By the Sword (66 page)

He froze for a moment in mid-gesture, then slowly toppled from his mount, which turned—of all unlikely things—into a milch-cow. An exhausted, gaunt cow, that wandered two or three steps, then fell over on its side, unable to rise again.

The humming stopped, and Kero was not about to wait around to see if her action stopped the pursuit. She turned Hellsbane in a pivot on her two rear hooves, and continued her flight, giving the mare her head until the warsteed caught up with the rest of the troops. She didn't look back.
If there's anything more back there, I don't want to know about it.

Hellsbane was no longer running easily; sweat foamed on her neck, and Kero felt her sides heave under her legs. Finally the laboring of their horses forced them to slow— and this time, when they slowed to a walk and looked back, there was no one in sight. The horses drooped, gasping great gulps of air, coats sodden with sweat. She felt guilty for having had to push them so much.

And she was profoundly grateful that she wasn't going to have to push them any more. It looked as if Ancar didn't have any more mages to spare.

The Herald gave her a peculiar look when she took Hellsbane in beside him, but he didn't say anything. She wondered how much of the exchange with the mage he had seen, then decided that it really didn't matter. “I don't see any reason to alter the plan yet,” she told him. “Tell Selenay to bring up her light cavalry behind us—I don't think we'll be seeing any more action today, but I didn't think they'd follow us over that first ridge, either. We need a rear guard, at least for the moment.”

He nodded, and went off into his little trance, and his Companion gave her one of those blue-eyed stares that Eldan's Companion Ratha had sometimes fixed her with. She nudged the mare with her heel, and moved Hellsbane ahead of them, suddenly uneasy with the penetrating intelligence behind those eyes. She had the feeling that even if the Herald had missed the mage's attack and defeat, his Companion hadn't.

It was a most unnerving feeling, and she began to have an idea how Quenten and the others had felt, before they'd quit Valdemar and headed home.

It felt as if she was being weighed and tested against some unknown standard. And what was more, she didn't like it.

Finally she couldn't take any more of it. She dropped Hellsbane back, and deliberately made eye contact with the Companion. His Herald was still off in the clouds somewhere, communing with his brethren, which left the field safe for what she intended to do—

Which was to drop shields, and think directly at the creature,
Look, I don't tell you how to do your job. I'm doing what I pledged Selenay I'd do, and what's more, I'm doing a damned good piece of work so far. You keep your prejudices to yourself and stay the hell out of my way and my head so I can
keep
doing it!:

The Companion started and jerked his head up, his eyes wide, as if she'd stung him with a pebble in the hindquarters. She slammed her shields shut again, and sent Hellsbane into a tired canter that took her to the front of the troop.

And when next she looked back, the Companion met her gaze with a wary respect—and nothing more.

She couldn't help herself; she wore a smug little smile all the way back to the camp.
“Don't make judgment calls; you might find yourself on the other end of one. ” That's another one of Tarma's sayings. And right now, I'm as guilty of it as that Companion is.

 

Camp was a cold camp; no fires, and trail rations. Tents stayed packed up; until they figured out the pattern Ancar's troops had, Kero wasn't going to give him any vulnerable points to hit—like a camp. Even with experienced fighters like hers, “camp” meant “safe” in the back of their minds, and right now she didn't want anyone thinking “safe.”

They'd bivouacked in a grove of hezelnut bushes, tucking bedrolls out of sight under the bushes themselves, helping out nature's own camouflage with artfully placed branches. From a distance, no one would ever guess there was an entire Company of fighters and their horses in here; it looked like any deserted orchard. What with the three rings of perimeter guards, no one would get close enough to find out any differently.

And that tentlessness included Kero. It was good for morale—and it made her less of a target. She did have one of the better bushes, a clump of them, actually, with thick, drooping branches, but room on the inside for three or four; and she had it alone—but there were a few advantages to being Captain.

The Herald vanished after they'd tucked themselves up, established perimeters and set watches, and sent the specialists off to make Ancar's life interesting. She settled down on her bedroll with a piece of jerky in one hand and a tiny, shielded dark-lantern focused on the detailed map spread over her knees. At some point during her study her orderly brought her a battered tin cup full of water, and said—rather too calmly—that the Herald who'd been with her this morning was being replaced.

She looked up, sharply, and saw the comers of his mouth twitching. “Ah,” she said, and left it at that.

She fell asleep with a clear conscience, and a resolve not to let the replacement get on her officers' nerves as the first Herald had.

In the morning, as soon as she'd gotten the reports from her scouts, she gathered her officers together inside the heart of the grove, to lay out her next plan of action. While she gave each Lieutenant his orders, she caught sight of something white moving up, just out of the corner of her eye.

So our first liaison couldn't handle the job. A little late, my friend,
she thought to herself,
and I hope you're a bit more flexible than your predecessor.
But she otherwise ignored him until she'd finished briefing her officers. Only then did she turn to see who—or what—Selenay had sent to her this time.

And felt as if someone had just poleaxed her.

“Oh,” she said, faintly.

“I‘m—uh—the replacement,” Eldan said with hesitation, playing with the ends of his Companion's reins. “Selenay thought you'd be less likely to frighten us off. At least, on purpose.”

“I wouldn't count on that if I were her,” Kero replied, around a funny feeling in her chest, still staring at him. He looked wonderful; he hadn't aged to speak of, her dream Eldan become substantial. “You've never ridden with my troops. We're a nasty lot, and what we meet up with tends to be just as vicious as we are.”

“That wasn't what she meant. ” Eldan dropped his eyes before she did, which gave her a chance to give him a quick once-over before he looked up again. He hadn't changed much, either; maybe the white streaks in his hair were a little wider, and there were a couple of smile-lines around his mouth and eyes, but otherwise he was the same. She wondered how she looked to him. “It doesn't have to be me. If you don't want—I mean—”

“I
don‘t, ”
she interrupted him fiercely, fairly sure what he was going to say, and not wanting to hear it. “I can't afford a liability, not here, not now. I can't permit you to distract me from my people. If you can do your job and leave it at that,
fine.
Otherwise, find me someone else. And make sure it's someone with guts and a sense of humor this time. We're perilous short of both.”

“I'd noticed,” Eldan muttered with a flash of resentment and irritation, not quite under his breath.

“You—you
what?”
She stared at him for a moment, torn between wanting to laugh, and wanting to rip his face off for that.

Laughter won.

She leaned up against Hellsbane's saddle, then shook with silent laughter, until her knees were weak and tears ran down her face. Eldan just stood there, looking a little puzzled, but otherwise keeping his mouth shut.

“Oh, gods,” she said, or rather, gasped. “Oh, dear gods. I had that coming.” She pushed away from the mare, and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

“You certainly did,” Eldan said agreeably. Then he widened his eyes, and his tone grew wheedling. “Come on, Kero, you need me along just to keep you humble.”

“I do
not, ”
she retorted, stung. “And I don't need you pulling any ‘mama, may I' acts on me. But as long as you're here, you might as well tag along anyway.” She was tempted to jump into the saddle without using the stirrups—

:I wouldn't leap into the saddle like a young hero if I were you,:
said the familiar voice in her head.
:I'd
have
to match you, and I'm too old and tired for that. :

:Sure you are.:
She'd answered him the same way without realizing it until she'd done so. For the first time in her life, Mindspeech felt as natural as audible speech. Even with Warrl it had been an effort, and seemed wrong, like trying to walk on her hands and eat with her feet.

She should have been alarmed by that; she should have been unhappy to be reminded that she had the Gift. The youngster training with Tarma would have been ready to gut him. The Kero of ten years ago would have ordered him out of her Company. But now—all that fuss seemed pretty stupid, and awfully paranoid. It was an ability, like her perfect pitch—and a lot more useful. Now talking by Mindspeech felt as if she'd been doing it for years.
:Besides, it's about time you found out what military discipline is like. It'll do you good. And while we're in the field, it's
Captain.
Not Kero, not Captain Kero.
Captain.
Got that?:

He nodded, swinging up into his Companion's saddle.
:Sorry, Captain. And I think I understand. This is a military command, and you need a different kind of attitude from everybody connected with your troops, right? Otherwise discipline breaks down. Heralds do things differently; we encourage familiarity, but we almost never get it.:

:Heralds don't have to command a few hundred hot-blooded, hard-headed fighters, each of whom is at some time or other convinced he could Captain the Company better than you.:
She sent Hellsbane out through the bushes to the field on the other side where the Skybolts were mustering. Eldan kept right at her side, as if they'd been doing this together for years.

Since that was exactly what she'd been confiding in the dream-Eldan in the last dream she'd had about him, she was understandably startled.

She reined Hellsbane in so fast that the horse reared a little, snorting, as she whipped around in the saddle to face him.
“How did you know that?”
she blurted, flushing and chilling in turn. “I haven't said anything to anyone about that—”

:Except in dreams.:
He had gone a little pale, himself.
:But they weren't dreams, were they?:

Hellsbane reacted to her unconscious signals, and backed up, one slow step at a time. “I thought they were,” she said, and her voice shook. “I thought you were. I thought I was going crazy. I thought it didn't matter. If I hadn‘t, I'd never have said—done—half of what I did—”

“Why not?” he demanded, his Companion Ratha matching Hellsbane's every step. The mare flattened her ears and snapped; the Companion ignored her. “Weren't we friends, at least? I thought we were. Oh, I admit it, that was a dirty trick I played on you with the ransom, but I had no idea how desperate your situation was, I thought your Company and Captain were pretty much intact. If I'd known, I'd have had Selenay send you double, with no strings attached, and not because I felt sorry for you, no, but because we were—
are
—friends, and friends help each other. But after that—the dreams—I thought I'd made amends. I needed to talk with you, needed to be with you. I couldn't let you just walk out of my life like that. Kero—1—1 love you. I'll take anything I can get with you.”

She forced herself to think rationally—after all, this wasn't much different from the way he was Mindspeaking her now—and slowly relaxed. “I got you back with the ransom,” she reminded him, as she loosed her hands on the reins, and Hellsbane stopped backing.

He grinned at that, and nodded.
: You certainly did, and cleverly, too. And I wish you'd been there to see the old goat they sent as the Guild proxy. He just gave me one look, and made me feel like a small boy who's been caught trying to look up little girls' dresses. :

She chuckled at the image he sent her; it was a Guild representative she barely recognized, but knew by reputation, which was formidable.

:But that's not the point,:
he
continued. :The reason I kept coming to you is
that
I'm your friend before
I'm
anything else, Kero. Friends help each other; friends bring their troubles to each other, especially if they can't take them anywhere else. And I confided a good share in you, didn't I?: