Firehand # with Pauline M. Griffin

by Andre Norton

  Ross's head lowered as Gordon spoke. He tried to allow himself to be reassured, but his despair only increased. Ashe really was good, a near miracle worker to the minds of their Dominionite allies, but comrades had died despite him, men and women who would have lived had they had a real doctor or a proper hospital in which he could treat them. The same lack could all too easily kill Eveleen Riordan within the next few hours or days.

  The partisans started again with the first light, not slackening pace even when they entered the highlands once more, nor did they halt a second time until they were within their home camp.

  Ross waited only long enough to see that his wounded were settled before going to Luroc to make his report.

  As was his wont, the Ton did not interrupt his war captain during his account, nor did he speak at once after it was completed. Murdock had left little for him to question, and, in truth, he would have been loath to press for further detail now even had he wanted it. The warrior looked totally spent.

  The agent was sitting in his usual place. His head was lowered, and his shoulders were uncharacteristically bowed with the weight of his weariness and with something that was akin to defeat. "I brought you a costly victory," he said suddenly after a long pause, speaking with apparent difficulty. "We have eleven slain and forty wounded, twenty-four of them seriously even—if Eveleeni proves not to be so. Those are the heaviest casualties we've suffered since taking to these mountains."

  The gray eyes seemed utterly stripped of life when he raised them. "I should have guessed what that convoy would do and allowed for it in my planning. It was the very course I myself would've followed had I been in their place. If you no longer want me as your commander, I'll resign…"

  "Do not be a fool! Do you imagine yourself Life's Queen's equal that you should ever be able to read the minds of men? You succeed quite often enough in doing it, or in seeming to do so."

  I Loran looked at him then and sighed. "Your pardon, Rossin. You have enough riding you without my adding to your burdens."

  Ross compelled himself to straighten. "You're right. I was being the fool, and yet, I can't but grieve over our losses both personally and because we can so ill afford them. It's a commander's duty to keep such to a minimum, and right now, I can feel only my failure to do that."

  "Without cause, as your own reason must tell you. Naturally, we suffer for those who have gone down, but we must expect losses when we deal with Condor Hall's own warriors rather than with mercenaries. Zanthor has them too filled with tales of the revenge we shall exact upon them and their kin in the event of Confederate victory for it to be otherwise. Your party met with a large number of them and paid the cost of taking them, a cost far lower than might well have been expected.

  "As for Eveleeni's fall," he added shrewdly, "that was accident, beyond any human controlling. Save that a sword caused it, she could as readily have gone under her deer in the training field or during a supposedly quiet ride."

  The black eyes gentled. "It is you who gave her a chance at life."

  "That means nothing if…"

  "It means everything."

  Ross's head bent once more but raised again in the next moment. "Thank you for that," he said quietly.

  The Terran gave his companion a wan smile as he literally willed the depression to lift from him. "You make a strong advocate, Ton Luroc."

  "I must be to argue down so unbending an opponent. Firehand meets with no such condemnation from others as he levels against himself on occasion."

  The pale eyes twinkled now. "I've heard Luroc I Loran speak as harshly of himself."

  "And have named him a buck's tail to his face! At least, I have never gone so far with you… Ah well, have I not said before that we are both stubborn men?"

  The Sapphireholder settled back in his chair. "No one in Gurnion's camp will be minded to slight you when your latest donation arrives." He shook his head. "That convoy was a prize even beyond the gold. Blankets, winter clothing, medical supplies, foods designed to sustain men and beasts in bitter weather—all costly material, and much of it is not readily procurable. Zanthor will be hard pressed to assemble another shipment like it in any reasonable time, and all the while, he will be galled by the knowledge that he will have no better guarantee of getting it through to his army when he does put it together than he did with this first lot."

  "He must try." Murdock sat forward. "I've been thinking, Ton. Suggest to Ton I Carlroc when you next meet that he keep his army at least partially active during the coming winter while the weather permits it at all. Continue striking the invaders, even if just to the extent of annoying them and forcing them to use more of their stores. The more unsettled we can keep them during the winter, the less able they'll be to meet a full assault come spring."

  "That is sound," the older man agreed, "but I want you there to press your argument yourself. We meet in council in a fortnight, and with the crisis coming upon us, Sapphirehold's war commander should be present along with the others, particularly since we now have mercenaries to face as well."

  The Time Agent nodded. "It would be best to coordinate our efforts as much as possible," he agreed.

  The energy was draining out of Ross again now that their more pressing business was finished, and all the weight he had borne earlier returned to crash his spirit.

  He glanced at the door. "With your leave, Ton Luroc, I'd like to see how Eveleeni's doing…"

  "You have my leave to go to bed… No, I try to restrain myself from issuing orders to you, but upon this, I do insist. The call to battle could come again at any moment. You are but poorly fitted to lead warriors now and will be less so in a few hours' time, perhaps incapable of it altogether, if you waste the chance to rest now. Besides," he added bluntly, "there is nothing you can do."

  Murdock stiffened.

  Luroc half softened, half laughed. "You do not like to hear that, my Friend, but the truth of it remains all the same… Go to bed. Good news or bad, it will reach you quickly enough when it breaks."

  16

  THE TIME AGENT slept like one dead, and when he did at last awake, he saw by the position and intensity of the light streaming into his room that it was already past noon.

  He sat up with an oath. Even normally, there was too much to be done in the aftermath of a raid to permit such squandering of precious time. Now…

  He was just pulling on his boots when Gordon's knock announced his presence.

  Ross looked up at him a little crossly. "Have you spy-holed this place?"

  "Not at all," he replied cheerfully. "I was just glancing through the paperwork on your desk and heard you stirring."

  The war captain's eyes swept his quarters and then returned to his partner. Everything was in its usual place, his gear restored to battle condition, yet Ashe had ridden the same mission with him and had unquestionably spent most or all of last night with the wounded. His strength, or, rather, his staying power, seemed almost superhuman. Still, it could be abused. "It seems that I've managed to take advantage of you again."

  The other smiled and shook his head. "Not at all. I'd slept a little the previous night. You'd held the watch."

  The younger man steeled himself. Fear was a burning spear in his heart, although his friend's easy manner reassured him somewhat. Gordon would surely not be speaking so lightly now if death had claimed any more of the wounded or if its grim shadow lay on Eveleen Riordan. "Were there any fatalities during the night?"

  "No. There won't be now. Even Jorcan is past his crisis."

  "Eveleen?" he asked, unable to restrain himself any longer.

  His terror was apparent to the other. Gordon's fingers pressed into his shoulder. "She's all right, Ross. There's no more danger."

  Murdock's eyes closed. He had braced himself for disaster, but relief threatened to overwhelm him, and it was a moment before he could trust himself to speak. "Thanks, Gordon," he whispered.

  He drew a deep breath and collected himself. "She's conscious?"
/>   "Our Lieutenant has been awake over an hour already," Ashe informed him.

  "Why wasn't I called?" he demanded angrily.

  "Because, hard as this life can be, I'd prefer not to be severed from it for a while longer. Neither Ton Luroc nor our fair comrade would have looked kindly upon me had I roused you before you'd slept yourself out."

  "She can have visitors?"

  "Naturally." He eyed Ross critically. "Since this much time has lapsed already, you might want to take a little more to eat and polish yourself up a bit. If you show up looking like you do at the moment, she'll take it that she's definitely not long for the world, whatever my assurances to the contrary, or else she'll think that something awful's happened. Besides, she needs time herself. Marri's still helping her get fixed up."

  Murdock's fear returned in full force. "What do you mean helping her? What's wrong?"

  Gordon laughed. "Calm down! She's stiff and sore as hell. You'd be, too, if a springdeer had just crashed down on top of you."

  Ross flushed but accepted the rebuke with good grace. "After breakfast, then… Are the rest up?"

  "A few. Most're still sleeping, or were when I came in."

  "Anything to report?"

  The archeologist shook his head. "No. There was no other action while we were gone, and nothing of significance happened here. Everything on the desk can afford to stay there a while longer."

  The war captain waited until he felt a decent amount of time had elapsed before going at last to the cabin occupied by his chief officer.

  He paused for a moment in the door of the single room comprising the small dwelling, although Eveleen had been quick in granting him leave to enter.

  She was sitting up in her bed, her back supported by pillows, her magnificent hair spread out like a veil around her. Seen thus, she seemed more like the distant, royal daughter of some powerful Ton than the fiery and able partisan officer beside whom he had lived and fought these last fierce months. She also looked vulnerable and impossibly fragile.

  He willed himself to overcome that last feeling and moved into the chamber, all the while studying his Lieutenant intently.

  Her small face was still too pale, making the eyes seem even larger and more luminous, but it was quite unmarked.

  That was apparently not true of the rest of her body, for she wore the shirt serving as her bed robe fastened tightly to the throat, and even so, he could see a finger of dark brown extending up the right side of her neck from beneath the collar. He shuddered in his heart at the sight of it, knowing how easily such a bruise might have become a break.

  She read his thoughts and laughed. "I'm told I shall live, Firehand. Come here and sit down if you have the time."

  The man was quick to obey, drawing up the chair already placed by the bed so that she need not strain or turn to look at him. "How do you feel?"

  "Sore."

  Her hand went to her hair. The movement was oddly slow, as if it troubled her greatly to make it. "I couldn't even have managed this if it hadn't been for Marri's help."

  "That'll pass off soon."

  "I sincerely hope so!" she responded with no little feeling. "She'll give me no peace until it does."

  "You'll just have to court patience, Lieutenant," he told her unsympathetically.

  "I don't seem to have much choice in the matter."

  He smiled at her expression. "It won't be for long. I hadn't expected to find you looking so well. Or so pretty," he added, believing she would be pleased to hear that after having suffered what could all too easily have been at least a temporarily disfiguring accident. "You're quite beautiful, you know."

  The woman laughed. "From the neck up. The rest of me makes quite another vision!"

  Her expression softened suddenly, and she held out her hands to him. "There's no way for me to thank you for what you did, Ross."

  His fingers closed over hers. "Having you warm and alive before me is thanks enough, Eveleen Riordan." Murdock's grasp tightened. "I said I had no wish to see you in danger. Now I realize how much I meant it."

  He felt embarrassed and carefully lowered her hands, slowly, so as not to further jar already tormented muscles. He released her but kept his fingers close to hers. "Lieutenant Riordan, as a favor to your commanding officer, the next time you decide to fall off a springdeer, please don't insist on bringing him down on top of you."

  She responded, as he had intended, with a grimace and an exaggerated shudder. "No fear of that, Lady Fortune willing!"

  Her bright eyes fixed him. "Well, Captain Firehand, what did we gain for all our trouble?"

  He described the contents of the wagons.

  Eveleen smiled to hear that report. She was no less aware of the value and significance of those goods than he was and would have entered into a detailed discussion of their future course had her chief permitted.

  Murdock rose to his feet. He feared to tire her by remaining too long and already thought her face seemed a little more pinched than it had been when he had come in. "That'll hold. Rest for now. A few days will give us both time to consolidate our thoughts. We can talk about it then."

  She had to content herself with that, and after learning the fate of their other comrades and exacting his promise to return as soon as his duties permitted, she bade the gray-eyed man farewell.

  17

  THE TERRAN WOMAN remained in her quarters that day and the next but after that felt sufficiently free of stiffness and discomfort to return to her normal duties, all save combat, which neither Murdock nor Ashe would permit this soon after her fall. Sapphirehold was not so desperate for warriors as to require or chance that.

  There would have been no need for her to ride even had the opposite been true. The days following the raid were quiet with no activity from Condor Hall and nothing to call the partisans away from their mountains save the seemingly endless patrols scouring the lowlands.

  They used the time well. There was work to be done in the camp which had been, if not neglected, at least not given its proper attention while the press of battle had been so heavy upon them. Both this place and the watch posts guarding the few passes were examined and refitted where necessary to meet the assaults of the fast-approaching winter, whose bite was now to be felt, at times keenly, in the sharp, high wind, and care was taken that those in the noncombatants' village lacked for nothing that might be provided to ensure their comfort and safety.

  The officers met frequently as well. Ross had not merely been offering Eveleen comfort when he had promised to speak with her within a matter of days. All knew that the closing weeks of this year and, to an even greater extent, the opening ones of that to come would be crucial to the war's outcome. As far as was possible, they wanted to anticipate their enemies' moves and lay their own plans for countering them.

  There was opportunity in plenty for rest, too, thrice welcome after the weeks of strain and almost constant effort just gone.

  The war captain was no less glad of those hours of ease than were the soldiers he commanded. He passed many of them with Ton Luroc, whose company he thoroughly enjoyed, and many more with Gordon and Eveleen.

  Especially with Eveleen. Once he had recognized and acknowledged his feelings for her, he had begun to look at her, to study her, with different eyes. What he found left him both amazed and not a little ashamed that he had remained oblivious to it all for so long.

  Eveleen Riordan had always been closely guarded about her deeper thoughts and feelings, he realized now. She had to make her way in a world quicker to challenge than to welcome her, and she had set her defenses early both to shield herself and to keep her strengths and plans concealed before those who might conceivably be prepared to use too intimate knowledge of her against her.

  Like everyone else willing to observe and judge her fairly, he had not been long in recognizing her competence, her courage, her good humor and ready wit, her gentleness both as a companion and a woman, but she had always before screened much of her inner life, most of wh
at went on behind the facade she chose to present to the universe around her, and he had allowed himself to remain all but blind to its very existence.

  Now, she was drawing back some of those thick veils. He began to see a little and guess more of this hidden part of his comrade and chief officer, glimpses of a strange, bright spirit that ever more powerfully intrigued him. He wanted to delve its depths, even though instinct warned him that he would never be able to fathom them completely.

  Eveleen was helping him. Such was the trust that she was giving him that she who was so proud and independent acknowledged her need for closeness in this alien world and time. She went so far as to permit him to see when shadows occasionally weighed her heart, although of these shadows, she never spoke directly.

  Darkness seemed to grip the weapons expert almost openly on the afternoon she first took to the saddle again after her accident.

  Ross did not at first press her, but he began to worry as time went on without any brightening in her attitude. There was something troubling her, and he wondered if it might not be nervousness over traveling mounted again. A fall such as she had taken could readily have induced fear.

  By all appearances, Eveleen Riordan seemed quite free of any such difficulty. She sat Spark easily, with no sign of tension, but that might too easily be meaningless. The weapons expert's courage and iron control were sufficient to mask even stark panic.

  Perhaps it was not this at all, but whatever twisted in her heart and mind, he longed to bring her ease, if only that of companionship and sharing.

  "You're doing fine," the man began tentatively.

  "Yes. There's only a little soreness left."

  She looked at him suddenly. "You thought I might be afraid to ride? Is that why you just about ordered me to let you come with me?"

  He flushed. "The possibility had occurred to me," he confessed. "I didn't mean to insult you."