Authors: Jane Fletcher
Alana sighed, picked up the egg basket, and headed to the chicken coop. She did not know whether she still loved Reyna, but she missed her. The loss was all the worse since there was no likelihood of finding anyone else. The company of the cow and the chickens was all she had, and all she was ever likely to have.
Perhaps I could get a dog…a puppy.
The wonderful thing about animals was the lack of ambiguity in their emotions. Alana could tell what they were feeling, with no risk that she might confuse their reactions for her own. It was only after Reyna had gone that Alana realized the silence at night did not make her anxious. The fear had been purely Reyna’s.
Once let out of the coop, the chickens scratched the ground with a simple chickenish satisfaction and hopefulness that Alana could observe without internalizing. She smiled as she collected the eggs. She was pleased that they were content, but was not unduly swayed by them. At that moment, though, she caught another blossoming of emotion, getting stronger. This one sparked a reaction inside her, expectation compounded by other unsettling sensations. Somebody was coming—somebody definitely human. She knew it before she heard the horse’s hooves. Alana raised what pathetic shielding she could and backed out from the coop.
Jed, her neighbor’s eldest son, rode up on a cart horse. He smiled when he saw her. “Good. You’re up.”
“Of course. It’s morning.”
“Do you think you could call by the farm? One of the calves is sick.”
“Any idea what it is?”
“Ma reckons it’s a touch of lungworm.”
Alana nodded. Eldora was an experienced farmer who knew what she was doing and was probably correct in the diagnosis. “Hold on while I get what I need.”
“You can come now?” Jed’s happiness shot up another few notches. “I’ll give you a ride down.”
Alana did not need her talent to know the reason why Jed was so pleased at the thought of her being on the horse with him. A blind woman could have worked his intentions out from his tone.
Maybe it would be wiser to walk.
Yet Jed was a decent, trustworthy young man, and it was not as if he could try anything with her sitting behind him. Alana accepted his hand up, and then realized her mistake. The problem was, of course, not whether Jed would try to make a move, but whether she would, and while she could say no to him, he was unlikely to give her the same answer. As soon as her arm went around his waist, the surge of sexual arousal hit her like a sledgehammer. The temptation to explore his body was so strong, it would have been overwhelming, were it not that Alana was quite certain the emotion was not her own. Jed was very definitely not her type—for starters, he was male—but that did not save Alana from being flooded by his desire.
Fantastic. Now I’ve got to deal with the double assault of his attraction to me combined with my own frustration after a year on my own.
“Are you all right there? Settled?”
“Yes. Sure.” Alana spoke through gritted teeth.
“You can hold on with both hands.”
“Right, Jed. Thanks.”
Humans were so much more difficult to deal with than animals. Thankfully, the ride would be short, although bouncing around on the saddle was not going to help. To distract herself, Alana searched her surroundings, looking for anything of note that she could concentrate on, anything to blunt the edge of her sexual craving.
There’s never a dance troupe around when you want one.
In fact, there was no one in sight at all, except down in the valley below, a lone rider traveling the road into Neupor.
*
Neupor was obviously where they sent buildings deemed too decrepit to be allowed to stay in Oakan. Deryn eyed the riverside hamlet with a mixture of disbelief and horror. This was where she had to spend the next five months! The place offered neither the raw beauty of the wilderness, nor the comfort and amenities of civilization.
The collection of crude huts was too small to count as a village. A dozen hovels had been dropped haphazardly around a central patch of trampled mud. Deryn identified a smithy and a stable, but no tavern. At the outskirts were a number of smaller constructions that were presumably pigsties or hen coops, although from what Deryn could see, they did not offer significantly worse living conditions than the huts. An empty dock jutted into the river, with a small warehouse nearby. Nothing looked like barracks, which might be a good thing. The farmsteads along the road had been far more inviting. Maybe she would be billeted on one of them.
Deryn did not need to hunt out somebody to ask directions. Neupor was the sort of place where newcomers got noticed. Even before she had reined Tia to a halt, one of the villagers was homing in.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for the marshal’s station, and someone called Sergeant Nevin.”
“Oh. Him.” Judging by the woman’s expression, Nevin was not one of her favorite people.
“Yes. My name’s Deryn. I’m an Iron Wolf, but going to be working with the marshal’s men this winter.” Deryn hoped she was talking to the local busybody and gossip. With luck, if she introduced herself now, she would not need to do it again for the duration of her stay in the area.
“My name’s Regan. Welcome to Neupor. I’m the elected town mayor.”
Counting the votes could not have taken long. “Thanks.”
“You need to go there. That’s the station.” Regan pointed out one of the hovels.
“Right.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“And you.”
Deryn tipped her hat and urged Tia to amble the last few yards. The marshal’s station was about thirty foot square, with log walls and an unkempt thatch where weeds and mildew grew unchecked. The door was ajar. The state of its hinges was such Deryn thought there stood little chance of it closing properly, which did not bode well for winter. In fact, now she studied the building, its state of repair was such that it achieved the almost impossible feat of lowering the tone of the neighborhood. The two nearby pigsties were in much better condition. Deryn chewed her lip. Would the pigs mind if she moved in with them instead?
Deryn jumped down from Tia and approached the door. Despite the fact that dawn was an hour past, the unmistakable rasp of snoring came from inside. The hinges seemed to be supporting the door mainly out of habit. Would they snap if she knocked hard enough to wake a heavy sleeper? Deciding not to risk it, Deryn rapped on the frame with the hilt of her dagger.
The snore turned into a gurgled cough. “What is it?”
“I’m here to talk with Sergeant Nevin.”
“Why?”
“I’m reporting for duty.”
“What?”
Deryn closed her eyes. The day was not getting any better. “I’ve volunteered to be a member of the garrison here for the winter. I need to report to Sergeant Nevin.”
The thump of someone falling out of bed was followed by shambling footsteps. The door was wrenched open. “They’ve sent me a girl?”
“An Iron Wolf.”
“Shit.”
And I love you too.
“Is that a problem?”
“Aw, what the hell.” He scowled at her. “I’m Sergeant Nevin.”
Deryn had feared as much.
Sergeant Nevin was in his mid forties. He was wearing a loose shirt, heavily stained, that hung to his mid thigh and did nothing to disguise his bulging waistline. Both of his chins were covered with a two-day growth of stubble. His eyes were watery and bloodshot. Added to the way he was squinting in the light, Deryn suspected he was nursing a hangover. On the positive side, this meant alcohol was available in Neupor. Deryn had the feeling she was going to need a drink before the day was done.
“Nobody told me you were coming.”
“It wasn’t arranged in advance. I needed a job. Marshal Palemon saw a chance to fill in the post here. I’ve got a letter from him in my pack.”
“What you doing, turning up so early in the day?”
And waking you up?
“I’d planned on getting here last night, but the storm blew in. So I took shelter at a farm a few miles outside town.”
“Yeah? Well, I don’t want you going AWOL every time there’s a few specks of rain. It’s not a damned holiday camp.”
“You didn’t know I was coming, so you weren’t waiting for me. And since I’d have got here too late to do anything useful, I thought it wasn’t worth getting drenched.”
“You thought? You don’t get paid to think. In the future, you leave it to me to make those sort of decisions.” Nevin stepped back and kicked at the bottom of the door to open it wider. “You better come inside.”
The station consisted of a single room. A fireplace was in the middle of the wall facing the door, with a double bunk bed on either side. A warped table stood in front of the hearth. One small corner of the room was cordoned off by wooden bars and a gate. Presumably this was for holding prisoners who were not bothered about escaping. Deryn doubted the cell would hold any able-bodied person possessing an ounce of determination. But who knew—maybe Neupor was plagued by lawless gangs of great-grandmothers.
The military precision personified by Sergeant Nevin was also apparent in the room. Cast-off clothes littered the floor. The table was covered in the remains of at least three meals, as well as other, less readily identifiable garbage. Swords hung from pegs by the door. Even in the poor light, Deryn could see that the leather was cracked and the metal was pockmarked with rust. The hearth had not been swept for days and soot spilled out across the floor. It looked as if someone had been rolling in it—possibly Sergeant Nevin, judging by the state of his shirt.
Another man was sitting on the side of one of the beds. He was younger and less overweight than his colleague. Unfortunately, he also looked denser. His face was frozen in bland incomprehension.
Nevin nodded in his direction. “That’s Ross.”
“Hi, Ross.”
“Uh?”
“This is”—Nevin looked at her—“What’s your name?”
“Deryn.”
“Right, Ross. This is Deryn.”
“Uh?”
“She’s going to be joining us for the winter.”
“Uh?”
Deryn managed to keep from burying her face in her hands, but it was not easy. It answered one question that had been bugging her—what sort of warrior would chose to be permanently stationed in Neupor? Nevin doubtless owed his rank to being the first one from the pair who could work out an answer to the question, “Do you want to be sergeant?”
“I’m going to take my horse to the stable.” Deryn needed a break to gather herself.
Nevin planted his fists on his hips, pulling his shirt tight enough to reveal the full extent of his flabby stomach. “When I tell you to.”
“What?”
“And you’re supposed to say, ‘yes sir,’ not ‘what.’ Get it?”
“Yes…sir.”
“We belong to the King’s Marshals. We’re professional soldiers, not rabble for hire. While you’re here, you’ll live up to our standards.”
Does that include letting rust grow on my sword?
Deryn did not dare look around the room, in case her incredulity got the better of her. Nevin would not last three days in the Iron Wolves. He probably would not last much longer in the marshals either, if there was anyone else at all who wanted his job.
Nevin jerked his thumb to one side. “That’s your bunk there. On the bottom. Don’t expect any special treatment because you’re female.”
As if there was the faintest possibility of anyone getting special treatment on the Misery Trail. You earned your place in the team, or you died. “No, sir.”
“There’s a box under the bed. You can put your things in it.”
You mean I can’t leave it all lying around on the floor with your stuff?
“When you’ve finished. Ross will show you around town.”
That should take at least thirty seconds.
“Then he’ll take you out and give you a feel for the area. I don’t want you claiming you don’t know where places are.”
While you go back to sleep.
“You do what he says.”
You mean he can speak?
Yet maybe Ross was not completely brain-dead after all. An expression of contempt slowly inched onto his face, directed at Nevin’s back. Ross could recognize a lazy, useless, arrogant asshole when he saw one, although it was not a hard call. Presumably, Ross had also been given plenty of time to make his mind up about his superior.
The prospects for the winter were looking bleaker by the minute. Just about the only entertainment on offer was going to be working out, in precise and graphic detail, exactly what she was going to do to Abran if she ever met him again.
*
The calf was going to be fine. The infestation would possibly clear up on its own, but the herbal supplement in its food would speed things along. The animal was mainly surprised by the cough, and not suffering any distress, as long as it could see its mother. Alana patted the calf’s flank and stood.
The farmer, Eldora, was perched on a fence, watching from a suitable distance. Alana had shooed everyone else away, including the ever-optimistic Jed. Her reputation for not tolerating company while she worked was well known. However, a preference for solitude was so common among the isolated homesteads that it did not even count as an unusual quirk.