Marie's Tale: A Colplatschki Novella

by Alma Boykin

  His smile died when she said, “And then I’m going into the ruins.” The little muscles along the side of his jaw jumped under the dark tan skin. After ten years of marriage and an additional five years of his serving as her chief aid, Elizabeth knew that twitch very well—he wanted to argue, but wouldn’t with the troopers around and within hearing distance. Instead he frowned, then returned to checking his orders before summoning a runner to take them to the other officers. But, she realized as she drifted to sleep, he had not protested, either.

  Instead, she found him waiting with Square the next morning. “Your grace, if you still desire to reconnoiter that ridge for artillery, perhaps it would be best to go now? The lighting will not improve as the day passes.”

  Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “An excellent thought, Colonel. You got a better sense of conditions yesterday than I was able to.” She checked Square’s girth, making certain he’d been deflated when the groom tightened it, then accepted one of the horse tender’s assistance mounting. I don’t need help, but I certainly appreciate it. Lazlo swung onto Blaze’s back and led the way, since he’d been able to reconnoiter the area more thoroughly. She noticed that none of her guards had fallen in behind them, but didn’t say anything. Hell, we’ll be in sight of camp. Godown forbid, but if Lazlo and I can’t run fast enough to get back to the perimeter before we’re in trouble, having guards won’t save us.

  The sun already seemed intent on turning the water-white sky into a steam-bath. “I realize that it grows warmer the farther south one goes, my lady,” Lazlo complained, “but this is a excessive.”

  “I concur, Colonel.” She guided Square around an outcrop that shaded the trail, watchful for snakes. He did not care for snakes, she’d discovered. He vigorously, loudly, and with great enthusiasm hated snakes, he refused to remain anywhere near them, and had dumped his rider in order to make a faster departure. She’d landed hard on her rump, raising a cloud of dust.

  The heat drained her of both energy and intelligence. Cold weather made her cranky, especially if she had to be out in the wet, but the heat and humidity left her flat. She’d be glad to cross over the so-called Searange Mountains and get back to drier, windier land. Square walked on and Blaze clopped behind.

  After a kilometer she stopped. “This looks suitable.” She dismounted and started looking at the ground, pacing off the length and breadth of the flat area. “Ground’s firm, not too many small rocks.”

  Lazlo dismounted as well and tied Blaze to a large shrub. He pulled a pinch of grass and tossed it to check the wind. Nothing: the stems fluttered straight down. “Unless there’s a thunderstorm, my lady, this is quite suitable.”

  Elizabeth pulled her binoculars out of a saddlebag and swept the horizon, careful to avoid the still-low sun. “Nothing within counterbattery range at this elevation, either.” The ridge sloped more gently to the west, but looked rugged enough to make an advance under the guns a challenge. Rumpled blue in the distance showed the back of the Searange and the western border of the Magwi’s home territory. “We’ll definitely add this to our maps.” Lazlo grunted his agreement. Then she trained her glasses on the remains of the city. “I wonder what it was like.”

  She could see what appeared to be straight roads, with the remains of buildings along them, interspersed with some brush, grass, and a few ambitious trees. Bits of shiny gleamed in the sun, and a few of the structures appeared to still have enormous panes of glass in their walls. The haze hid the distance, but she thought she could see a river on the other side of the grey and white sprawl. How many people had lived there? How had they fed themselves? Had they brought their food in from beyond the stars? Or had the fabulous farming machines of legend helped them grow more than her people could? If that was a river in the distance, it explained why the city sat in the broad plain between the hills. The Donau Novi ran on the other side of the hills to the east—was there a matching city there? Her heart started racing at the thought.

  “I want to get closer.”

  Her husband sighed. “Very well, your grace. Just remember that we have to come back up to reach camp.”

  They rode down the ridge, following a trail that grew wider and smoother as they went. A third of the way down from the crest of the ridge, it joined an even better, black-paved road. It had to be Lander work, and Elizabeth fought the urge to bounce in the saddle with excitement. They soon reached the foot of the ridge, not far from the first ruins. Elizabeth urged Square on. Lazlo remained behind.

  She turned back. “Just a little farther,” she urged. “We’re already here.”

  He’d gone pale under his tan. “No, my lady my love.” He shook his head. “It’s not right to go farther in. Leave the dead alone, please.” He sounded fearful, in a way she’d never heard before.

  “What’s wrong, love?” She stopped Square so she faced Lazlo. “We’ve poked around little Lander sites before, and you’ve never complained about living in Donatello Manor’s house, or Starheart,” both built into Lander walls. “You touch my treasures and trinkets without harm.”

  He shook his head. “Those are dead. These,” Lazlo made St. Kiara’s flame, warding off the air around them, “These are still alive. There’s too much danger here, to body and soul, my lady. You may be strong enough to resist it, but I’m not.”

  She nudged her mule, and Square sidestepped, giving himself enough room to turn around to face the city once more. “Would you come if I ordered you to?”

  Lazlo choked out, “I don’t want—, yes. Yes, I would follow.”

  Elizabeth started to order him to come with her, then stopped short. A little voice whispered, Is it worth this? Is a dead city worth Lazlo’s heart? She wouldn’t go very far, just to that first taller building. And she wouldn’t dismount. She wouldn’t be in danger: any animals would leave them alone, and they’d be safe if they stayed out of the crumbling buildings. He won’t follow unless you order him, and then he’d come as colonel, not as husband. Is it worth it? Of course it was! She’d always dreamed of finding another Lander horde like the mining machine, and she’d keep on the pave, not go wandering off and possibly hurt Square or fall into a hole. What Elizabeth can do, War Duchess von Sarmas can’t. Don’t tempt your men, don’t abandon your duties. She wasn’t doing either. They’d taken a rest day, none of the men would see her, and Lazlo could keep his mouth shut. None of the men followed St. Mou. None that you know of, Duchess. And people besides St. Mou’s followers fear the Landers and their remains. Why else do you keep that case locked and out of sight? Because her trinkets were valuable. Is it worth Lazlo’s heart? The little voice asked again and again.

  At last, as Square chewed his bit and her husband sat motionless, his horse stamping and swishing flies, she decided. Elizabeth bowed her head, tapped Square with her riding stick, and ordered, “Back to camp, Col. Destefani.” I admire the Landers and I want to learn from them, but I love you and the Empire more.

  “Very well, my lady.” They stopped again just below the crest of the ridge, and turned their beasts for one last look at the ghost city. Lazlo reached over and took her stick hand, bending low and kissing it. “Thank you.”

  I love you more. “You are welcome, Col. Destefani.” Her voice warmed the official words, and he smiled for the first time since they’d left camp.