“Oh, that,” Chip said cheerily. “I’ve worked out just what to do. I’m going to ask her.”
*
A small town had grown up next to Fort Krowe. Initially, it had existed solely to supply the needs of the Rangers, but over the years, it had acquired a life of its own. Unsurprisingly, from the first, the town had attracted bowyers and swordsmiths, who no longer confined their trade to the military. Blades and bows from Fort Krowe were prized throughout the Homelands. The weekly market in the main square was the center of this trade.
Kim looked around as she and Chip wove their way between the crates and half-dismantled stalls. It was the end of another frenetic day of buying and selling. Crowds were thinning, and the stalls were being taken down for the night. No one spared a second glance for the two Rangers in their uniforms of green and gray, strolling across the cobbles. The indifference brought a wry smile to Kim’s lips. Anywhere else, they would have attracted a lot of attention, if only from wide-eyed children, but this was Fort Krowe, home of the Rangers.
As they reached the far side of the market, Chip tapped Kim’s arm and pointed down a side street. “Do you mind if we go to the Cat and Fiddle tonight?”
“No,” Kim agreed easily and changed direction. “Any particular reason?”
“The rest of my patrol are going there. I’m hoping the new girl will tag along so I’ll get the chance for a little off duty chat.”
“To try and find out why she was court-martialed?” Kim put a teasing edge to her voice.
“Of course. Why else?”
“Well, you did say she was attractive.”
“I said she was prettier than you.”
Instead of answering, Kim directed a sideways look at her friend.
Chip laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re worried.”
“About what?”
“That she might take away some of the adoring hordes that chase after you.”
This time, it was Kim who laughed. “There are enough women mesmerized by a Ranger’s uniform to go around.”
“And around and around.” Chip grinned. “Well, you should know.”
Kim made no attempt to deny the gibe. It was true that some women were fascinated by Rangers, and Kim was quite happy to admit that she made full use of the allure of her uniform—as did many others in the squadron. Maybe there was comment on her unrelenting pace as she worked her way through the stream of infatuated women, exceptional even among the free-living Rangers. However, she did not intend to get defensive about her behavior, especially not with her best friend. Chip knew her, and her life history, well enough to come up with some painfully sharp conjectures about the underlying causes, and it was not a subject that Kim felt ready to reflect on.
Their arrival at the tavern put a temporary end to the conversation. The taproom of the Cat and Fiddle was busy. Even so, it was not hard to spot the group of Rangers in the corner. Chip led the way, with Kim half a step behind. As they sauntered over, loud voices hailed the two sergeants. Both were well liked and, off duty, welcome drinking companions. Kim immediately identified the newcomer at the back of the group. The woman was clearly uneasy, although making an effort to fit in. The other members of the patrol were being polite, but they were also unsure how to react to the new addition to the squadron.
While they were still out of earshot, Kim whispered, “I take it that’s her?”
“Yes.”
“Not bad,” Kim said appraisingly. Chip had not exaggerated her appearance. “But you don’t need me to tell you to be careful.”
“I said I thought she was good-looking. I didn’t say I planned on doing anything.”
“I heard what you said. I also heard how you said it.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not about to do anything daft.” Chip rapped her knuckles gently on Kim’s arm. “Anyway, there’s no chance that someone who looks like that would have the slightest interest in anyone who looks like me.”
Kim managed to stifle her sigh. It was an old point of contention. Chip often claimed that her adolescent delight in being able to pick up lovers at will had gone with the knowledge that the women were attracted purely by her uniform. If Kim argued, Chip would cite the mirror as evidence, saying that the most flattering word she could come up with to describe her own face was “interesting.” Chip said it without bitterness or false modesty, but in Kim’s opinion, that still did not make it correct.
Kim had tried unsuccessfully to explain that only when Chip was studying her own reflection was her face inanimate, humorless and critical, which made all the difference. Many women had told Chip that she had a nice smile; Kim just wished Chip would take what they said seriously.
Yet now was not the time for a fresh attempt to change Chip’s opinion of herself. The new squadron member was a far more immediate concern. Just before they reached the group of Rangers, Kim caught hold of Chip’s shoulder and pulled her around so that their eyes met. “Friendship” was too weak a word for the bond between them. Each had risked her life for the other on countless occasions. The vigilance did not stop when they were off duty, and something about Chip’s reaction to the sight of Katryn set off alarm bells in Kim’s head.
She lowered her voice to an earnest whisper. “Just remember, she’s trouble.”
*
It was late in the evening before Chip got the chance for a private chat. The tavern was clearing slowly. Kim, true to form, was homing in on a soft-faced trader from Landfall. Katryn was sitting alone at a table in an alcove. Chip took her drink and slid in opposite.
“How are you doing?” Chip opened the conversation.
“I’m fine, thank you, ma’am.”
“We’re off duty. You can call me Chip.”
“Yes, ma—” Katryn swallowed and looked anxiously toward the bar, as though searching for advice. Her eyes dropped to her almost-empty tankard. Chip pointed at it.
“Can I buy you another one?”
“Oh, no…I…” Katryn was floundering for words. “I don’t drink much, but thank you.”
Chip studied the downcast face. She had tried to work out a tactful way to approach the subject, but everything she had thought of sounded contrived. It did not seem hopeful that Katryn was going to volunteer the information, so blunt honesty was going to have to do.
Chip settled back slightly in her chair, in order not to appear too intimidating, and asked, “Why were you court-martialed?”
“Pardon?” Katryn’s head shot up.
Chip did not repeat her words, judging that Katryn’s response was not due to mishearing.
Katryn met her gaze for a few tense seconds and then shook her head. “I haven’t been court-martialed.”
“So why aren’t you a Leading Ranger?”
“I haven’t been in the Rangers long enough to qualify. I only completed initial training in January.”
Chip opened her mouth and then shut it again. Her eyebrows drew together in a frown. Of course, it was possible. Before a woman could apply to the Rangers, she had to complete two years’ probation in the Militia. The full term of enlistment was fourteen years. Those whose applications were successful spent the last twelve years in the Rangers. After that, it was possible to reenlist in seven-year extension periods, as long as the woman was not too old. Forty-four was the cutoff point for active field duty, sixty for divisional staff and seventy for command. To enlist in the Militia, a woman could be between sixteen and thirty, but in practice, it was extremely rare for anyone to join after the age of twenty. A fair proportion of the squadron had applied for the Militia and then the Rangers on the very first day they were eligible. Chip had not been quite so prompt, but she had still entered the Rangers before her nineteenth birthday. She had never heard of anyone very much older even wanting to transfer to the Rangers, let alone being accepted, but it was not prohibited by the rules.
“I didn’t…er…I…” Now it was Chip who was lost for words.
“I haven’t been charged with any crime, let alone
found guilty.” Katryn’s voice was soft, with a bitter undertone.
“I’m sorry. I’m afraid I made assumptions from your age.”
Katryn bit her lip and then nodded. “That’s all right. I know it’s unusual.”
The question of why she had been transferred remained, but Chip felt that she had blundered into enough awkward mistakes for one evening. She decided to retreat to another subject, and it would be safest to let Katryn choose it. “Right. Well…um…is there anything I can tell you? About the squadron or whatever?”
“I don’t know much about Central Division, what the postings are like or…” Katryn’s voice trailed away into a shrug.
Chip nodded. It was a safe subject. “Varied, very varied. Northern, Eastern and Western Divisions have their section of border to protect. Central has to cover everything else.”
“The coast to the south?” Katryn suggested.
“Technically, yes. But though I’ve heard tales of sea monsters, they stay in the water and don’t cause us problems.”
Katryn’s face fell slightly. “A shame. I’ve always wanted to see the ocean.”
“Oh, you’ll get to see it, all right, and everywhere else in the Homelands as well. Whenever a local Militia has a problem too big to handle, they call on Central Division. We’re the smallest division—only five squadrons—and we cover the largest territory. On top of that, we are sometimes loaned to other divisions as reserves, particularly in winter, when snow lions get troublesome. We think of Fort Krowe as our base, but we don’t spend much time here.”
“It sounds like the 23rd sees a lot of action.”
“Oh, we do. Of all sorts.” Chip’s grin returned. “The other divisions rotate around the garrison towns on the borders. We get to visit places where they don’t normally see Rangers. You won’t believe how enthusiastically women will grab their once-in-a-lifetime chance to examine the contents of a Ranger’s uniform.”
Chip glanced across the tavern. Once-in-a-lifetime chance or not, Kim’s trader was clearly eager to undertake the investigation.
“I’m not into…I mean, if that’s what other Rangers want, it’s okay, but for myself, I don’t…” Katryn mumbled.
Chip yelped with laughter. “Now, that’s not the proper attitude for a Ranger.”
The humor missed Katryn. “I had a lover before, and she…” Her voice failed her. Katryn’s expression had been starting to open. It snapped shut, but before it closed, Chip saw into a raw pit of pain.
Chip slipped down in her chair, letting her gaze rise to the blackened beams of the ceiling. It would explain the transfer. Affairs between Rangers were not approved of, but they were impossible to forbid. In the closed world of barracks and field duty, many Rangers slept together, generally expressing no more than the intense camaraderie of active service. On a daily basis, your life lay in your comrades’ hands, binding you closer than sisters. The authorities would take no action unless the relationship got out of hand, threatening the military discipline of the squadron, but then they would step in—hard. It was particularly likely in the case of an affair between an officer and her subordinate.
Katryn was attractive enough to make any Ranger forget herself. It would not be surprising if a sergeant, or someone of even higher rank, had fallen for her. Separating the lovers was the quick, ruthless answer, and Katryn, as the new recruit, would be the one to be moved.
Chip’s face softened in sympathy. As she had thought before, it had to be hard to be dumped in a new squadron, in circumstances that guaranteed distrust. And it was so much harder to do it with a broken heart.
Chapter Two—A Bad Name
The practice blades were blunt but could still provide a painful jolt, even through a thick leather jerkin. Katryn gasped and staggered back a step but kept her grip firm on her own sword and her eyes on her opponent. Chip followed up the advantage, thrusting forward again. This time, Katryn managed to block—just. However, after a few more parries, Chip again got through the defense with a hard swipe to the stomach. Katryn doubled forward, ending up wheezing with both hands braced on the ground.
Chip stood back and pursed her lips. It was not the point to leave people black and blue, but you did no one any favors in playing patsy during weapons practice. When Katryn had recovered her breath, Chip offered a hand to pull her back to her feet. Katryn stood shamefaced under Chip’s appraising stare.
“I’ve known worse,” Chip conceded at last. “But I expect better.” In fact, Katryn was average, or would be with a bit more practice.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Chip bent down and picked up the dropped practice sword. “What are you like with a bow?”
“Better.”
Chip tilted her head to one side. “Really? Well, we’ll give it a go after lunch.” She turned to look around at the other pairs sparring on the grass. The weather was colder than the day before and overcast. The tops of the mountains were lost in clouds. Despite this, all eight women of C Patrol had worked up a sweat.
Chip was about to reassign partners when a shout echoed over the field. “Sergeant Coppelli!” She looked up to the top of the field. A Ranger from D Patrol was charging toward them. The urgency in the woman’s tone prompted Chip to meet her halfway.
“What is it?”
“Captain LeCoup has summoned all the sergeants.”
Chip did not need to hear more. The 23rd Squadron had another mission. “Corporal Horte, weapons practice is finished for today. Take the patrol back, and check out their gear.” Chip threw the order over her shoulder and raced off without waiting for a response.
As she got close to the officers’ quarters, Chip saw the other sergeants converging on the building from different directions. Kim caught up with her by the door. “We’re off again.”
“Looks like it.”
Captain LeCoup and Lieutenant Ritche were waiting in the briefing room. Seconds after Chip and Kim took their places, the door opened, and the other two sergeants came in. LeCoup ran her eyes over the small group and began.
“I’ve not got many details to give you at the moment. A convoy was ambushed in the forest north of Redridge and the cargo stolen. Three women were killed. We have to get to Redridge as soon as possible and liaise with the local Militia captain. There’s an hour before lunch to get ready. We’ll stay to eat and ride out straight after. Any questions?”
There were none.
LeCoup gave a crisp nod. “Dismissed.”
*
Late afternoon, three days later, the squadron arrived at the outskirts of Redridge. From a long way off, the Rangers could see the toylike silhouettes of houses stuck atop the sandstone hill that gave the town its name. Redridge was situated high on the flanks of a long mountain chain. To the south was a pass leading to Landfall. In summer, there was steady trade on the road. Winter closed the route, however, and those who could not avoid traveling at that time had to take the long detour by Fort Krowe at the western end of the range. North of Redridge, the road went through dense forests until it reached the rich farmlands around Fairfield.
Captain LeCoup called a halt at the bottom of the hill. There was no need to drag the entire squadron and their horses through steep, winding streets. With only Lieutenant Ritche beside her, she set off in search of the town mayor and Militia captain. The other Rangers made the most of the chance to rest after the hard ride, stretching tired muscles and talking. Before long, a messenger came back down the hill with directions to a field where the squadron could set camp.
The work of erecting tents and digging latrines went smoothly, watched by a curious group of locals. The Rangers paid little heed to their audience; they were used to receiving attention from excited civilians. Of more concern was the suitability of the campsite they had been allocated—something that was often an issue—but this time, there were no grounds for complaint. The field was large enough and had been left fallow for summer grazing. There was still plenty of good pasture for the horses. A stream ran nearby, w
ith woods behind for fuel. By the time the two senior officers returned, the camp was finished and preparations for the evening meal had started. The first trails of smoke rose into the evening sky.
Chip stood with her back to the tents, watching birds squabble in the nearby trees.
“Briefing for the whole squadron in ten minutes outside the captain’s tent.” The Ranger from A Patrol passed on the message.
Chip glanced over her shoulder to check that all her patrol had caught the news. “Any indications?” she asked the messenger.
“LeCoup is fuming.”
“Surely not over the robbery?” one of the newer members asked.
The messenger laughed. “Outlaws are what we’re paid to deal with. It takes the Militia to get the captain screaming for blood.”
“A wild-goose hunt?” Chip suggested.
“I fear so.”
As soon as the briefing started, it was plain from LeCoup’s expression that the messenger had been correct. The captain looked at the ring of uniformed women seated on the ground and ran a hand over her face as though she were trying to rub away the scowl. It did not work.
“Okay. This is the story.” LeCoup’s tone was scathing. “There was a shipment of gold jewelry from Landfall to Fairfield. Rather than pay a fortune for lots and lots of guards, the merchant decided she’d disguise the cargo as something else. So the jewels were hidden inside bales of wool, and everyone on the crew tried to look as ordinary as possible. The outfit was made up of just two wagons, each with a driver and a guard, with one extra mounted scout. They got as far as Redridge without any problems, but a few kilometers to the north of here, they were ambushed. Three of the crew were killed. Two managed to run like hell and get away.” LeCoup paused, glaring. “And this happened over a month ago.”
Groans from around the circle greeted the last announcement.
“Yeah, I know. The Militia have obviously mistaken the Rangers for some relatives of the Tooth Fairy. I asked how they thought we could track down anything now. Perhaps they thought we’d brought our magic wands with us.”
Rangers at Roadsend Page 2
