by Doris Egan
"A little change never hurts. A person doesn't like it to be always their idea, it makes you wonder.'
"You know I'm generally inhibited."
"Oh, I know. In all sorts of ways."
I looked at him. "What does that mean?" I'd once had a similar diagnosis from an itinerant monk. That had irritated me, too.
"Nothing," he said, like one who's opened a door he meant to pass by. He got up, came around behind me, and kissed me on the neck. "You've come a long way for a barbarian."
"No, wait a minute, for once I'd like to knoW just what people mean when they tell me—"
"Did you know tonight's the moon-and-a-half?"
My thoughts transferred at once to the more immediate highway. "Are you sure?"
"The second of our four nights. We'll be half-wed, my tymon, if nothing goes wrong."
Getting married by degrees isn't as frightening as doing it all at once. I'm not sure I could have handled it the other way. Aloud, I said, "And I don't know if we're going to manage the cakes."
"You mean you don't know how we're going to manage the cakes. It's a question of strategy, not of choice."
"You know, you and Stereth really do have a lot in common."
He gave me a hurt look and said, "There's a larder in the cookhouse. Steal from it when you get the chance."
Which leads logically to that awful moment in the afternoon when I found myself on trial. Ran came running into the cookhouse when he heard about it, along with half a dozen of the band.
Juvindeth and Clintris had me standing against the wall, both their knives out, looking very unfriendly. Carabinster-eth came in just behind Ran, still puffing, and gasped out, "What happened?"
Juvindeth's eyes narrowed in my direction, but before she could speak Clintris said, "She was stealing from the stores. She's running out on us."
Juvindeth added, "And you know she'd never make it out of the Sector without turning us in."
Carabinstereth looked at me reproachfully. I was beginning to grasp how Ran must have felt that time he was
accused of stealing from the family treasury. I said, "I just wanted some food. Is that a capital crime?"
I immediately wished I hadn't phrased it that way.
Juvindeth said, "Where's Stereth?"
Lex na'Valory answered her. "He's gone with Grateth and Des on an errand."
"What of it?" asked Clintris. "Why wait?"
"Good point," agreed Lex.
Why did I have to draw this group? Clintris and Lex would've been at home in the arena, thumbing-down every passing gladiator. I said, "I want to see Stereth."
"I don't give a pile of kanz what you want," began Lex, but Ran interrupted.
"When did you get put in charge? This isn't your decision."
Carabinstereth jumped in before Lex could have one of his fits. "It's true, it's her right. We'll wait for Stereth."
You have appealed to Stereth. Unto Stereth… But why should he look any more kindly on the situation? This was a postponement, not a commutation.
Lex muttered, "Sokol's her damned boyfriend. If she's dead, he won't have anybody to put it to. Why should we listen to him?"
"He probably put her up to it," said Juvindeth.
"Yeah, would she be cutting out alone? Turn out his pockets, too." Lex saw the look on Ran's face and broke into a wide grin.
Enough. I yelled, "All right! I was stealing from the damned stores. Gods, haven't I put up with enough? Do we have to drag my personal life into this?"
Their faces turned to me, taken aback by the outburst. I'm not given to outbursts generally, and I've found that when I do succumb they seem to have twice the effect. I could see them wondering, What does she have to be angry at us for?
"Tonight's the moon-and-a-half! Sokol and I were going to be half-married! First you kidnap us, and then when we try to have the ceremony anyway you threaten to kill me! This was supposed to be our honeymoon!"
Ran must have agreed it was a little late to deny it. He didn't say anything. There was total silence among the
group, and then Carabinstereth asked in a small voice, "What was she stealing?"
Juvindeth said uncertainly, "Eggs. And flour."
"Flour?" Carabinstereth glared at her. "Are you out of your mind? What would she be doing with flour on the road? She might as well bring along mud!"
Juvindeth looked down at the floor, humiliated.
"What a group!" Carabinstereth cast a general hard look around at everyone. "May the gods witness what I put up with. I see where Stereth gets his gray hairs."
Lex began, "I don't see how I was supposed to know—"
"Shut up," said Carabinstereth. "Go back to the main hall and get some cloaks and pillows. Clintris, fire up the oven. Juvie, you're going to come with me over to Barine Hill. —Lex, what are you waiting for? Unless you want Stereth to hear every stupid thing that went on here today—"
Lex vanished. She turned to me. "Please overlook this unfortunate incident. Would you mind waiting in the main hall? I'll be with you shortly."
I'd had no idea Carabinstereth could call up a courtly accent like that. It must be from her bodyguard days. Ran seemed even more eager to leave than I was; he took hold of my sleeve and drew me out into the dull plateau sunlight.
I glanced back at the stone dome of the cookhouse. The clanging sound of the ancient oven starting up came from within. I found I was weaker than I'd thought, and took hold of Ran's arm.
"You know, I wasn't sure I was going to get out of that room."
"I kept looking at the cleavers," he confessed. "I'm not sure I'll ever feel the same way about kitchens again."
"We're really in serious trouble here, aren't we? I don't mean today. I mean, being with the band."
He put an arm around my shoulders. "Come on, tymon. It's the moon-and-a-half. Even if we can't do the ritual."
We stayed in the main hall, lying on the cushions like invalids, while Lex gathered things up around us and muttered to himself.
* * *
A hand on my shoulder woke me from a light doze. It was Carabinstereth. I sat up and looked around at the dim hall; it must be dark outside already.
"Come on, Tymon, into your things." She held out a colored robe and I got into it sleepily. Outlaws were always sharing clothing; you took what was clean and didn't make a fuss.
"It's silk," I said in surprise, when I felt it on my skin.
"Cobatree silk," she said. "Best in the world. Better than that stuff that comes out of worms."
She was leading me across the hall to the door. "What's going on?" I asked. "Where's R—… Sokol?"
"He's just excellent, little barbarian. Shake the sleep out of your head. Rub those funny-looking eyes."
"You're a fine one to talk about eyes." Her own jeweled irises glowed in the dark like a satisfied cat's.
We crossed the rough grass, cold against my feet. "You didn't give me time to put on my boots."
"We're not going far." We came to one of the monastery's smaller buildings and she kicked the doorstep with the edge of her boot. The door was opened by Mora So-bien Ti.
"Did she finally wake up?" asked Mora, the edges of her mouth curved in a gentle smile.
"This slug?" inquired Carabinstereth. "I poured icewater on her."
Mora drew me in, kissed me, and went out the door. They closed it behind them. I turned and saw a single stone room, a half-missing ceiling open to moonlight, and a wealth of cushions, cloaks, and silken bolts of color. A small oil lamp was set in one wall. Bits of crumbled green were scattered on the floor, releasing an earthy scent: Night-gathered herbs from Barine Hill. An old wooden shutter, carefully cleaned, had been set in the middle of the room as a tray, and two round cakes were on it. The symbol for "tymon" was painted on the wood by one cake, and the symbol for "anonymous" was by the other.
"They said they were careful to make them from the ingredients each of us stole."
A bundle of shadows by the far wall moved, and
Ran stood up. He spread his hands to indicate the pirate para-
dise* around us. "Well," he said, "this is a little embarrassing."
I think I've already mentioned the sudden veers into sentiment true Ivorans will make. There is nothing more typical than their practical bloodthirstiness of this afternoon and their advancement of love's cause tonight. Ran told me, with a trace of discomfort, how Lex and Carabinstereth had supervised his washing and choice of clothing, and how Lex had doused him in perfume.
"It's an awful brand," he said, "but I couldn't tell them no. They were absolutely fixed on it."
"I like the smell."
He shook his head. "Barbaric taste. But what can we expect?"
We snuggled down onto a pile of cloaks. "Like nesting waterbirds," I said. Moonlight poured over the room.
"Um. I only hope it doesn't rain."
Late the next morning Ran and I walked over the grounds toward the main building. I still needed some sandals or boots; the grass was cold. Not the crew, though— Grateth passed us on a silver-furred mount, heading toward the track that led out of the valley, and he ducked his head in salute, smiling shyly. There was friendly chatter from a group clearing up the remains of the breakfast fire. Some of them waved to us.
Clintris and Mora smiled as they went by, and Clintris called, "We've saved you breakfast."
"We didn't want to interrupt you," said Mora. "Tab. and fried bread, in the cookhouse, whenever you want it."
They went on. Ran was quiet, even unhappy-looking this morning.
"They're embarrassed about yesterday," I said, with some surprise. "They like us."
"Wonderful," he said, seeming, if anything, more depressed than ever.
"Take a walk with me," Ran said, about an hour later.
I'd been taking a nap in the dimness of the main building. I got up, puzzled, and followed him out to the grounds, past the spot where Clintris na'Fli had drawn such spectacular
attention to us. I assumed he wanted to speak to me privately, but when we crossed the wall and kept going, a good sixty meters past the stones, I stopped abruptly. Ran still hadn't spoken. I said, "What are you doing? The lookout will have them all after us! I'd rather not have to defend myself again, you know—yesterday was bad enough."
He pulled me on. "Lazarin's the lookout today, and with Stereth away he decided to join Des in a card game on the roof. Neither of them are paying more than occasional attention to the view."
I snatched my arm away. "Are you crazy? This is supposed to be it? Our great escape, in broad daylight? Where's your waterbag—"
He was forced to stop. "Stereth will be back this afternoon, we won't get another chance. We'll have to do what we can for water in Kynogin—"
"Where everybody will recognize you as Stereth Tar'krim!"
I swiveled my head back as I argued; the fort was lazy today, without Stereth to push it along—people were indoors napping, playing games, doing a lick or two of work in desultory fashion. Ran was right, there would probably never be less attention paid to us than now. But what difference did that make, if we couldn't get off the Plateau?
He said, "I'll stay hidden in Kynogin while you bargain for transport."
"Hidden where? Bargain with what? Did you pack up your gold tabals on the way out of the fort?"
"We don't have a choice! So come on."
He made the mistake of reaching for my arm again, and I stepped back. "Why are you so determined to clear out today? Why don't we have a choice? Ran, what have you done?"
"What have I done? What have you done!"
We faced each other. "Want to tell me what you mean by that?"
He waited stubbornly, not answering, then looked back toward the fort. Time was not on his side. He said, "Theodora, you're losing your edge."
"What the hell does that mean! When did I become a piece of cutlery?"
"This is what I'm talking about. You're not seeing these people in the proper light at all any more. Stereth sends
you riding off with Des on missions, and you come back lit up like the fountains on the Imperial grounds. You're enjoying yourself, Theodora."
It might have made a better argument if we didn't each have to keep whipping our heads around to make sure we weren't being watched. "I eat cold, greasy animal-corpse meat for breakfast, I sleep on a blanket on hard stone, there isn't anything to read for kilometers, and you tell me I'm enjoying myself. Well, I'm glad you let me know. Next time tell me sooner!"
"You like these adrenaline rushes, Theodora, I've noticed that before."
"Look who's criticizing! The man who patented the adrenaline rush and introduced it to the masses! I didn't know what physical danger was till I met you—" I was starting to sputter, so I took a deep breath. "Anyway, this has nothing to do with choosing a logical time to escape."
He bit his lip. "It does if I'm losing my partner."
"What?"
"You like these people."
I stared at him. "You say it like an accusation."
"What else?" His eyes looked back at me with hopelessness and rare anger. "You're not an outworlder anymore, you're a Cormallon!"
"Look, if you tell me what I am one more time—"
Suddenly he put his hand on my arm, in an entirely different way than before. I glanced around quickly. Cara-binstereth was walking toward us, through the damp grass.
We waited till she reached us. She looked from my face to Ran's, then said, "This is why I never got married." She scuffed a boot in the dirt, and without any blame in her tone whatsoever, she said, "In the heat of battle you probably didn't notice, but you've come a little far from the wall. People are edgy with Stereth away, so I wonder if—as a favor to me—you'd come back in closer."
"Battle" was a strong word. Or maybe it wasn't. We accompanied her in, past the crumbling stone wall, an uncomfortable silence among the three of us. I'm not one of those people who enjoy a full-blown argument. I hate them. I felt as though I'd eaten too much and then done too many push-ups. As though I'd been squeezed dry. As though I
had to move slowly and carefully, or something awful would happen, to my body or my life.
"And what did I miss?" asked Stereth the next day, as he handed his mount over to Lex.
"Uhh…" said Lex, looking toward Carabinstereth.
"Nothing of interest," she said. "How was your errand?"
"Let me tell you," he began, and they walked together into the main fort.
Lex shrugged in the direction of Ran and me, and took the mount away.
Stereth's errand had taken him and his two most valuable lieutenants to almost every farm and ranch in the surrounding area. Between Stereth's reputation, Des' charm, and Grateth's solid, competent presence—not to mention the gold Stereth freely handed out—the success of his treaty project was complete. Or nearly complete, anyway; the Pemhostil Ranch, the largest of all, refused to even talk with them.
Stereth wasn't put out. "Good," he said simply. "We're parasites. We need to live off somebody."
That night he added, "But we're going to be busy in future. We'd better stock up now—cattle, mounts, whatever we need. And it'll be a good object lesson for the other respectable citizens; they'll be glad they signed with us."
"You want to raid Pemhostil," said Carabinstereth.
"Tonight," he agreed.
Pemhostil covered a wide range of territory—enough so that outbuildings were scattered here and there, housing employees paid to protect the stock. Cormallon covered twice as much ground, but it was so safe there that a similar outbuilding had been designated for Kylla to use as a retreat, when she wanted to be alone. Lacking the Cormallon barrier, the Pemhostils provided their people with weapons, and sent them out in numbers.
By now, however, Stereth's band had left off any vestiges of democracy, or even anarchy, that it might have pretended to. If Stereth thought it was a good idea to invade Pemhostil, they were willing to oblige.
A night of nerves, hard riding, and confusion
; shouted
orders under the full and half-moons. Stereth had everyone turned out, knived, booted, with dark jackets to make us harder to see—we were going to survive for a long time on what we took from this raid, he said. Fires were set in Pemhostil, to draw out the people and to drive the steer-mods where we wanted them to go. I've forgotten many of the details of those chaotic few hours, but I remember being aware at one point of Ran on a gray and black-furred mount, just over my left shoulder. Cattle swirled in a torrent around us. I pointed back to where the nearest outbuilding stood on a hill, its windows lit with yellow lights, its open doorway a square of yellow-against the blackness.
"What happened to the people that lived here?" I yelled.
"What do you think happened to them?" Ran called back, annoyed with me, himself, and the world. He turned the mount around with difficulty and spurred it toward the knot of companions on the burning horizon.
What did I think happened to them? I echoed. The ranch was alive with the lowing of cattle and the crackle of fire. This was Ivory, not Sherwood Forest.
Chapter Twelve
I know. I was the one who told him about Robin Hood.
The Pemhostils were maddened, naturally, but they got no sympathy from their neighbors, which was perhaps one of the points Stereth wanted to make. There was always the danger that one of our new allies would prefer the exorbitant profit of turning in Stereth Tar'krim to being a silent partner of his band; but as Des pointed out, they would have to locate him first, and then balance the promise of more money to come from the band's Sector activity versus the amount of the bounty—and the certainty of outlaw retribution.
It was all very civilized. We'd been sweeping out the hall and laying the table for hours. Napkins and tah cups were at hand, sparkling clean, and Lex and Komo were discreetly placed at corners with a view of the yard, holding a rifle and pistol respectively. Finally, ten mounts rode onto the fort grounds, led by a dried-up little man with an intense expression and a young woman in a black jacket, her hair pinned up like a lady of the capital.
"Marainis Cho," Des told me, nodding toward the woman. Never-Too-Late. "I wouldn't mind making her close acquaintance. Dramonta's a pig, though."
