by John Ringo
On the other hand, it was easier to follow the young man than to take directions if he was behind her.
They turned down a side corridor and entered another narrow spiral staircase. Baradur grabbed a torch just as they entered the black maw of the doorway so she could partially see where she was going. The stairwell could best be described as “dank” and she wondered at the amount of slime that was on the walls.
“Can I ask a question?” she said as she slipped the second time and bumped into the young man in front of her.
“Yes, of course, mistress.”
“I’ve been in historical castles before; they were never this…”
“Worn?” the man laughed. “Mistress, there are nearly a hundred people packed inside these walls. That many people in an area like this leads to all sorts of nastiness. We’ve had people come down with fungal infections. And there’s nothing we could do, even if we had the time, about stuff like this mold. Cleaning these steps would be a job for bleach. Do you know how to make bleach, mistress?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Megan chuckled, “I do. But I take your point. For that matter, I know some medicinal chemistry. I’m not sure if I should leave.”
“Mistress, if you could help that would be great,” the guard said, his voice curiously muffled. “But you need to get to somewhere decent as fast as possible. This is no place for a council member. You can do us much more good presenting our case to those bastards in Norau that don’t lift a finger to help us. We’ve been fighting Paul’s forces almost since the Fall and the only help we’ve gotten is from the Finn, who just told the New Destiny bastards that they can’t use power.”
He turned as they reached a mostly empty storeroom at the bottom and looked her in the eye.
“I don’t know at what point the Finn will decide that we’re not ‘neutral,’ ” the young man said, shaking his head. “But I don’t really care. When you’ve seen one of your best friends dying from not having a decent doctor it’s hard to care about ‘the big picture.’ We need help, mistress, while there’s anyone left to help.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Megan said. “While I’m here and when I’ve gotten to Norau.”
“Thank you, mistress,” the young man said, gesturing to a door on the far side of the storeroom. “This way.”
“How many people have you lost?” Megan asked as the soldier opened the door.
“I don’t really know,” he admitted. “More guys trickle in from further up the highlands all the time. Right now we’ve got about thirty fighters here at the Clan and Innes has about a hundred. We had about eighty at one point. Some of them got killed, some drifted away. We don’t hold a boy that’s seen the war and decided it’s not for him. He’ll find someplace in the hills and make a farm and send us what he can. But if he hasn’t the stomach to stand the orcs then I don’t want him on my shoulder.”
In the next room there were a few people sleeping, most of them women, girls really, two of them curled up with a young man about the age of the soldier. The others were curled up with each other, huddling under fewer blankets than there were bodies. They tiptoed through lightly, trying not to wake any of the sleepers.
The next room was well lit with torches along the walls and a dying fire in a large fireplace. From the utensils lining the walls, the large kettle in the fireplace and the tables, Megan suspected she had found the castle kitchens. And most of the girls from the harem were there. As she entered conversation stopped.
“I take it there’s some problem?” she asked, looking at the faces. Shanea was standing with her arms folded next to an older woman Megan didn’t recognize. Amber was on the other side of the woman with most of the girls Megan had brought arranged in a semicircle opposite the trio. Mirta was standing off to one side, watching. In addition to the “girls” and some women that, from their clothing and mostly angry expressions she suspected were native to the castle, there was a tall, incredibly tall, woman who appeared to have fully functional wings.
“Megan, it’s bloody freezing in here and they tell us there aren’t enough clothes or blankets to go around,” Ashly said, angrily. She had her arms folded as well and Megan suddenly realized it was less a defensive stance than against the cold; she was still wearing only the brief clothing she had been wearing in the escape and she was shivering in the cold. Despite the fire that had, apparently, been burning in the fireplace, the room was bitterly cold. Megan realized that none of them were wearing more and she suddenly felt uncomfortable in the heavy fur robe that McClure had thrown over her shoulders.
“From what I’ve seen it’s true,” Megan said, taking off the robe. She immediately felt the biting cold of the room and regretted the gesture. But she didn’t put the robe back on. “You should look in the next room.”
“Mistress Travante, I’m Flora McClure,” the older woman said, stepping forward with her hand out. The woman was small and slender to the point of emaciation. “Jock’s wife. For some reason he didn’t think we needed to be introduced,” the woman added, acerbically.
“I suspect he’s going to regret that,” Megan said with a grin. “Look, Ashly, the rest of you, I had planned on going to Norau. That didn’t work out. We’re here and we’re damned well not going back. If any of you think you’ll be better off with the New Destiny legions, from what I hear they’re no more than a half day’s walk.” She looked around at the girls and then snorted. “That’s what I thought. We’re here. Until we can get picked up we’re going to have to make the best of it. Now, Flora, what can we do to help?”
“There’s not much we can do, now, about clothing and blankets,” Flora said, shaking her head. “We make sure each of the soldiers has a blanket and their cloak; they’ve often got to fight out in the wet and sleep out in it besides. But we only have the wool to make cloth with, and not much of that. We shear in the spring and what we get then is it. Most of it is woven by now and it’s all in use. I’ve scrounged up a few blankets by taking them from other women; now they’re without. I’ll see what I can find in the way of clothing in the morning. That cloak you have Jock traded for and it’s the only one like it in the castle; there aren’t many fur-bearing animals up here in the highlands.”
“We’ll manage, Megan,” Amber said. “We’ll sleep in a pile with as many blankets as Flora can scrounge.”
“This is going to kill my baby,” Vera said.
Megan noted that the baby had been wrapped up in scraps of wool and shook her head. “Flora, can the pregnant women and the ones with children, at least, be put near a fire?”
“They can, but we can’t keep it burning all night,” Flora sighed. “We’ve got to cut the wood by hand, you know. And the wood gathering parties have to be protected from raids by the Changed. I was going to put them by the fireplace; it will stay warmer there longer. But we can’t keep the fire burning.” She paused and shrugged. “Most of the women sleep in here anyway; it’s warmer than just about anywhere else.”
“This is warm?” Ashly snapped.
“Yes, it is,” Flora said, giving her a hard look. “Especially the stones right around the fire. It’s a privilege to sleep by the fireplace in Castle McClure, missy. One that we’re ceding to you, as guests. Just as we’re not making you wash up from dinner, tonight. But tomorrow night, I don’t care who your friends are, you’re by God going to help or you’ll be put outside the walls and find out what real hardship is.”
There was a murmur of agreement from the women gathered behind her and Megan grasped Ashly’s arm as the woman opened her mouth to retort.
“Ashly, a moment of your time?” Megan said, smiling in a friendly manner as her fingers closed on a nerve point in the woman’s upper arm.
“Sure, Megan,” Ashly said, grimacing.
Megan drew her aside far enough away that she might not be overheard.
“Ashly, we’re dependent upon these people for the next few days, until a ship comes,” Megan whispered, fiercely. “And they don’t have any more
to give. Bitching about it isn’t going to get us anything but problems. And if you make enough problems I’ll let them pitch you out in the snow. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Megan, but listen to me,” Ashly said, her face working as she tried to marshal her thoughts. “These people have been living in this for years. They’re used to it. They don’t like it but they can survive it. We’re not used to it and I’m not sure we can survive it. There is such a thing as dying of hypothermia.”
“Like she said, huddle up together,” Megan replied. “I’ll try to get you all close to the fire.” She paused and then nodded at an inner thought. “I can expend some energy, enough to make sure that the babies and the pregnant women stay warm. If I can figure out a program to use. But quit bitching, okay? We’ve got to work the problem, not make new ones. And, tomorrow, we’re obviously going to be put to work. Make sure that the other girls don’t decide that’s beneath them, clear?”
“Yes,” Ashly sighed. “I almost said I wish I was back in the harem. But I don’t. I didn’t like being there, either, Megan.”
“It will be better when we get to Norau,” Megan promised, then frowned. “One question, are you having problems with the men?”
“Not since the scene in the hall,” Ashly said. “I think they’re petrified of you.”
“What the girls want to do is up to them,” Megan said. “But it’s up to them. Let them make up their own minds. I doubt that Shanea would blink at sharing a blanket with one of the soldiers.”
“I’m not so sure,” Ashly said with a grin. “They really smell.”
“I think we’ll get used to it.” Megan frowned. “I need to talk to Flora now. Work the problem, Ashly, don’t be one.”
“Got it.”
“Flora,” Megan said, walking back over to the group, “Ashly makes the valid point that we’re not adjusted to this temperature. Nor are we dressed for it. I’m going to expend a small amount of power to make sure that none of them go into hypothermia. But we’re going to need to get more supplies. Do any of the surrounding clans have spare material?”
“Not much,” Flora said, frowning. “And I hadn’t really thought about the fact that you’re not used to it, although the clothing was pretty obvious.” She made a grimace at that and Megan had to drown an angry reaction.
“We didn’t choose how we dressed,” Megan said, admitting that they did but not the general form. “What I was thinking is that I have a small amount of power that I can expend. I could probably do something for the other clans if they could come up with some blankets and clothes. Anything would be preferable to this,” she added, gesturing at her own clothing.
“Agreed,” Flora said, glancing at the soldier that had accompanied Megan to the kitchen who was discreetly eyeing the wide selection of female flesh on display. “If for no other reason than to keep the young bucks from rioting.”
“That too,” Megan said, frowning. “Given where we’ve just come from I’m going to put this as delicately as possible. Bed the babies and their mothers by the fireplace. The rest of you snuggle in as close as possible and use all the blankets that we can get. But if any of the girls want to share a blanket with one of the soldiers, I’m not going to raise any fuss. As long as it’s the girl’s choice.”
“I won’t mind,” Shanea said, winking at Megan’s escort.
“I’m on duty,” the young man replied, blushing. “But… I get off in a couple of hours.”
“Well, I don’t know about getting off,” Shanea said with a grin, “but we might see what can be arranged.”
“Behave,” Megan said, frowning. “It better be clear that it has to be willing bedding and I will have the balls of anyone that takes advantage.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Flora said.
“I’m going to bed here,” Amber said, her face working. “I think I’ve had all of men I can handle for a while.”
“That’s settled then,” Megan said, wiping her face. “Flora, is there somewhere we can talk? I know it’s late…”
“No, not a problem,” Flora said. “The rest of you get some sleep, early day tomorrow. Earlier than you’re probably used to.” She gestured at the cloak that Megan had set on one of the tables. “Take that.”
“They can use it down here,” Megan protested.
“Be damned,” Flora said, definitely. “Take itÑwhere we’re going it’s colder.”
Megan put the cloak back on and then, trailed by Baradur and the soldier, followed Flora out of the kitchen and up more of the interminable stairs and down corridors until they reached a small room. It was set up as an office and it was pretty clear that it was Flora’s sanctum.
“You two can wait out here,” Flora said, gesturing at the -corridor.
“Yes, mistress,” Baradur said, taking up a position by the door.
“Thank you for intervening,” Flora said, sitting in her chair and rubbing her face. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t. You make a good point that we’re more used to the cold…”
“It is horrible isn’t it?” Megan said. “It almost feels worse than being outside.”
“It’s the stone walls,” Flora said, shrugging. “And the lack of heat. I should have handled it better but that Ashly…”
“Ashly is… Ashly,” Megan said, shrugging. “She puts on airs like a queen.”
“But you don’t,” Flora noted. “And you’re the closest thing to it that Clan McClure has seen.”
“All I am is a Key-holder,” Megan protested. “I don’t even know how to use it properly. I talk about doing healing, but I don’t really know how.”
“Well, the last bad injury we had died last week,” Flora said. “But I’ll send out runners to Innes tomorrow and find out if they have anything to trade. And anyone who needs healing. In the meantime you can be figuring out how to do it,” she added with a faint smile. “With more mouths to feed and clothes to make from whatever cloth we can get, there’s going to be work to do. I won’t get any trouble out of your girls from it, will I?”
“Not much,” Megan said. “As long as Ashly goes along, and she will or I’ll tear a strip off of her. I tried to put Mirta in charge but she’s not willing to put herself forward. Amber might, but she’s… that’s a long story. She’s having a hard enough time putting her head back together I guess. And Christel stayed behind. I suspect that was a bad choice on her part.” She frowned at a memory. “Who was that bird woman? Is she one of yours?”
“No,” Flora admitted. “She turned up here just a couple of days ago. She’s apparently a courier of some sort for the UFS. They couldn’t pick her up so they told her to come here and wait for a ship. We do have some contact with the UFS. Not much, and not much in the way of help. But they’ve dropped off supplies before.”
“I’ll see what I can do about getting you more support when I get to Norau,” Megan said, yawning. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s been a long day for all of us,” Flora said. “And tomorrow’s probably going to be longer. Go get some rest.”
“I’ll do that,” Megan said. “Thanks for this talk. It helped.” She looked thoughtful and then shrugged. “Getting all my news from Paul sometimes I felt like despairing; everything seemed to be falling New Destiny’s way. I’m glad there are some people who aren’t willing to just roll over for them, no matter how bad it gets.”
“You’re welcome,” Flora chuckled. “We’ll beat these New Destiny bastards yet.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Megan patted the horse warily and nodded at it as it turned its head and snuffled at her. It already had a saddle and other bits attached. But getting up in the saddle was going to be difficult and she had no idea what to do after that. The horse turned again and blew into her hair.
“That’s a good horse,” she said, wiping at the moisture and then dodging as it lipped at her cloak. “Good… horse.”
“Don’t worry, mistress,” one of the grooms said, comi
ng over to help her. “Ever ridden a horse before?”
“No,” Megan admitted.
“You know that thing about ‘men are from Mars, women from Venus?’ ” the groom asked, cupping his hands. “Just grab on the bottom of the mane, there, mistress, and pull yourself up. Well, this here’s a gelding, Broomy’s his name. Stallions are from Mars, sure enough, most of them will take your arm off just for a joke. And mares, they’re from Venus, except they’re not constant by any measure. Sweet as honey one day and throwing you in the air the next. But geldings, well, geldings they’re from Heaven, mistress. And Broomy’s the heavenliest one of them all.”
As he talked the groom had expertly heaved her onto the gelding’s back and adjusted the stirrups for her shorter legs. Then he showed her how to hold the reins.
“You’ll be following the others, mistress,” the groom continued, walking the horse out of the three-corner shed and into the cloudy dawn. “Broomy will follow right along. You’ll get the hang of it no time at all. The laird won’t be going fast. Might trot and that takes a bit of getting used to. Just lift up in the stirrups and hang on the mane, then. Canter, now, canter’s more comfortable than a trot but it can be scary. Seems fast to go so close to the ground and so far away if you get my drift.”
“I’m afraid I will,” Megan said as the other riders gathered. Most of them looked much more sure of themselves on horseback and all of them were armed. Megan suddenly realized that she didn’t have as much as a belt knife and wasn’t sure what they would say if she asked for a sword. Nor did she know what she would use it for. Her father had trained her in hand-to-hand combat, but he’d taught her nothing about projectile weapons or edged. For that matter, based on the motley collection of weapons McClure’s best carried, she was pretty sure there weren’t any to go around. Most of the group was armed with long spears that had the look of hasty craftsmanship. McClure had his big axe hanging from the saddle and a spear in his hand. His son bore a very long sword, immensely long with room for two hands on the pommel. He was a big guy but she wondered if he really could use something that size.
