She smiled, at that, before a frown crossed her face. “You will be fighting, then? In danger?”
“Yes,” I said simply. “It is what I must do, Kira. I must respond to what the Marai have done, to you, to Mother, to everyone.” I put my hand on my belly again. “What would I tell her, if I did not?”
We talked, and cried, and talked again, into the afternoon. “I must go,” I told her finally. “I won't be able to come again. I will try to send word, after, if I can.”
She hugged me. “Can I be a healer for a moment, and not just your sister? What we have talked about today...you will dream, or react badly to unexpected things, because of it. We have each other, here, to help us through it, and understand why. Will you—will Cillian understand, and help you?”
“I tried to kill him once,” I said wryly, “because someone approached me from behind. He stepped between that man and me, and I went for him, with my knife. He understands. I told you, Kira, he helps keep the darkness at bay, and that darkness is not just from the rape.”
“He sounds remarkable. I wish I could meet him.”
“Maybe you will, someday. Will you go home, Kira, if we win back our land?”
“Maybe. I don't know. Will you?”
I shook my head. “I don't think so. I don't know where I'll—we'll—go, but I don't think it will be Tirvan.”
We held each other for one long, last minute. “You are the strong one, Kira,” I told her. “You're dealing with everything alone.”
“I'm not alone,” she said. “Not when so many women share my experience. Think of us when you fight, Lena.”
I would. The vengeance that had lay quiescent woke again, setting my jaw and clenching my fists as I walked back to the stables. My hands trembled. I took several deep breaths, trying to calm myself.
Finn and the soldiers were just saddling up when I arrived. He glanced at my face. “Bad news?” he asked quietly. I shook my head.
“Not really.” I saddled the gelding, retrieved my bow and quiver, and swung up into the saddle. We didn't talk until we were on the road leading back to the Eastern Fort.
“Did the unloading go well?” I asked.
“Yes. The food will be welcome. Who did you find, Lena?”
“A friend, and my sister. Thank you, Finn, for arranging for me to come.”
“Were they well?”
“Well enough,” I didn't want to talk about the truth, with Finn. We rode in silence. Insects buzzed in the heat. A few people worked in the fields, hoeing weeds. The soldiers behind us talked desultorily, occasionally laughing, relaxing after a day's work. We approached a belt of trees. Shade would be welcome, even for the few minutes it would take to pass through.
We were almost at the far side of the trees when shouts from the soldiers made us wheel our horses around. Six men, swords out, slashing at the horses. Dark haired, part of my mind noted. Not Marai. A horse screamed. Two down, their bellies ripped and bleeding. Two soldiers on foot, parrying blows with their short swords. “Dismount!” Finn shouted.
I pulled the gelding up, dropping the reins, reaching for my bow. I nocked the arrow, drew, waited. The horse stood, obedient. I let the arrow fly. It took the man in the back, driving deep through his leather tunic. He screamed, and fell. I had another arrow nocked, and another man fell to it a moment later. I could not get a clean line on the others, the fighting too close. Finn rode into the melee, his longer sword slashing down. One man broke and ran. I kneed my gelding into a canter, past the fighting, and my arrow took the runner high in the shoulder.
I turned the horse, looking back. It was over. The attackers were dead, or mortally wounded. Finn knelt by a downed horse, opening a vein in its neck. I rode over, dismounted. One of our soldiers lay on the ground, another beside him. His leg bled badly. Not bright red and pumping, though, I noted. I pulled my light tunic free of its belt, reaching beneath it to loosen the cloth band binding my breasts. I handed it to his friend, who wrapped it around the wound, competently and quickly.
Finn stood from beside the second horse. “Retrieve arrows and their weapons,” he told one of the soldiers. “Begin with that one,” he pointed to the man who had run, “and make sure he's dead. Can you ride?” he asked the man with the leg wound.
“Yes, Captain.”
“Who is least hurt?”
“Me, I think,” one of the soldiers said. “The lieutenant's arrow took care of the man I was fighting.”
“Take the best horse, and ride back to the fort at speed,” Finn told him. “Report the attack, and have them send carts for the dead horses.” We couldn't waste the meat, I realized.
The soldier sent to retrieve weapons returned. “He's dead,” he said. He pulled the other two arrows from the bodies, wiping the heads on his tunic before giving them to me. The smell of blood threatened to overwhelm me, suddenly. I swallowed, hard.
The worst-wounded man was helped up into the saddle of the largest horse, his friend behind him. The last man went up behind Finn. We began to ride, slowly, back towards the Eastern Fort.
“Lestians?” I asked Finn.
“Yes,” he said, grimly. “Deserters, most likely. They were probably scouting for the Marai. None have been reported for some weeks, though. I was complacent, I fear. We were lucky you were with us, with the bow.”
“It was a good test of the weapon,” I said. I had killed three men this afternoon, I thought. I saw the blood on the road again. I was going to vomit. “I need to relieve myself,” I said to Finn. “I'll catch up.” I did not want the soldiers to see my reaction.
He nodded, and rode ahead. I slid off my horse, falling onto my knees at the side of the road. I retched, violently, spasms shaking my body, tears coursing down my cheeks. I could still smell the blood.
I sat for a minute, wiping my lips. Standing, I took my waterskin from the saddle, rinsed my mouth, took a drink. When I was sure I wouldn't vomit again, I remounted, kicking the gelding into a trot to catch up with the men. I was still shaking, slightly, but I could master that.
“You'd better report to your captain,” Finn told me, as we rode into the fort. “Tell him I am taking full responsibility.” I took my gelding to the stables, unstrung and stored the bow, and washed my face before I went in search of the man. He listened, impassively.
“Your new bow proved useful,” was all he said. “An unexpected test in the field. I will speak further with Finn.” Dismissed, I thought about what to do. It was late afternoon. I would wait until tomorrow, to speak to Talyn and Dian. I felt soiled, sticky, as if I had been spattered by blood, even though my tunic was stained only by dust and sweat.
I went to our room. I'd found several doors that led into the corridors of the building, and I alternated using them as much as possible. This time, though, I took the most direct route. I closed the door, stripping off my clothes. I poured water into the bowl, and washed, breathing steadily, staying deliberate, and calm.
Then I dressed again, and went to the commons. Finn came in, a bit later. “Good thinking on that leg wound,” he told me. “The medics say he'll be fine. No one else had more than shallow cuts.” He signalled for beer. “I took a bit of a reprimand, but it was deserved.” The steward brought the beer. He took a deep draught. “You're good with that bow, Lena. I gave you full credit, in my report.”
I told him about the construction of the weapon, glad of the diversion, and how I'd learned to use it, in Casil. We ate bread and cheese, and after eating a dice game began. I played until a glance outside showed me the sun had set, and the first stars had appeared in the darkening sky. Cillian had said he would not stay to talk to the Emperor tonight: I had told him not to come home early. Which would he do? If I went back, and he wasn't there—I didn't want to be alone, right now. He wouldn't look for me, I knew. But nor could I go looking for him.
I stayed for another few throws. Then I walked back through the dusk. Cillian wasn't in our room. I paced, thinking. Are you going to expect me to tell you about eve
ry sword thrust or axe swing? I had asked him, after the attack in Casil. I had told my captain the bare details, and Finn and I had analyzed the fight, on the ride back. That wasn't what I needed Cillian for. I had shot those arrows with cold precision, with focused vengeance, for my sister and all those like her, for the horror she had described to me today. A response. Now I wanted my refuge from violence, arms around me, hands stroking my hair. A refuge denied to most, I told myself. Why should I be any different?
I was on the bed, curled in on myself, when he came in. It wasn't late. He looked at me, and swore. “What happened? Why didn't you send Birel for me?”
“It wasn't fair to,” I said. He sat on the bed beside me.
“Tell me.”
“I found Maya,” I said, “and my sister. Maya is fine. She hasn't changed.”
“And your sister?”
“She's alive. Fine, I suppose. She told me what happened. They killed all the older women. My mother is dead. Then they raped all the girls, and the younger women, and took them as—as slaves.” I began to cry. “Kira escaped,” I gasped. “But she's pregnant.”
He lay beside me, stroking my hair. “Käresta,” he murmured, making no move to touch me other than with his gentle, undemanding fingers. I shuddered.
“How can I let you comfort me?” I said. “Who comforts them?” I turned to let him hold me, to bury my face against his body, to be sheltered. For now. I wasn't strong enough to do anything else.
Much later, when the tears had run out, he left me for a few minutes, returning with wine. “I thought it was in short supply,” I said, trying to smile.
“It is. But you need it.” He handed me the cup. “Fuisce would be better, but Birel has gone to bed.”
I drank some of the wine. “Kira told me that knowing...hearing her tell me, would make me dream, or react. I will make sure my secca is nowhere near the bed.” A weak joke, I knew.
“Probably best,” Cillian said gravely.
“She said she would try to love the child,” I told him. “I keep thinking—what if Ivor—? I don't think I could want a child who came from violence.”
“It didn't happen, käresta,” he said. “You were saved that.”
“But what if I hadn't been?”
“The child would be innocent,” he said gently. “Perhaps that is what Kira has realized?”
Perhaps it was. He was right, of course, and he had his own reasons for knowing it. “Can you sleep now?” he asked.
“Maybe.”
I didn't think I would, but exhaustion defeated distress. I slept, dreamless, until dawn. Cillian was already awake, lying quietly beside me. “Lena,” he greeted me.
“Hello, my love.”
“How are you?”
I considered the question. The images had receded, just enough. “I am—better. I'll be all right.” Early mornings were our private time together. “But I don't think I can make love this morning.”
“I had assumed that,” he said. “You decide when, käresta.” He hadn't touched me, I realized. Letting me be in control. I put a hand on his chest.
“You could hold me, though.” I turned towards him, finding the spot on his shoulder where my head seemed to fit. I put an arm across him. He stroked my back, gently.
“There are other things that happened yesterday that I should tell you.” I said, after a while.
“Can I ask something, first?”
“Of course. What is it?” His voice had sounded just slightly uncertain.
“Maya. You said she hadn't changed. Lena, she has first claim on your heart. Do you want—”
I cut him off. “Cillian, how can you even ask me that? What claim she had is long over. When I said she hadn't changed, I meant she was still unhappy. She just wants everything to be as it was. You are foolish, sometimes, you know,” I added.
“Maybe I am, at that.” He kissed my hair. “What do you need to tell me?”
“We were attacked, on the way back.” I told him what had happened.
“Deserters,” he said, analytic now. “The Emperor will have been told, but we will need to think about them more closely. If they were scouting for the Marai, they will have seen at least the supply ship.”
“They are all dead. But when they don't return, the Marai will realize that, and send more scouts, so they will learn soon enough what support the East sent.”
“Which means we need to increase the patrols.”
“But, Cillian, if they were just scouts, why did they attack us?”
“I don't know,” he said thoughtfully. “I would have said they wanted the horses, to return to the Marai more rapidly with their news, but you said they killed the animals?”
“Only two. By forcing two soldiers to fight on foot, did they think the other two would dismount as well? They only had short swords, remember. Not all the deserters needed a horse, if the purpose was to get the news back to the Marai as quickly as possible. One or two would have done.”
“One man grabs a horse, while the others fight? Possibly.”
“Which means the mounted patrols are in more danger now, does it not? If the Marai scouts get close enough to see the encampment, or the ships, they will again want to return as quickly as possible.”
“And the patrols are mostly younger cadets, with one or two horseguards with them.” He swore. “It would mean reassigning men to that task. Even with long swords, the cadets cannot be expected to fight off Marai, and it is worse if the scouts are Lestian deserters. They have had training in our fighting techniques.”
This was, I reflected, a very odd conversation to be having, in the warmth of our bed. Odd, too, to be discussing warfare with Cillian, as equals, or nearly so.
“What has happened to the Lestian soldiers?” I asked. “Surely they could not be trusted? Most, if not all, were taken into the army unwilling.”
“Some swore fealty, a second time, and are still among the troops,” he said. “Some deserted, in the confusion of the early days. Those who would not swear were killed.”
“That was harsh.”
“Yes. But what choice was there? Men could not be spared to guard prisoners. My concern is that Callan accepted oaths after the first men who refused were killed. Those oaths were made under threat, and I wonder how much they can be trusted. But he says those men are scattered among the squadrons, purposefully, and are being watched, and that we need the numbers.” He stretched. “We should be getting up, I suppose. My concern about the Lestian oaths is between us only, käresta. Is there anything else I should know?”
“Yes,” I said, “reporting to a senior officer in bed is not usual army practice, Major. You are new to this, so you might be unsure on protocol.”
“I will neglect to tell the Emperor and his other advisors exactly where we had this conversation,” he said gravely.
“Good.” I raised my head to kiss him. “As officially I am not even here, it might be difficult to explain.”
As we dressed, Cillian turned to me suddenly. “Käresta, forgive me. I should have asked before. How were you, after the ambush? You killed three men.”
I shrugged. “The usual reaction. I don't seem to have much control over it. I hid it from the men,” I added. “Not good for morale, for them to see an officer vomiting after fighting.”
“True.”
“What are you doing today?” I asked. I didn't want to dwell on yesterday's attack.
“Working with the Casilani officers and ours on the words for basic commands, as usual. Then, tactics, possible deployments. Turlo is working on a detailed map of the land on either side of the Taiva, with help from various officers and men, and of the route Callan thinks the army should take.”
“Is Druisius proving useful?”
“Immensely. He's learning the language rapidly. He worries about Sorley, though.”
“So do I. I wish there was some way to know.”
“If, when we reach the Taiva, there is no Marai force waiting for us to the north, th
en he—they—will have done what they were sent to do. We are unlikely to know before. But I share the worry, Lena. For Sorley and for Ruar.”
We kissed, one last time, before I pinned my officer's insignia to my shoulder. We had agreed that while we wore our badges of rank each day, there would be no physical contact, even in the privacy of our room. A clear demarcation of private and public, although our conversation this morning had strayed over that line.
“I'll see you tonight,” I said. I closed the door quietly behind me, choosing a different route out of the building than I had used the day before. Were we fooling anyone? Probably not. But no rumours had reached my ears, either.
The day passed routinely. Junia came back from her lesson in commands, and she and I drilled the chosen archers on the butts. We moved the best onto the pavo, later. Dian came back from patrol; Junia went to work with the bowyers—they were making another dozen bows in the Eastern style—and I took a patrol out. I carried a bow. After yesterday, I thought it prudent. I'd ordered Dian and Talyn to do the same.
We rode a large circuit, north and west of the fort, me and three cadets, all under fourteen. They'd been trained well, their eyes constantly in motion, their minds on the job, listening, watching. Nothing moved. There was no game to startle: it had all been hunted, and even the smaller birds were trapped by the men. We had scouts out, as well, I knew, individual men who could move through the landscape virtually unseen. I guessed they saw us. We did not see them.
Riding back in, I considered what a Marai scout might see. We should overlap the patrols, I thought. Right now, there was a break: Talyn would start out just as I returned, and take a different route, but the perimeter was unguarded for a short time. Ideally, we needed one, or even two, full patrols added. I would speak to my captain.
I found him later, in the commons. He listened to my idea, nodding. “Given yesterday's incident, I agree,” he said. “I'll find six more cadets to assign. Who will lead?”
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