“I’m just going to see what’s keeping Choi and that breakfast,” said Purna, talking in the stilted tone of one being very careful not to breathe through her nose. “There anything else I can bring you?”
“Yeah,” Maroto gasped between retches. “Diggelby’s fucking head.”
Thrice Sullen had carried Grandfather to Maroto’s tent so that the three generations of Horned Wolves could finally sing for one another, and three times the girl wearing the pelt of their people had rebuffed them at the flaps. Purna, something Purna they called her, and she hadn’t been rude about it, more annoyed at her captain for being so hungover he’d spent the whole day getting out of bed just long enough to puke before collapsing again. But the last time she hadn’t even looked up from the card game she was playing with her comrades, all of whom also wore horned wolf trophies. Instead, she had just waved them off and said:
“Soon as he’s sensible I’ll fetch you. He ain’t been up for more than five minutes at a stretch, though, so don’t expect poetry from the poot.”
“The poetry of Maroto; now that I would like to hear!” said the duchess with the horned wolf tooth tiara perched atop her high wig.
“Yeah, thanks,” Sullen muttered, carrying Grandfather back toward their tent. “With our luck he’ll puke himself to death before we even get to hear his side of the song.”
“We should be so lucky,” said Grandfather. “He drops dead, we’ll take his bones and grind ’em down to make you a weapon like the ones my mother used to wield. Iron forged with the ashes of your ancestors is the most powerful metal there is.”
“Yeah?” Sullen hadn’t heard this tale before. “Great-Gran had something like that?”
“One knife made from each of her mothers,” said Grandfather, leaning in close to whisper in his grandson’s ear, as though the camp was full of spies just looking to steal an old man’s stories. “They never missed, Sullen, never.”
“Huh.”
“ ‘Huh’ is all you ever say. Huh. Oi, laddie, see that hill there?”
Sullen saw it, all right: the camp backed into and partially up the base of a foreboding mountain, and right before the climb got really bad and the tents fell away was a tall spit of brown grass. Highest point around, short of climbing the mountain or one of the two ridges that came down like walls on either side of the camp, and without need for further clarification he tramped toward it as the Lark’s Tongue speared the setting sun.
“There we are,” said Grandfather when Sullen finally topped the hill, a crude symbol of stones at his feet and the whole world spread out beyond them. “That’s something to see. Your Immaculate girl is in for it now!”
That she was. From down in the camp they could only see the ridgeline of the grassy rise across the low valley, but up here the foothills looked nearly as flat as the plains they melted into, and damned if the whole countryside didn’t look like it had broken out in an angry rash. The Imperial camp wasn’t twice as big as that of the Cobalts, but it was close. And from those Crimson tents to the valley floor it couldn’t have been much more than an hour’s march; from the valley floor to the first Cobalt tent was less than half that.
“Don’t look good, does it?” said Sullen sadly. Their time was nearly out; as soon as tomorrow the battle could start, and what the hells would they do then? More specifically, what would Sullen do with Grandfather? He couldn’t expect the old man to understand his need to fight in a war that they were no part of, nor could he leave Grandfather behind and go fight on his own—if he fell, what would happen to a Horned Wolf who hadn’t walked on his own in over a decade? After all they’d been through, it looked like they might have squandered their only chance to talk to Maroto the day before, and now the battle might come before they could try again. Which meant they had to set out into the mountains that very night if they wanted to avoid a war between Outlanders, but it also meant leaving behind his uncle without giving him a chance to set things right… and leaving behind Ji-hyeon, which almost seemed worse. “Don’t look good at all.”
“Good?” Grandfather snorted. “Looks ruddy great, laddie. If I’d known they remembered how to fight a real war out here, I would’ve followed Maroto the first time he left the Savannahs.”
“Yeah?” Sullen didn’t think he’d ever heard Grandfather call his son by that name.
“Yeah,” said Grandfather, “I’d near given up on the notion, but looks like there’s still hope for me makin’ it into Old Black’s Meadhall. If that many Imperial curs can’t send me to the ancestors, then I reckon I might have to reconsider my whole mortality.”
“You mean you want us to pledge our arms to the Cobalt Company?” said Sullen, half relieved to have the matter sorted in the best way possible, but only half, mind. He still hadn’t seen Ji-hyeon since Zosia had brought the girl’s lover back to her—as if Sullen needed more reason to be sore about the one called Cold Cobalt—and the notion that he now had an excuse to visit the general made him almost as happy as it did skittish.
“If that’s what it takes to coax a smile out of you,” said Grandfather, rapping his knuckles into Sullen’s hair. “If the two sides are the Imperial dogs who dragged their Chain clear up to the Savannahs or anyone ruddy else, I’ll raise my spear beside anyone ruddy else. Besides, that white witch wants us to leave, which is all the more reason to stay.”
“Hoartrap?” Sullen gulped. If Grandfather found out—
“You did a lively dance keeping that from me, Sullen, though why you felt the urge I’ll never guess. You think I’d be so ired over his bein’ part of the crew that I’d wriggle after him on my belly, snapping at his ankles?” Grandfather’s fingers burrowed through the hair that had caught his hand and scratched affectionately at Sullen’s scalp. “Well, I suppose I might have, once upon a time. But he came by one of those evenings you were at your ease with that blue-haired… young lady. We had a talk, he and me, and we had a couple more since.”
“Damn, Fa,” said Sullen, impressed as ever with his grandfather’s coolness. “You’ve known this whole time? I thought I was slick about it.”
“Slick as pinesap.”
“Huh. So what’d you talk about?”
“Never you mind,” grumbled Grandfather. “You’ve kept enough of your secrets; I’m entitled to a few of my own. The relevant point is he wants us both gone, wants it in a bad way, which is why I’ve decided to stick around. I scare, the same as any mortal, but I don’t scare by the likes of him. Now shake a paw, it’s getting on in the day, and if we might die tomorrow I aim to get a good night’s sleep first.”
Even with the hardest battle of her life within spitting distance, Ji-hyeon couldn’t help grinning as the four of them sat around the table in her tent. It was the first time in nearly a year that they had all sat together, sipping kaldi and passing a waterpipe, and for as much as the world had changed, they had not. Sure, she picked up more on minor frictions, like the glares Keun-ju would launch through his veil at Fennec or the saucy winks Fennec would fire back, or Choi’s skepticism about both of her other guards, but those things had always been there, just swimming too deep for her to catch.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t have the rest of your council in here for this?” said Fennec, nodding down at the map. “Just to make sure all qualified heads have a chance to take it in?”
“If she were worried about qualified heads, Brother Mikal, she wouldn’t very well have you in here, would she?” said Keun-ju, sipping his kaldi.
“I’ve given a lot more people in this camp a lot more cause to wish me ill, Keun-ju, so I wouldn’t make such a production about it,” said Fennec. “Ji-hyeon seems to have gotten over it, so—”
“Enough barking,” said Choi, which was enough of a burn coming from her to quiet them down. “Our general offers us paramount honor. Who else but her bodyguard need know her every movement?”
“I’ve done this enough times to know it’s not as simple as we three keeping an eye on her,” said Fennec, but he’d
thankfully dropped some of the snide. “In a battle this big, if the general insists on leading from the field—which I still advise against, protective devil or no—the other captains need to know where to find her. An effective army is a coherent army, and plans we’ve spent a hundred hours perfecting may well fall apart in the first hundred heartbeats of the fight. If that happens we will need the command to regroup, and to do that the general cannot penetrate too deep into the front, and the other officers must have some idea of where to find her. Does that make sense?”
“If you bleating peacocks had let me speak, I would have told you that the rest of the officers have already gone over the plan. Several times, in fact.” Ji-hyeon yawned, the gurgling pipe having counteracted the kaldi. “The Crimson agreed to meet us at noon, so I want everyone ready by dawn. No, make it an hour before light, just to be on the safe side. For now I think we’d all better assume this is our last night on the Star, and do some things we’ll regret if we live out the morrow.”
Fennec rolled his eyes, Keun-ju coughed and turned his face away, and Choi just looked befuddled. The more things change… However tomorrow’s battle shook out, Ji-hyeon was glad these three were here to fight beside her, just as they had that fateful night of the Autumn Festival when she had found her calling.
“General,” one of her tent guards called in. “Masters Ruthless and Sullen request an audience.”
“Send them in!” Ji-hyeon realized she’d practically chirped it, and rubbed at her eyes in exaggerated fatigue to cover a blush of her own.
“Isn’t the hour rather late to be meeting common mercenaries?” asked Keun-ju, and she’d been away from him so long Ji-hyeon couldn’t tell if he was teasing her or actually jealous.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Fennec, smirking at Keun-ju. “A general should always be accommodating for her troops.”
“You guys,” said Ji-hyeon, secretly loving the weird sensation of having her Hwabun crew here, providing a chorus to her new life just as they always had to her old. “They’re probably just telling me they’re leaving. They never actually pledged to…”
Ji-hyeon trailed off as the familiar shape of Sullen stepped into the command tent, the source of his delay now obvious: he’d had to unsling his grandfather from his back before entering the low-ceilinged tent, and now held the old man in his arms like the Star’s nastiest baby. In all the excitement of the last few days, she hadn’t been able to carve out enough time to see him, and now that he had come to her, was it really just to say good-bye? Their business was with Maroto, and if they had resolved it she might never see him again…
The old man said, “Sorry to interrupt, General Ji-hyeon Bong, General of the Cobalt Company, Second Daughter of some Immaculates I don’t know nor ever will, but my grandson and I need a quick ear.”
“Uh. General.” Neither the presence of his grandfather nor Ji-hyeon’s still-seated retinue seemed to be putting Sullen at ease, but then Choi clapped her hands together and rose to her feet.
“We will respect your secrets,” said the wildborn, waving Fennec and Keun-ju to accompany her out. Ji-hyeon appreciated the gesture, but Choi’s unique vocabulary proved especially mortifying—what was so bad about the word “privacy”? “Secrets” sounded… pretty damn appetizing, where Sullen was concerned, but that was beside the point. Choi was addressing Sullen now, of all people. “Has your uncle overcome his weakness?”
“Doubt he ever will!” said the old man, evidently appreciating Choi’s turn of phrase more than Ji-hyeon. “If fear was a muscle, my son’s would be bigger than his biceps.”
“Choosing not to fight is not the same as fearing it,” said Choi, taking the same chiding tone with this scarred-up geriatric as she always used to with Ji-hyeon. “I have seen how adeptly he avoids combat, how his eyes move when his body does not, how swiftly he strikes, when left with no alternative. When he chooses to spill blood, I believe he will prove himself undeserving of your scorn. When I asked of his weakness, I misspoke—I intended to ask of his injuries.”
Misspoke? In all their years together, of all Choi’s strange turns of phrase, that was one term Ji-hyeon had never heard the wildborn use—she would clarify or translate, sure, but was as careful and precise with her language as she was with her sword. From the look Fennec and Keun-ju exchanged, they were similarly intrigued by this development.
The old man was less impressed. “The boy’s certainly adept at avoiding fights, I’ll grant you that. I guess all your tongue-wagging means the Mighty Maroto hasn’t signed on for the big one, has he?”
“No, he has not,” said Choi, and was that a trace of melancholy in her voice? “But it is honor that hamstrings him, not fear. You called him Craven, but that is incorrect. He is crude but strong. He is hurt but hopeful. He is loyal but conflicted. He is rash. Too rash. He has a devil inside him, but I think he can win against it. He will fare better with the tusks of his friends to face it.”
Both the old man and Sullen looked taken aback at this, and they didn’t even realize how rare a speech it was; usually prying that many words out of Choi required making an enormous error that demanded complicated correction. Then Choi gave them a nod and hustled out, but Keun-ju and Fennec seemed to have forgotten to leave.
“All right then, you two, if you’ll excuse us—” Ji-hyeon began, but for the first time that she could remember, Sullen interrupted her.
“Nah, they can stay. General,” he added quickly, eyes everywhere but on her. “We won’t take but a minute, and I don’t mind your captains or guards hearing what I’ve got to say.”
“So say it,” said the nearly toothless Ruthless. “Or I will.”
“I knew you came to the Cobalt Company on your own business,” said Ji-hyeon, feeling Keun-ju’s gaze as she bowed to the two barbarians. “I have appreciated our time together, but unless you wish to be caught up in a war that you have no stake in, this is the time to go. I am… delighted you came to say good-bye.”
“Nope,” said Sullen, and he took a knee with his grandfather still cradled in his arms. “I do have a stake in this, General Ji-hyeon Bong, Second Princess of Hwabun, Daughter of Jun-hwan and Kang-ho Bong: you. I pledge myself in your name, because you’re the first person I’ve met outside the Savannahs who deserves all my respect, and more than I can give besides. If you say this war is worth fighting, I believe you.” Sullen was looking up into her eyes now, and without glancing at Keun-ju or a mirror, Ji-hyeon couldn’t tell if she, Sullen, or her Virtue Guard looked the most embarrassed by his proclamation. It might have been a three-way tie. “If you’ll accept my oath, I’m yours until you release me from the Cobalt Company.”
Ji-hyeon nodded, doing everything in her power to keep the smile inside her mouth, but Sullen must have caught the edge of it like he always did, for his eyes lit up as he slowly rose. Grandfather gave her something that might have passed for a salute, and said:
“I go where he does, so that means you’ve got my word, too.” He winked a rheumy eye at her. “I wouldn’t have laid it on so thick, mind, but I approve the arrangement, if you follow. If we could discuss restitution—”
“Another time,” said Sullen quickly. “We’ll leave you to your planning, then, General. Just wanted to make sure it was all sorted, since there’s noise around camp about tomorrow being the big day. General. Um, Captain Fennec. Captain Keun-ju.”
“I’m a Virtue Guard, not a captain,” said Keun-ju, meeting Sullen’s guileless, friendly glance with a flip of his veil. “It was so nice to finally meet you, after hearing all of Ji-hyeon’s tales—I hope when the day is won and we can all return to being civilized the three of us can sit down for kaldi. I’m sure we have so much in common.”
“One thing, at least,” said Sullen, bolder by half than Ji-hyeon had seen him since that first night he showed up in camp. But quick as the confidence came it fled, no doubt impeded by his grandfather’s snickering and Fennec’s loud snort. “See you both around out there, I guess.”
&nb
sp; “I guess we will,” said Keun-ju, and then Sullen was out of there as fast as his tightly muscled legs could carry him. Keun-ju whistled softly as Sullen ducked out of the tent. “Oh. So that’s what you see in him.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to ask him to be part of your bodyguard?” asked Fennec. “You can’t buy the kind of protection he’d offer you; it has to come from the heart.”
“Or somewhere lower,” said Keun-ju. “What?”
“Both of you, go,” said Ji-hyeon, shooing them out into the twilight. “After all that scintillating conversation I’m quite exhausted, and think I may actually get a good night’s sleep for a change. Don’t come back until an hour before dawn.”
Fennec made tracks, as he usually did, but Keun-ju hung back, his veil rustling in the breeze as he leaned in and whispered, “What about that whole we-may-die-tomorrow business? Making lusciously regrettable decisions? I’ve missed you so much…”
“I’ve missed you, too,” said Ji-hyeon, pecking him on the lace-hidden cheek. “Now, as soon as you fetch Sullen and get him to agree to a three-way split, we can get on with treating tonight like our last.”
Keun-ju pursed his lips and blew, kicking up the edge of his veil. “Really?”
“Maybe for my next birthday,” Ji-hyeon murmured, not really able to stop herself now that she’d gotten this close to him. She’d kept Keun-ju at arm’s length when he’d first returned to her and they’d had their talk, because she still couldn’t shake the doubt that his story was almost too plausible, that maybe he hadn’t told her the whole truth… But then again, even if his allegiances were in question elsewhere, she knew she could trust him in bed. Oh, how she’d longed for him, every day since she had left Hwabun… Well, okay, most of them. “Tell you what, Keun-ju—let’s go back inside and you can show me how much you missed me.”
A Crown for Cold Silver Page 56
