The Temple at Landfall

by Jane Fletcher

  “Hey, you shouldn’t be doing that.”

  Lynn looked over her shoulder to see Kim standing in the open doorway. And yes, I’m definitely starting to think of her as Kim. The words danced through Lynn’s mind while a broad grin spread across her lips. In fact, over the previous two days, Lynn was aware her feelings about the Ranger were starting to shift in all sorts of ways.

  “And why not?”

  “You’re an Imprinter.”

  “And I’m also one of the few able-bodied people around here. I mean, you’re hardly in a state to lug bales of hay around.” Lynn looked pointedly at the two sticks in Kim’s hands.

  “You could get Jeanne to do it.”

  “She’s quite busy enough, and I don’t mind. It’s nice to get the chance to feel really useful for once.” Lynn heaved up the bale and began stepping toward the door. Kim shuffled aside awkwardly to let her out. She was clearly finding sideways the hardest direction to manage with her injured knee, but had little trouble keeping pace with Lynn as they walked along to the stable.

  “What’s more useful than being an Imprinter?” Kim asked, her voice completely serious for once.

  Lynn sighed. “I suppose in theory, not much, but in practice it doesn’t always feel like it. I think it’s that we never get to see the results of what we do. Our work is supposed to be a tribute to life, but everything about the temple seems designed to alienate us from it. We don’t see the children we create; we don’t know the world they live in; we hardly even see the sky they walk under. We’re supposed to be the chosen of Celaeno, but we’re kept isolated from the world she chose for us.”

  Lynn realized her tone had grown vehement, more bitter than she had intended. She put a clamp on her train of rhetoric and forced herself to relax before concluding. “After a while we turn into miserable old crones who just complain about our lot whenever we find a fool gullible enough to listen.” She dropped the bale into the horse’s manger and turned to grin at the other woman.

  Kim returned her smile but did not look convinced by the change in tack. “Aren’t you happy in the temple?”

  “Would you be?” The reply shot out before Lynn had time to think.

  Abruptly, tears burned behind her eyes. Her emotions were definitely getting more volatile whenever Kim was around. A bad sign. She turned back to the horse, stroking its neck while she regained her composure, then walked to the stable door and leaned her shoulder on the jamb. Her gaze lifted above the walls of the stockade and rested on the high peaks beyond. Evening was close at hand, the snow was tinged softest pink in the fading light. The peace of the mountains slowly washed into her, easing the frown from her face and the lump from her throat.

  “Now you’re looking more cheerful.” Kim had watched her in silent concern.

  “I like mountains,” Lynn said softly.

  “There’s a lot of them around here.”

  “True.” Lynn sighed, and a wistful smile touched her face. The mountains had worked their magic upon her. She had found her emotional balance again, enough to regain her sense of fun. “You asked if I’m happy in the temple? No, I’m not. Maybe some day I’ll get to like it better. If not, at least the Goddess has given me a chance here to experience a little freedom, and I really shouldn’t waste her gift in useless brooding.” The smile shifted to a grin of pure mischief, and Lynn bent down to take a scoop of snow, quickly shaping it into a fair sized snowball. She turned her eyes to Kim, clearly sizing her up as a target.

  “Not fair, I can’t retaliate.” Despite the words, there was laughter in Kim’s voice.

  “Damn, you’re right. I’ll have to wait until your knee is better.”

  “Even then. Isn’t it a mortal sin to throw a snowball at an Imprinter?”

  “Only if Sister Smith finds out.” Lynn spun about and launched the snowball at the wall of the main hall, making a fair guess at the spot behind which the Sister lay in a private anteroom off the barracks. The snowball exploded against the timbers, leaving a small circle of white behind. “And I suppose I had better go and see how she is before Ubbi comes and grabs me.” Lynn begun to trudge toward the doorway. Kim swung along on her crutches beside her.

  “You know, you’re not at all what I thought an Imprinter would be like.”

  “Sorry, I’ll try and be more holy in future.” But there was nothing of piety in Lynn’s grin.

  Laughing, they entered the light and warmth of the barrack room, their paths separating by the round, central hearth with its heap of burning logs. Close by were two Rangers and the driver with a set of dice before them. The lieutenant was eagerly hailed by the players, but before she went to join them, Kim stood and watched Lynn head down the hall toward her patients, and the words rose softly to her lips, “No, don’t change. You’re fine just as you are.”

  *

  Seven days passed before news from the rest of the squadron arrived. Just after noon, shouts outside the stockade proclaimed the arrival of two Rangers with word that the rest of the snow lions had been tracked down and killed. By now, all of the wounded except for Smith were able to hobble to the fireside and sit to listen to the messenger’s account of the hunt. In the relaxed atmosphere of the barrack room, the telling drifted away from a formal military dispatch, aided by many interjections and questions from the listeners, but at last it drew to a close.

  “And so Captain LeCoup has taken the rest of the squadron on to Petersmine. She’s going to send word to Landfall to explain what has happened and why Sister Smith and the Imprinter have been delayed.”

  The speaker seemed unaware of any hidden implications to her words, but Lynn felt the corners of her lips twitch. Smith might have some awkward explaining to do now that her version of events would not be the first to reach the Chief Consultant’s ear. With twelve dead and the supporting evidence from the mayor in Redridge, it would be a nasty hiccup in Smith’s career. Insurmountable, if there was any justice in the world. And no matter how high Smith’s star might rise, it would always be tarnished by rumors and questions muttered behind her back.

  The Ranger continued speaking. “The captain will also arrange for more supplies to be sent up here, and we will remain with you so we’re on hand to carry messages down to Petersmine if there’s need.”

  “Any other instructions from LeCoup?” Kim asked, reverting to her role of lieutenant.

  “No, ma’am. Apart from the hope that your knee’s feeling better.”

  “It is. I can now walk with just one stick.”

  “Oh yes.” One of the messengers held up a hand. “Sergeant Coppelli sent a private message for you.”

  “It’s repeatable?” Kim sounded surprised.

  “Probably not. She put it in writing.”

  The scrap of paper was handed over. It was not sealed. Presumably, the Rangers took it for granted that neither messenger would disgrace their trust by opening it. Kim read the words, her eyebrows rising slightly and a laugh shaking her shoulders, and then she folded the paper and dropped it in the fire. Lynn felt a twinge of something that could only be jealousy—absurd as it was.

  The mood of the two Guards was more vengeful. “That was definitely the last of the snow lions you killed?”

  “Yes,” one of the messengers replied.

  “So how many were in the pride in total?”

  “Fourteen.”

  “I hope Celaeno lets them burn in hell forever.”

  “They were only animals,” Kim said evenly.

  “But my comrades weren’t.” The Guard spat out the words.

  Wisely, Kim let the conversation drop.

  *

  Some time later, Lynn found a chance to talk to her in private, when the pair sat by the glowing embers of the fire after the others had gone to their beds.

  “You didn’t seem to take much satisfaction from hearing about the end of the snow lions.”

  “Oh, I’m pleased enough,” Kim replied. “I’ve seen the remains of too many women to be happy with the thought
of a pride roaming the farmlands. But I couldn’t join the Guards in their talk of revenge. The snow lions weren’t being evil, they were just hungry and following their nature. You can’t expect them to know any better.”

  “Unlike gangs of bandits.” Lynn finished the sentence for Kim.

  “No.” It was just one word, but it held a bleak intensity that made Lynn glance across.

  Kim was staring into the hearth, jaw clenched and lips pressed shut. Her eyes seemed to be looking on other scenes, and not pleasant ones. Along with wild beasts, the murderous gangs who scavenged at the edges of the civilized land were the main responsibility of the Rangers. Kim had never spoken of them before. Lynn realized it was a deliberate omission, and painful memories were obviously involved.

  Uncertainly, Lynn asked, “Bandits have killed comrades of yours?”

  Kim drew a breath. “Since I’ve joined the Rangers? Yes, a few. But before that a gang murdered my family.”

  “Oh, I...I’m sorry.” Lynn heard the pitiful inadequacy of her own words.

  “It was years back. I was only fourteen or so. Old enough to be sent into town to get supplies. When I got back that night, I found everyone dead with their throats slit...even my baby sister. They’d taken everything of value that could be picked up and carried.” Kim’s eyes were hard, her voice tight. “And yes, I did join the Rangers looking for revenge.”

  “I can understand that.”

  Kim rubbed her face with her hands and then raked her fingers back through her cropped hair as if trying to scrub the memories away. She pulled a bitter, lopsided grimace. “You’d think by now I’d be able to put it behind me.”

  “No,” Lynn said quietly.

  “But it doesn’t get me anywhere. Though Chip says remembering makes me nasty, mean, and vindictive, and therefore ideal material to become a Ranger captain.” Kim’s expression shifted to a soft, sad smile. “I think if it hadn’t been for Chip, I’d have gotten myself killed the first time I went into action against bandits. I was so eaten up with lust for vengeance I wanted to take on the whole lot single-handed. It’s taken her the best part of the last eight years to talk some sense into me. The Goddess knows what I’d be like without her.”

  “You’re very close.”

  “Very.” Kim paused, then a genuine smile formed on her lips. “Despite what she wrote in her letter.”

  Lynn hesitated. No point was served by probing into Kim’s pain, and the letter was something that had pricked her curiosity. “I suppose it was too personal to repeat what was in the letter?” she said cautiously, unsure if Kim would be willing to answer, but the Ranger’s smile grew even broader.

  “I don’t know about personal, and certainly not verbatim. But Chip implied that I am addicted to certain immoral practices, involving sheep, turnips, and swinging from trees, and commiserated that I wouldn’t be able to satisfy my urges again until my knee was better.”

  Lynn stifled her laughter with one hand. When she had herself back under control, she said in mock seriousness, “Perhaps when Sister Smith is awake again, you should ask her for guidance in this matter.”

  “Guidance? You mean like, left a bit, right a bit?”

  Lynn creased forward, unable to reply.

  Kim laughed as well, her humor fully restored. “No. Chip is the one who needs help. Believe me, I know.”

  Lynn sat up again and then surprised herself by blurting out, “Are you lovers?” She was not certain if she even wanted to know the answer, but Kim shook her head.

  “We considered it years back, mainly when we were drunk, but decided we did better as friends. And since Chip met Katryn I don’t think she’s even noticed anyone else.”

  “Katryn?”

  “Corporal Nagata. She transferred into our squadron a couple of years ago. Steady relationships between Rangers aren’t approved of. They can get in the way in a crisis. But Chip and Katryn have an understanding. It’s one of the reasons Chip wasn’t bothered when I became lieutenant rather than her. She’s a few years older than me, her term of duty expires next year, and she won’t re-enlist. Katryn will be out of the Rangers the year after. They’ll both have their de-mob payments, and they won’t be too old to think about children.”

  “But you don’t have any similar plans?”

  “No. I made it to lieutenant when I was still twenty-five, by the space of two weeks. I would like to be a captain before I’m thirty.”

  “A career soldier.”

  “Oh yes. The outlaws took my family. The Rangers are my life now.”

  Only the faintest trace of the former pain remained in Kim’s voice, but when they bid each other good night and parted, the thought shot through Lynn’s mind that the temple had stripped her of her family as surely as the bandits had taken Kim’s.

  *

  The vertebrae in Smith’s back got stronger with each passing day, eventually reaching the point where Lynn could no longer pretend that total sedation was necessary. The Smith who woke up was a changed woman. But not changed by much. Less domineering and arrogant, but no less sanctimonious or meddlesome. She spent her time in quiet but fervent prayer, as if waiting for the Goddess to tell her who was to blame for her misfortunes. The prayers, of course, required constant attendance from Lynn and Ubbi. The only release was the hour before sleep, which Smith spent in private meditation. By the fourth evening, Lynn was eager to be out of the staging post, except that it brought partings nearer.

  At the end of another tedious day of prayers and hymns, Lynn was finally dismissed from Smith’s room. Ubbi trotted to where her own possessions lay and pulled out her copy of the book of the Elder-Ones, obviously intending to spend the time in quiet reading. Possibly Smith took it for granted that Lynn would undertake a similar occupation and thought it unnecessary to give instructions, but Lynn took advantage of the oversight to wander down the barrack room and join the group of soldiers sitting around the central hearth.

  She was greeted by a ring of smiles, and a mug of hot tea was pressed into her hands. During the twenty-one days in the fort, a camaraderie had grown up, the rivalry between the Rangers and the Guards replaced by a gentle teasing, and Lynn had become an accepted member of the group, happier than at any time since she had entered the temple at Fairfield. Her singing ability had been seized on enthusiastically, and the soldiers had taught her several songs that would never form part of any service in the temple.

  As much as anything, Lynn enjoyed the honest, open banter. Although the jokes were frequently bawdy, to Lynn’s mind they were far less offensive than the conversation of the Sisters: the intimidation by pious quotes, the political backstabbing disguised in religious platitudes. The soldiers spoke of a world Lynn would never know, but it did not matter. Their stories were like breathing fresh air after years of choking in incense. When Lynn sat down, they were in the middle of an innocuous debate about the quality of merchandise available in the inns of a certain town, but the subject soon took an abrupt turn.

  One of the Rangers was speaking, “And it’s not just the beer there that’s for sale. You can get the barmaids as well.”

  “In what way?”

  “Horizontal. I was there once and this barmaid was giving me the come-on. Sat down beside me, hand on my leg. Well...she was nice; I had some spare time and...okay...” The woman shrugged. “I was a little drunk. But I thought ‘Why not?’ The next thing, she’s quoting a price.”

  “Maybe she assumed that with a face like yours you couldn’t get it for free.” The gibe raised a general howl of laughter around the fire.

  Carma, one of the Rangers, turned to the Guard beside her and said in semi-serious tones, “You won’t be at all surprised to learn that’s a problem our lieutenant has never suffered from. One smile and she has them falling at her feet.”

  “Oh, it’s her feet they’re aiming at,” a second Ranger said, feigning innocent enlightenment.

  “I think some would be happy with any part they could grab.”

  “Then
it’s fortunate Kim is so easygoing about women grabbing her parts.” More laughter followed.

  “Hey.” Kim kicked the Ranger’s shin gently, with no deterrent value at all.

  Carma’s voice was dryly ironic as she carried on talking to the Guard. “Now you might think the rest of us would be resentful of the easy way Kim avoids being lonely in bed, but we’ve also seen the problems that go with it. For instance, there was this blacksmith’s apprentice in Northcamp who, I’m afraid, was a bit cracked.”

  “Couldn’t see it from where I was standing,” someone cut in.

  The laughter had risen to screeches; the story was obviously well known. Kim’s expression was one of resigned good humor, although even in the firelight it was possible to see a faint blush touch her cheeks.

  Carma continued with the tale. “There was this woman, totally obsessed with our lieutenant, except she was a sergeant then. Anyway, one day the woman breaks into Kim’s quarters, strips all her clothes off and poses on the bed waiting for Kim to come in, flaunting her...”

  Suddenly, Lynn knew she had no wish to hear the end of the story. Trying to cause the minimum disturbance, she slipped out of the circle, but her departure was noticed and the recounting faltered. She met Carma’s abashed look with a reassuring smile, mimed “It’s okay” and fled toward the outside door, pausing only to grab her cloak and hat.

  The fort was peaceful in the moonlight, snuggled in the protective ring of mountains. Stars were splashed across the velvet darkness overhead and snow lay on the ground, but the covering was patchy now that the spring thaw was setting in. Lynn crossed the square and climbed the ladder to the watchtower. The high platform had become a refuge for her, especially once she learned that Sister Ubbi suffered from vertigo. She leaned against the railing, resting her folded arms on the rough wooden bar and looking out over the dark hillside, while trying to work out whether it was jealousy of, or sympathy for, the blacksmith’s apprentice that had prompted her to leave the fireside.