At the Queen_s command cc-1

by Michael A. Stackpole

  Owen laid his hand on hers. "You mean that I shall never see you again."

  "You will, at a distance. You will come to church, and I shall be there. In the crowd when you march off to destroy du Malphias, I will be there. You'll see me with my uncle and my brother. You'll see my hand in stitches sewn for uniforms. You will be able to find me, but I cannot find you."

  "And if I wished to send you a letter?"

  "Please, Captain, do not. I lost you once, then came you back. But now I cannot have you. Please do not make this more difficult." She looked up and smiled briefly. "You will have your wife, and you will go back to Norisle and forget me, almost completely. Perhaps when you see the scar on your side and notice the stitching, you'll remember, but memory of me will fade far sooner than that scar. No matter."

  "You'll forget me as well."

  "No." She shook her head, looking down. "Women do not forget the men… Do you remember the first girl you ever kissed?"

  Owen thought for a moment, then nodded. "Her name was Jenny. Cook's daughter at Overton Park Academy."

  "Very good. Do you remember the first kiss?"

  His brow furrowed. "No. I mean, I can remember the circumstances, but…"

  "You can reconstruct the circumstances, Captain, but you cannot remember the touch of her lips, can you?"

  "No."

  "I remember my first kiss. I recall the scent of clover and the warmth of the summer air. I remember butterflies in the field, and the hiss of grasses as a breeze sent waves through them. I remember him, Ira, taller than me, casting a shadow over me. The sun made a halo around his head. I remember him bending over and kissing me quickly, so no one would notice, though we were utterly alone. I remember my lips tingling and my stomach feeling as if a dozen butterflies had flown down my throat. I remember every detail, and this was before I ever knew I loved Ira.

  "So, Captain Strake, you will come to forget me. You might be able to reconstruct me, but you will have no memory of me. Your wife, your family concerns, will bury me but, again, I do not mind. I shall remember you as tall and handsome, honorable and brave. And that will be quite enough for me."

  They turned east on Generosity and headed back toward the Frost home. "Have you any idea how remarkable a woman you are, Miss Frost?"

  "Remarkable rather than infuriating?"

  Owen chuckled. "Remarkable will do. You have wisdom beyond your years."

  "Not wisdom, truly, just the knowledge that life seldom unfolds as one wishes it would." She smiled up at him. "And that is not terribly cynical, just realistic. So many people grumble and complain, waiting for things to change instead of accepting them as they are, or working to change them. But changing things is very difficult, so only the brave attempt it."

  Owen nodded. "Thank you."

  "For?"

  "For yet one more gift." His eyes narrowed. "If we are going to defeat du Malphias, the old way of doing things will not work. We will need to change. I will not allow Rivendell to resist change, but force him to address reality."

  "It could cost you your career."

  He shrugged. "And it will save men's lives. The risk is worth it."

  "And that, my dear Captain Strake," she said as they stopped in the shadow of her parent's gate, "is why I love you."

  Chapter Fifty

  May 22, 1764

  Old Stone Face, Temperance

  Temperance Bay, Mystria

  "I reckon that's the ugliest troop of monkeys I ever did see." Nathaniel smiled as he greeted Major Forest. "Heard tell you was back."

  Forest turned, his eyes sharpening. "Nathaniel Woods, there's a sight for sore eyes. I'd offer to shake your hand, but I've been a bit on the rude side since Villerupt."

  Beyond the Major stood an open face of weathered rock. Quarrymen had been cutting into it from the west, but had left a hundred feet of old stone with pine trees on top and broken rock at the base. A couple stout men amid the trees-one being Makepeace Bone if Nathaniel's eyes weren't lying-hung on to ropes lashed to men making the ascent. The climbers each wore two long sticks across his back, and two pouches filled with stones.

  Forest smiled. "You can take your turn next, Nathaniel."

  "Iffen you think I can't climb that face…"

  "If you want to be one of the picked men, you have to earn it. Kamiskwa, too, if he's going to join up."

  "He's gone back to Saint Luke. Gonna see how many braves want to join us." Nathaniel surveyed the men gathered by the cliff. Most tended to be big, with Makepeace at the upper end, and his brother Tribulation being the only one taller. Weight-wise they ran about the same, with Trib being shaggy on top and clean-shaven otherwise. Others varied in height, but most carried a lot of muscle. Those tending toward leaner, like Nathaniel or Justice Bone, had a wolfish look about them.

  Forest followed his gaze. "It's a good crew answered the call. Those boys over there, with the red caps, they're down from Summerland, town of Farmingtown. Were bringing in furs when they heard about the call. Those two over there, in the brown jackets, they came up with me from Fairlee. Uriah and Jubal Hill. As good shots as you are."

  Nathaniel smiled. "They related to Colonel Hill?"

  "Not soes I know. They muzzle-load their rifles, so they are not as fast as you, but they are as good."

  "I reckon some wagering on that point might be in order."

  Forest nodded. "Have the Count back you again?"

  "That was his call." Nathaniel shrugged. "You serious 'bout me skinning that hill?"

  "I am if you expect to be a captain of one of the companies."

  Nathaniel folded his arms over his chest. "I don't think you'll be wanting me in command of no one."

  "Command? Perhaps not. Leading, on the other hand, without question." Forest pointed toward where Caleb and another of the college boys were beginning their ascent. "Many of these men have fired shots in anger, but not all. Like it or not, you're a legend. They all know three things about you. First, you've been where we're going. Second, you embarrassed Lord Rivendell, which means, to most of them, you've redeemed Mystria. Third, you are Magehawk."

  "You know better than most just how much that Magehawk talk is hooey."

  Forest shook his head. "Better than most, I know how much isn't. You were younger than any of them here when you went off, and you're not the oldest here now. Lots of men have bragged about shooting jeopards, but you're the only one who has the Governor-General bragging for him."

  "I ain't special. I just done what needed doing."

  "And that's what you'll do here." Forest smiled. "Your quiet confidence, Nathaniel, will calm a lot of nerves before we go up that cliff. Any boy thinks of quitting won't for fear of disappointing you."

  Nathaniel shook his head. "I ain't thinking I want that responsibility. I just want to get me a clean shot at du Malphias."

  Forest stroked his chin. "Let me put this a different way, Nathaniel. Either you come as a Captain of the Northland Rangers, or you'll not be going at all."

  "Now, I don't reckon…"

  "No, you don't reckon at all if you interrupt me. The situation is simple. If I can't have you in a leadership position, I can't have you in the ranks. You will chafe under someone else's command. Men will follow you because you're a natural leader. That creates division. And if men refuse to follow orders-and we will have scant time to train them at anything-they will die. And while you and Kamiskwa have been to Anvil Lake, you're not the only men who know how to get there.

  "If you are not under my command, you will still be a divisive force. You just want a shot at du Malphias. I understand this, but none of us can hazard you taking that shot regardless of our plans. If you're not with us, you won't be allowed on the expedition. Is this clear?"

  Nathaniel's nostrils flared. "You're beginning to sound powerful close to that idiot come to lead us."

  "No. He sounds the way he does because he supposes that is how he should sound. He has no real clue as to why he should insist on discipline. That
others oppose him is an affront to his honor, and that is all he cares about, his honor and his glory." Forest tapped a finger against his own chest. "If I ever had such dreams, I was clutching them in the hand I left in the Artennes Forest. I'm commanding and demanding because that is what will keep men alive. You've seen the fortress. It will be a meat-grinder. As much as I admire you and want you with me, if it is not on my terms, you will do more harm than good."

  "Some thinking needs doing." Nathaniel turned away and paced off, heading toward a barrel of water that had been filled from Sutler's Creek. Another man offered him a dipper, but Nathaniel waved it away, then plunged his head into the barrel. The cold water shocked him, then he came up and shook his head, spraying water all over.

  Major Forest was right, of course. Nathaniel knew he didn't fit well within society's sense of order. That was why he spent so much time outside of it. Society looked askance at his carrying-on with Rachel-even though they knew that she was rightfully his. The hypocrites turned his stomach, and the less he had to do with them, the more he liked it.

  Jumped-up idiots play-acting at soldiery, like Langford and Rivendell, were worse. Scolds might whisper about him, but those fools would get men killed. Nathaniel had already heard from various sources that Rivendell doubted most all of what they'd reported about du Malphias. He'd attributed their claims to "a certain Colonial propensity for hysteria when the subject of war with Tharyngia is at hand." Rivendell had cheated and stolen. Given three bullets and a choice of targets between Rivendell and du Malphias, Nathaniel would just as soon shoot Rivendell twice.

  Major Forest was pretty much the only officer he'd met that he thought deserving of rank. Nathaniel checked himself. Owen Strake merited that honor, too. Both men thought a lot about how to win, not what they'd do after they won. Owen had his scars; Forest, too, obviously. If he had to guess, Nathaniel figured Rivendell's body would have fewer blemishes than a newborn baby's behind.

  As much as he hated the thought of taking orders from someone else, his problem with Forest's offer went deeper. He could take orders from Forest. He had before-though he had been much younger-and respected the man enough to assume any service he asked was a service needed doing.

  What he didn't want was being responsible for men, and for their feeling beholden to him. Nathaniel could take care of himself. Always had done, likely would do until the day he died. He'd already forgotten things Caleb Frost would need to learn if he was going to live. There wasn't any way, as Forest had said, that they'd be able to teach the men everything, and Nathaniel wasn't sure there was a way to even teach them enough.

  He looked up as Caleb shouted for joy. He'd reached the top of the cliff. A few men below applauded; a couple threw caps in the air. Most of the hard men ignored his victory and, if he got chosen, many of them would figure it was because he was Forest's nephew.

  Nathaniel knew that wasn't true. Caleb was a smart young man and a good shot. He was a leader, too. He stood up there on the cliff, urging on his college friends. The other men had come in by themselves, or in small clumps. Caleb had brought a squad and had them gamely doing things some of them likely never imagined doing.

  "And like as not, they're the ones who end up dead." Nathaniel ran his hands back along his scalp, squeezing out barrel water, feeling it run down inside his leather shirt. That was the real trick of it. If men died, he'd end up carrying them with him forever. He'd do for their families what he'd done for Grannie Hale. He was sure he'd be thanked a lot, be told it wasn't his fault, but there would be those glances that told him otherwise. Cuz ain't nobody, given a chance to shift blame off the sainted dead, won't do it.

  He hugged his arms around himself. There was the final point. If he didn't go, if he didn't lead, he'd still feel responsible. If any of them died, he'd think they wouldn't have had he been there. He didn't want responsibility, but he saddled himself with it anyway.

  "I am pure-D doomed." He shook his head again, then smiled. "Least ways Kamiskwa ain't here to see this."

  Nathaniel walked back over to Forest. "I got me one condition."

  Forest raised an eyebrow.

  "You pick Caleb, he's my Lieutenant. You take his squad, Makepeace Bone leads it."

  The Major watched him warily. "Making Caleb your Lieutenant will not keep him out of danger."

  "I know that, but means I have his smarts working for me. And you're gonna be most like putting orders in writing, which he's better at deciphering than I's ever going to become."

  "I'll need time to think on this, Nathaniel. I favor your proposal at the moment. I'll decide in the time it takes for you to climb that cliff. Don't give me too long to change my mind."

  Nathaniel laughed and kicked off his moccasins. "Step aside boys. Coming up for to show you how this oughtta be done."

  Most men did part, though Rufus Branch made it his duty to get in the way while doing his best to pretend he was ignoring Nathaniel. Nathaniel darted around him, pulled on three pouches of stones and the two sticks as rifles.

  The man tying the rope around his waist commented on the extra pouch of stones. "You only need two."

  "Well, Rufus, he's carrying an extra stone or two. Ain't no reason I shouldn't."

  Men laughed, and someone made the mistake of trying to slap Rufus on the belly. That man landed on his butt with a split lip, but had the sense not to get up right away.

  Nathaniel began his climb. It came easy at the start, with hand-and footholds having been worn deep by boys who'd played on the cliffs for years. About twenty feet up a nice ledge afforded a view of the ocean past Temperance, and one could spot sails rounding the headland easily.

  After that it got a bit trickier, but Nathaniel had long since learned the secrets of climbing. Never hug the rock, never get too spread out, and do all the lifting with your legs. Sudden moves, especially with stones swaying and sticks clacking, would throw a climber off balance more sure than a gallon of whisky drunk in a minute. And the fall from a cliff was worse than the fall from an alehouse stool.

  Once he got past halfway, things became easy again because fewer climbers had made it that high. He ranged a little to the east, away from the quarry-side, and once he'd cleared some crumbling rock, made the run up fairly quickly. He climbed over the top and stood-even though he wanted to lay down and pant-and untied the belay line himself.

  Major Forest cupped a hand to his mouth. "Glad to have you with us, Captain Woods."

  Makepeace slapped him on the back, and Caleb offered him his hand as men below cheered and a couple fired off their guns. No bullets came close, but that was because Rufus wouldn't have dared do anything where folks could see, what with Makepeace above him and with his new Hill breech-loading rifle close by his side.

  Nathaniel shook Caleb's hand. "You done right well, Caleb."

  The younger man blushed. "Just hope my uncle thinks so. We, the boys and me, we want to go, do our part."

  "Iffen he does choose you, be an honor to serve with you."

  Caleb threw him a salute. "Yes, sir, Captain Woods."

  Nathaniel hesitated. "I ain't thinking it's right me having the same rank as Captain Strake."

  The younger man frowned. "Technically you don't. I mean, you'll be commanding the same number of troops as he does, doing the same things his troops do but in the command structure you'd only be a Subaltern."

  "A what?"

  "It's kind of a half-Lieutenant, and no Norillian trooper would have to obey your orders. It's because you're Colonial Militia."

  "So, by that thinking, your uncle, he's below Captain Strake?"

  "Yes."

  Nathaniel shook his head. "Don't seem right being as how one man stops a bullet good as the next."

  "Well, we are, after all, only redemptioneers."

  "Uh huh. I reckon there's going to have to be some mind-changing along about that." Nathaniel patted Caleb on the shoulder. "You go and get the rest of your men on up here, Mr. Frost. Show them Branches and Casks that reading d
on't slow you down none."

  "Yes, sir."

  Nathaniel laughed, not sure he'd ever get used to being called "sir" in that manner; and positive he never wanted to get to liking it. He headed along the path that ran around the top of the quarry and north, down a hill to the creek.

  Another man, medium height, lean build, rose from a stump and fell in step with him. "Nathaniel."

  "Justice."

  "How is it you ain't killed Rufus Branch yet?"

  "Well, I reckon he's just smart enough to not rile me when I'm in a cutting mood."

  Justice Bone nodded. "I amember a time you did cut him."

  Nathaniel nodded. Back when they were all young, with Rufus being three years older than Nathaniel, and Justice two years younger, Rufus had taken to pounding on Justice for some offense or other. Nathaniel had taken exception to that, and one cut with his knife had sent Rufus running long enough to get Justice home and his scalp sewed up.

  "He had it coming."

  "Heard tell he was saying he hoped you was going to head out with the troops. Said lots of strange things could happen to a man in battle."

  "Did he now?"

  Justice nodded. "Noticed he and Zachariah Warren spent a long time whispering and drinking together afore Warren headed south Monday."

  "Good thing to know."

  "Might have even seen some money change hands."

  Wasn't hard to figure out in which direction, since Branch never had any, and Warren had far too much.

  "I'll watch my back."

  "You do that, Captain. I will, too." Justice Bone nodded solemnly. "Time comes to settle accounts, Rufus will have his paid in full."

  Chapter Fifty-One

  May 24, 1764

  Government House, Temperance

  Temperance Bay, Mystria

  P rince Vlad made no attempt to hide his surprise. He'd been awakened by an urgent message from Lord Rivendell. The Military Governor took two pages of painfully pretty handwriting to request an urgent meeting. Vlad called together Count von Metternin, Major Forest, and Captain Strake. At the stroke of ten, Chandler ushered Rivendell into the Prince's office. Langford trailed in his wake, carrying two journals and several rolled maps.