“I will tell him we would not be able to trust our backs to such comrades.”
The elder nodded. She had no doubts the man would believe that rationale. The Old Mistress turned to face the forested depths beyond the stone wall, her hand sinking into the folds of her robe. “Send Commander Baily home alone, Amazon. Travel to Gronday by horseback. Say it would be advantageous to ride this route before you must defend it. That would be helpful, would it not?”
Shrewdly Cleis’ eyes narrowed. “It is always good to know the kind of land one must race across.”
“We could supply you with horse and gear. We have some very good animals here, as you may know. There is one in particular that Elana — your Amazon’s shadow-guide — trained herself. You might like the mare…?”
“I’m certain I would.”
“Perhaps too, you would find the road interesting from an instructors’ point of view.” The Old Mistress raised her brows. “I understand that you have trained a good many of the Commander’s agents here on Aggar?”
“A few.”
“Then I suggest you pay particular attention to the bridge crossing at the gorge. It sits just this side of the river junction. It is a long morning’s ride from here — about a third of the way to Gronday.”
“I believe I know of the place.”
“Good.” The Mistress nodded approvingly, walking away as she added, “It is a common practice sight for my trainees — quite a good place to teach defense strategies.” She paused, glancing back. “A very good training ground, don’t you think?”
“Yes…” Cleis’ heart was beginning to pound, “…a very good one.”
A smile touched the lines of her face. The Mistress knew they understood one another. She left the gardens to turn her attention to the Master. Formalities were to be observed… but doubtless he would be as eager as she for Elana’s safe return. If she could gain his agreement to this ‘training venture,’ then they would not need to consult other Council members. After all, ‘teaching’ was their sole responsibility and none could argue if they viewed this experience as an opportune training exercise. All the more defendable because, in truth, it was. She chuckled. It would be the Mother’s own wind blowing.
† † †
With a satisfied nod, Cleis turned from the edge of the narrow ravine and mounted the bay. The old woman had been right; this made a very defensible place.
She kneed the mare around and put a few paces between herself and the bridge. From this vantage point, it was obvious that a few well-trained swords would slow any group attempting to cross. Add a handful of archers at the side and a direct assault would never be successful.
The gorge was no more than eight or nine feet wide, but it was considerably deeper. And the jagged rocks of the river bed below were not inviting. A horseman would be foolish or desperate to attempt to jump the crossing. Although it was not an impossible feat in itself, the low border of rocks laid at the far edge was clearly an added deterrent. A horse would have to clear it as well as the chasm, and its rider could be cut down by sword or arrow long before the hind hooves would strike the earth. That left the bridge. Two could ride comfortably abreast, but not three. It was, Cleis judged, the perfect width for two sword arms to protect. And again, the shrub on this side had been cut well back, allowing an archer good sighting whereas cover and dim shadows were left for the Keep’s defenders.
One might say it was a good training ground. The Mistress had probably never lost a defending recruit. It was doubtful, however, that the invading class had ever been so lucky.
She looked skyward at the shrill of a hawk. The sun was arching high, and determinedly she wheeled the blood bay around. There had been too much bickering with the Council this morning.
Her knees clamped tight, and the mare leapt forward into an easy canter. If she pushed, she could make the Crossroads Inn tonight; she could be in Gronday within a few hours of sunrise. That would be good. Stevens and the others would be coming in by darkfall tomorrow, and she wanted to talk to Mattee before they arrived. It was not often his Southern Borders had requested his family’s help, but Mattee’s father had not denied it when last asked. Although, Cleis sorely hoped it would not be needed.
† † †
Chapter Eight
Elana and Paul were standing at the corner of the rough-hewn trader’s post, waiting for Diana to emerge with the proprietor.
Stooping low to avoid the doorway’s timber, Di’nay and a grizzled old trader stepped into the glaring, gray light of the morning. He squinted, ignoring the two of them, and pulled a twig from his mouth. He pointed it towards the river landing. “Got’em four monarc ’go. Good set in the water. Cuts nice’n clean line. One handles ar’right. Two best. Carries four’n parcels.” He chewed on the stick for a moment and then started off towards the moored boats. “Show’m to yer.”
Diana jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the open door. Garrison jumped at the elbow in his ribs, stepping back as Elana tried to steer him towards the doorway.
“Inside!” she hissed, and he stumbled in his hurried compliance.
Suppressing a sigh, Elana followed him in. Nonverbal cues were obviously not a part of his ‘vocabulary.’ Unfortunately, Garrison only knew Common. He was to appear to be a deaf and dumb slave; she winced to think of the added risk of exposure they were running, but it made sense, considering the soldiers were still looking for two, a Council Blue Sight and a scrawny Council Spirit.
The blackness within lifted as eyes adjusted. Elana breathed in the sweet scents of herb and stone grains. The place was much, much larger than the small exterior structure suggested as it was burrowed into the hillside; the thick, river-fed earth chilled the shelter almost to an iciness. Safe beneath the soil she sent her Sight searching. Like lost treasures to be caressed, she touched the food stocks and their sturdy life sources. Fondly her Sight went around stone and board to find the small burrowed creatures hidden in their slumbering, winter corners. The vibrant energy surged through her veins, and for the first time in what seemed a lifetime Elana drew the Mother’s precious life into her, unhindered by fear of discovery.
A well-shaped, generously plump woman appeared from the depths of a storage tunnel. Elana turned quickly to Paul, her back to the approaching figure. “Do not notice her. Merely take the goods.”
He gave the barest of nods as he continued to gaze over the top of Elana’s head. She had to credit him with some acting ability.
With a tentative smile of her own, Elana greeted the trader’s mala’, but said nothing. As Di’nay’s mala’, a brief acknowledgement of one another was expected. But Garrison was an attending slave and a male — his post was not as favored as that of a servant, but his authority was certainly above these two women. Without consciously understanding these distinctions, Garrison was adopting the image well. A little too well, Elana thought fleetingly as the man absently accepted the soft hide boots. Two servants appeared from the back, arms laden with fresh supplies and extra blankets, and her concentration bent towards their amarin. The burly pair seemed to ignore them, hurrying outside to join the trader at the landing, but Elana felt something odd as they passed. Not quite completely ignored, she realized suddenly and glanced at Paul.
His cloak!
Her jaw clenched. The bearded man had recognized the cloak. Maltar’s spies had come upriver in their hasty journey. It meant that the next scout back this way would be told of their visit. Or worse, if the price was handsome enough, the trader would send a runner out to find the commanding captain.
The mala’ reappeared with a tray of steaming wine. She set the mugs and a plate of cheesebread down on one of the smaller tables near the spice shelves. With a shy glance at Garrison, she disappeared again.
Elana was amused. The woman was attracted to the Terran… if she only knew.
That Di’nay had arranged for Paul’s boots and for their refreshments was worrisome — unusual behavior for most masters, although on longer journeys
a slave’s best behavior was often rewarded in small ways. Di’nay was using that custom now — a compromise between her personal integrity and the constraints of the situation.
The problem was that Elana had been identified as a Blue Sight at the Priory. If that had not happened they would not now be feigning this servitude. But traveling as a trio (instead of the expected twosome) had become a necessity, and in the end the wisdom of passing as the least significant of persons had seemed the safest since a wandering Council Blue Sight would not normally deign to be anything but a Seer’s apprentice, certainly not a slave. Elana bit into the hot, tangy bread. Her. Amazon would never be truly tolerant of any of Aggar’s social roles.
After knowing Di’nay, she too would never be as matter-of-factly comfortable with Aggar’s social structure. True, she had been raised to understand and even use the inequalities. The Council’s unspoken goal was for differing status one day not to matter. She was no longer as tolerant of that ‘one day’ proposition.
She sighed inwardly. She had never felt the pride for Aggar which Di’nay had for the Sisterhood. Had she ever actually been complacent about Aggar’s social order?
With a muffled exclamation Elana jumped from her seat, snatching the boot from Paul’s grasp. His foreignness was acutely visible in his fumbling attempt to don the floppy, calf-laced boot. She cursed herself for their carelessness as she knelt, hiding his clumsiness with a show of humble servitude. Fates’ Jest, couldn’t he have at least waited until they were away?
“Thank you,” he whispered as she finished one and reached for the other. “Awkward things, aren’t they?” Why couldn’t he keep quiet? All they needed was for his Common to be heard.
His good humor was not contagious; she merely jerked the leather laces tight. She was tempted to knot them too tight, but her common sense prevailed.
A shadow filled the entry way, and Elana felt Di’nay’s anger flood the room. Fingers snapped in command and, obedient to her part, Elana rose quickly, stepping aside. Ducking her head guiltily, she let Di’nay pass and followed her to a side corner. Her guilt was not quite an act; a piece of her was ashamed at allowing herself to be manipulated into such an awkward position. Given her blue-sighted sensitivities, she might have noticed Garrison’s intent earlier and warned him to wait.
“You are not his slave,” Diana hissed. Her dark eyes scanned the room; she was mindful of listeners. But they were alone.
“Later, please!” Elana whispered, tight-lipped. She resented the need to explain at all, but she was not about to do it here.
Without loosing an iota of her fuming anger, Diana switched smoothly. “The two loading our canoe are exceptionally nervous. Have you been close enough to them to get a sense of why?”
“Paul’s cloak was recognized. They know we’ve met the scouts.”
Diana drew her scattered thoughts together. They hadn’t actually been identified yet because of the cloak — a certain amount of trail bartering or brawling was common for travelers — but they had become a suspicious crew.
Diana faced Elana. “Two possibilities — ignore them and hope they don’t find anyone to talk with too soon — or bribe them. We could say we’re on King’s business. The Maltar isn’t so very well liked in this region, is he?”
“Not much,” Elana replied, but shook her head hesitantly.
“Nehna…?”
Elana smiled quickly, feeling Di’nay’s annoyance evaporate. “It is best not to speak of the Maltar or the King. Any freeman this far from a settlement would not want to appear to be taking sides, if he wished to live long.”
“Truth.”
“You might identify yourself as a Council’s man, Di’nay. They’re not known to be particularly involved with border disputes, although they often have secrets.”
“Would this trader be apt to hold silence then?”
“If paid well enough. In truth, he would probably assume we are not the twosome the scouts search for in any case. Unless he was directly asked about a Southern Trader with two slaves, he would not offer information.”
“If we do nothing would he not embroider the tale and see if he could wheedle a price for news of the cloak…?” Diana was not surprised to find herself suspicious of the old trader. The last five years had taught her much about the men who chose to live on the obscure crossroads. Whether they kept tavern inns or trading posts, greed was a primary motivator. In a village or well-traveled crossway, their goods and services would have gotten reasonable prices and trustworthy silences — or patrons went elsewhere. In the vastness of the wilderness, however, they had no such competition and so they demanded whatever price they willed. This old trader had been no different in bartering for the boat’s price, and Diana had no illusions about his ethics. But the Council was a different matter — and after hearing of the Beginnings, Diana could well understand why. The Council’s role was something of a Savior to these people, and one did not lightly betray one’s Savior.
“All right.” Diana pulled her purse from her jerkin pocket. “Gather up Garrison and take a look at the supplies they all loaded. I’m not so certain everything’s there. I’ll go have another talk with our host.”
† † †
Elana winced as the hull skidded off another rock. With a bump they hit the foaming waters again. But they were through the rapids quickly enough — for now. Another stretch awaited them around the bend, and further on, in a league or two there was nastier white water. She looked at Garrison’s slender back as he drove the paddle into the river again. She sighed; this is what happened when you gave an off-worlder a difficult task and no technology.
“Pull to shore!!” Di’nay’s sharp order carried well over the river’s rumble.
The Terran paused in mid-stroke, peering ahead at the shore line, then nodded. His paddle plunged downward, and Elana wondered at the odd twist of his wrist. It would appear that he used most of his energy doing nothing; but then she had guessed his inability was not solely due to prolonged imprisonment — despite his earlier words about boating skills.
The silence behind her was laced with fury. It was daunting even though it was directed elsewhere, and Elana simply made herself as small as possible amidst the bundled supplies. She was thankful that it had not been her incompetence that had guided them into the rocks so often. But then — she knew how to handle a boat.
The canoe scraped along the shallows, and Paul jumped out quickly, pulling them onto the brush-lined beach. One in his favor, Elana thought sourly. At least he wasn’t afraid to get his feet wet. The grim set to his jaw, however, did not reassure her as she stepped from the boat. Confrontations weren’t always productive, she knew — especially when Amazon temper and male ego were about to clash. But she was wiser than to try to interfere with this one.
“When was the last time you handled a boat?!” Diana shot, climbing out.
“Now we didn’t do so badly,” Paul offered in a forced, bantering sort of tone.
Wrong place to start, Elana noted and wandered off a few feet. The tension between the two was mounting with a gloomy force.
“We’re damned lucky we didn’t crack a seam!” Diana spat. “What in Goddess’ sight were you doing out there?!”
His mouth set, his back stiffened, and the Lieutenant met her gaze evenly. He was tired of playing second fiddle to this woman, but he was not going to give her the satisfaction of losing his temper either — let Elana see off-worlders were capable of civilized behavior despite what this one had shown her! With a tight-lipped restraint, he said, “I’ve been thoroughly checked out on all small water craft, n’Athena. Perhaps if the aft had been responding a little faster, we wouldn’t have been in trouble.”
The breath caught in Elana’s throat.
Diana stood frozen. Her voice suddenly rang out. “Elana! Take the front.”
Then the Amazon spun on her heel and disappeared into the forest. Diana hadn’t trusted herself to step back into the boat. She didn’t trust her tongue or her
temper. Swiftly she put distance between the man and herself, swearing silently. Z’ki Sak, Diana — how ignorant could she be! She’d never even questioned his casual assurances before they left the dock. Not exactly an appropriate place, in front of the trader and servants, she remembered. But it was her job to get them back safely. She should have asked him sooner! Last night — or sometime. Blast it. Elana could have been hurt — she could have been drowned — what the hell had she been thinking? Had she been thinking at all?!
† † †
Paul deposited an armload of firewood next to Elana, before he presented her with a handful of leafy greens. He’d barely spared Diana a word since the day’s fiasco on the river, but his charming attentions had been unfaltering towards Elana. Trying to dodge her own jealousy, she thought; it was fortunate someone could tolerate him. She was finding it more and more difficult herself.
“I thought you used these in the tea the other night.” Paul smiled graciously. “Was I right? Or have I threatened to poison us?”
Elana smiled vaguely; he knew he was right. “They are the same.”
Diana turned her back to the two of them at Elana’s faint smile. Games! How she hated his games.
From the corner of her eye, Elana saw Di’nay turn, and she felt her Amazon’s withdrawal. Forcing a brighter face, she asked Paul, “Could you find us some dry kindling? This is going to be difficult to light.”
He frowned, fingering the damp twigs and wood. “Don’t know if there is any. It’s been so wet.”
And it hadn’t helped anybody’s temper. “Try the lower branches. They should be dryer than those on the ground.”
“Good thought.” He nodded seriously. “I suppose we’ll need quite a lot — the wood will take its time catching.”
Whatever, Elana thought, wishing he would just leave. But he was already tromping off into the woods. She breathed a sigh of relief when he had moved out of hearing range.
Shadows of Aggar (Amazons of Aggar) Page 46
