way. Bevold Lif, despite his bashed
head, had risen early to go to the mill. He had started out afoot and had
quickly returned. El Murid's men were back, waiting for dawn.
Ragnarson quietly tried to get the animals back into the cellars, the building
doused down, and weapons readied. If they had the confidence to return, the
raiders had picked up reinforcements.
As false dawn lightened the land, he counted their horses. There were nearly
thirty surrounding the house, at a distance demonstrating their respect for
the Itaskian bow.
"You think they'll attack?" Bevold asked.
"I wouldn't," Ragnarson replied. "But there's nofiguring those people. They're
crazy. That's why they did so well in the wars. That and being able to field
every grown man. Iwa Skolovda and Prost Kamenets have the same problem on
their Shara borders. Nomads don't have to stay home to get the crops in. And
they don't use much equipment a man can't make himself, so their cavalry
doesn't need a broad peasant base..."
"That'll reassure everybody," Elana said sarcastically. Bragi, as he aged, had
developed a tendency to lecture. "Uthe and Dahl are in the tower. U the said
to tell you they have a 'shaghun.'"
"Uhn," he grunted. "That's not good."
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"Why not?"
"A shaghun's a sort of priest-knight. They're a fighting order like the
Guild's Knights Protectors. One with a group this small is unusual."
"So?"
"They're sorcerers too. Not big-time, but they've got some magic."
"But I thought El Murid killed all the magicians..."
"Sure!" Ragnarson interrupted, sneering. "All that didn't get religion. You
ever hear of a priest who wouldn't make a deal with his devil to get what he
wanted? El Murid's no different. He's a politician first, same as all of them.
He just started out with ideals. After reality kicked his ass a few times, he
started compromising. The shaghun system worked for the Royalists-Haroun is
supposed to be one, but he didn't get much training before he had to run-so
why not for him?"
Bragi was a cynic who disapproved of any organization structured for purposes
other than warfare. His opinions of governments were as severe as those
regarding priesthoods.
"What can we do?" Elana asked.
"About what?"
"About this hedge-wizard, you lummox!" Mornings they both could be bears.
"Oh. I'll have to kill him. Or give up and see what he wants. How's Rolf?"
"Still in a coma. I don't think he'll come out."
"Grim. Where's Mocker? And where's that shaghun? If
I'm going to get him, I got to know where." He sent someone to get Uthe from
the tower.
Elana started to ask why he had to do it. She knew. It was his way. The more
dangerous the task, the less likely he was to delegate it.
"Let's go to the study," Bragi said. He had a room of his own off the main
hall where, supposedly, he attended to business. It was more a museum filled
with mementos, and a library. "I hope he stays alive long enough to tell me
why I've got El Murid's horses trampling my wheat."
"I'd like to see him live a little longer than that." She revealed too much
emotion. Bragi frowned puzzledly, was about to ask something when Uthe
arrived.
The men went to four maps hung on a wall. One was of the west, political;
another of the Itaskian Kingdom; a third was of the landgrant with inked
notations about resources and special features. The last was of the area
around the house, with large blank borders where the forest still stood. It
was to this that Bragi and Uthe went. Haas pointed out the location of the
shaghun, then of nearby horsemen. Bragi traced an approach route with one
heavy forefinger.
"Did you see his colors?" Ragnarson asked. "Did you recognize them?"
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"Yes. No."
"Guess we couldn't tell much anyway. Bound to have been a big turnover. Most
of them died before El Murid gave up and went home. Well, I don't know what
else I can do. Wish I'd known he was out there when it was still dark."
He grabbed Elana, kissed her swift and hard. "Uthe, if it don't work, you take
over. Wait for Mocker. He's bound to come-though how much good he'll be I
don't know." He kissed Elana again.
ii) His regiment arrives
The ground was cold. His leg ached. The dew on the grasshad soaked through his
trousers and jerkin. A breeze from the south did nothing to make him more
comfortable. His hands were chilled, shaking. He hoped they wouldn't ruin his
aim. There was little chance he would get a second shot. The shaghun would
have a protective spell ready for instant use.
A hundred yards more, at least, before he dared a shot. And they the hardest
since he had slipped out the tunnel from the cellars. There was no cover but a
fencerow.
Where was Mocker? he wondered.
The yards slowly passed under his belly. He expected an alarm at any moment,
or the cry of the shaghun ordering an attack.
It was light enough to storm the house. Why were they waiting?
From the end of the fence he would have to trust luck to cross five yards of
naked pasture to a ditch.
They would get him there for sure. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]