by Candy Rae
“You seem to be making a habit of this,” Jilmis contented himself by saying when she appeared with her request.
“Weaponsmaster?”
“Visiting sisters,” he replied with a chuckle. “There was another visit on the way here if I remember rightly.”
“We’re triplets,” protested Rilla. Surely he isn’t going to refuse me?
“So how many sisters do you have?” he asked beckoning her to follow him to the office tent where passes for entry into the Settlement area were kept.
“There are us triplets, Hilla, me and Zilla.”
“It was Zilla you visited at Dunetown?”
“Yes, Hilla’s with the Garda, in officer training and I haven’t seen her for simply ages, Zala’s married and lives in Stewarton. Lastly there’s Tala, I don’t know where she is. She visited me at Vada before we left but wouldn’t tell me what she was doing. Tala’s really clever; she’ll be doing something terribly important.”
Little do you know young Rilla. “So five sisters. Any brothers?”
“Just the one. His name is Zak and is with the Dunetown Militia. I don’t suppose Weaponsmaster that you know where they are?”
“I’ll try to find out,” he told her, “and if I do, no promises mind, I’ll try to see if you can pay him a quick call.”
After he has signed Rilla’s pass and watched her scud off to find Zawlei, Jilmis sat down heavily in his camp-chair. The sons and daughters of Talan the Innkeeper were certainly ‘doing their bit’ for the war effort, with four out of the six involved. At least two of their daughters were out of immediate harm’s way. He had got this far in his ruminations when a head poked itself under the tent-flap. It was Cadet Charles.
“Weaponsmaster? There’s a girl out here looking for Rilla and Zawlei. She says she is Rilla’s sister and has come to offer her services as a nurse.”
* * * * *
At the Academie, Rilla located Hilla and the two spent the afternoon in an orgy of reminiscing, by mutual consent not talking overmuch about the incipient war.
Hilla and the other Officer Trainees were embarking for the south that evening.
“How was Zilla when you saw her?” asked Hilla.
“Okay I think,” answered Rilla. “Very quiet, she didn’t say much.”
“Does she ever?” queried Hilla.
“I know, I know, but I’m sure there was something, something that she was hiding from me. Course, we didn’t have long together so she didn’t have much time to talk but she’s never hidden anything from me before.”
“A young man?” hazarded Hilla.
“Could be but Mother didn’t say anything and I think she would have done if that had been it.”
“If she knew.”
“There is that,” admitted Rilla, “but who?”
Hilla shrugged. “She’s growing up.”
“We’re all the same age,” protested Rilla.
“She was always the youngest.”
“By under a bell.”
“No,” said Hilla, surprising Rilla with her understanding. “The youngest mentally. You and I left home and had to grow up, learn to live without each other. She always let us make decisions for her.”
“You rather than me.”
“But when I left you took over, didn’t you?”
“Not that I was aware of,” said Rilla, bristling.
“Unintentionally then, but true,” Hilla insisted. “With us gone she has had to learn to think for herself. I’ve noticed it in her letters. To begin with, when you were still at home they were filled with Rilla this and Rilla that. Her own personality never showed. When you and Zawlei left for Vada glimmers of her started, what she thought, what she did. More and more lately. I wondered if there is a young man involved. Did she seem happy?”
“Not really.”
“That’s it then. She’ll tell us when she’s ready. We’re triplets, stands to reason that she will eventually and you, any young man?”
Rilla shook her head. “Zawlei’s enough for me. It’s different for us who are bonded with Lind. It was explained in classes and there’s Zawlei to consider. One of the Fourth Stripe Cadets, Charles is his name, he and I had a fling.”
“Is he nice?”
“Very nice, but Zawlei doesn’t much like his Lind Wlya so we both knew that anything more would be out of the question.”
“Sounds rather unfair on you and Charles.”
“No it isn’t like that,” insisted Rilla. “Zawlei is the most important ‘person’ in my life and if he is unhappy then so am I. Don’t worry about me Hilla, I wouldn’t change the way my life has turned out for all the kala in the north. But you, have you heard from Robain?”
“A letter, it came a few days ago,” Hilla answered. “Origination seal Vada of all places.”
“Yes I saw him there but we had time only for a quick hello goodbye. Tala was there. She wouldn’t say much but I’m sure she’s got herself mixed up in all this somehow. When we kissed goodbye I got the funny feeling that it wasn’t goodbye but goodbye. Do you think Robain is mixed up in it too?”
“He only wrote that his detachment from the Garda was being extended and that I was to take care. He said that he loved me and that he would find me when this was all over.”
“Then he will,” said Rilla with confidence. “Any fool can see how much you mean to him. His eyes go all misty when he talks about you.”
“Yes,” said Hilla with an effort.
“So when do you embark?” asked Rilla in an effort to change the subject.
“At Eleventh Bell. I’d better be getting back to the barracks. I’ve got some last things to pack.” She stood up. “I’ll see you in the south little sister. Tell Zawlei that if anything happens to you I’ll have his toenails for garters.”
“We’ll look after each other.” Neither triplet voiced the thought that one or the other might not be coming back.
“Least Zilla’s safe back at the inn,” Rilla added as she hugged Hilla tight. “A battle is no place for our Zilla.”
“Never thought it was the ideal place for you either,” said Hilla with a grin.
“Destiny is a strange thing,” whispered Rilla as the two separated.
With a last backward smile Hilla began to walk away. At the door she gave a jaunty wave and disappeared.
That image stayed with Rilla as she left the Academie grounds and ‘called’ Zawlei to her. She and Zawlei hurried back to the Vada encampment, Rilla hoping she was not in any trouble as she had stretched the time allocated to her on the pass to its absolute limit.
Great was her surprise to be met by her friend Shona who was bursting with news.
“Rilla, you’ll never believe it. Your sister Zilla is here!”
* * * * *
Zilla and Rilla
“What are you doing here?” Rilla’s voice was one big exclamation mark. “What will Mother say?”
Zilla regarded her sister’s dismayed face and winced.
“I wanted to do something to help,” she answered. “Everyone else is. You’re here, Hilla’s here somewhere, even Zak and Matt. Please don’t be angry.”
“Zala’s not,” said Rilla.
“Zala is in Stewarton with the children. Father got a letter from her. She wrote that Tala had left for Vada, least she thought she had. I have to play my part too. Don’t you see?”
“But you can’t fight; you know how hopeless you are with anything remotely resembling a weapon!”
“I’m not here to fight. Weaponsmaster Jilmis, I spoke to him, he said I’ll be welcome as part of one of the medical teams the Garda is forming, as a nurse-volunteer.”
“You’re not trained.”
“I can help,” insisted a stubborn Zilla. “I’m strong. I can fetch and carry, clean up.”
Rilla sighed, “did you come on your own?” She was completely taken aback by the determination she detected in her triplet. “I suppose you came on Lightfoot?”
Zilla nodded. “Maura, you
remember her? She’s here too. We travelled together.”
An exasperated Rilla looked at her. Someone else to worry about.
“I’m not going back,” insisted Zilla.
“No, I can see that, but do you really know what you’re letting yourself in for? A battlefield is not a pretty place.” Rilla was filled with the urge to protect her gentle sister and how was she going to tell Hilla and Zak?
“Please,” begged Zilla, “please try to understand. I have to be here. Maura feels the same. Mother and Father know, I left a note.”
Rilla laughed, “and you think that’s going to placate them?”
“I expect Father will be angry,” said Zilla in a demure voice, “but that can’t be helped.”
An exasperated Rilla could only say, “okay, okay. You’re here and it’s good to see you.”
“I knew you’d understand,” smiled Zilla as she hugged Rilla. “Have you seen Hilla and Zak? And where is Tala? She is here with the army isn’t she?”
“Zak will be in the militia camp, Zala’s Matt will be there too. I’m hoping to see them. I’ve just returned from a visit to Hilla. She’s embarking tonight.”
Zilla looked ready to burst into tears at the news that she had arrived too late to see Hilla but managed to control herself. This was, as Rilla realised, another sign that Zilla was growing up. The old Zilla would have succumbed.
“I’ve missed her? Tala?”
“She’s not here. I don’t know exactly where she is or what she’s doing.”
Zilla homed in on Rilla’s earlier sentence. “What do you mean that Hilla’s embarking tonight? Embarking for where?”
“The whole army is going to the southern continent,” said Rilla impressively, not noticing Zilla’s blush. “We’re going to stop the Larg in Murdoch and not wait for them here.”
“In Murdoch,” breathed Zilla. “Will the medical teams be going too?”
“They’d better,” said Rilla in a too bright voice. “Still sure you’re up to it?”
Zilla squared her chin. “I’m not afraid, well; maybe I am, a bit.”
“A bit?”
“A bit more than a bit.”
“I’m quite frankly terrified,” Rilla admitted.
“We can be terrified together,” said Zilla, “share things like we used to. So what do you mean about Tala? If she’s not here where is she?”
“It’ll be something important. She’s probably inventing a wonder weapon to help us defeat the Larg and the Dglai. Don’t worry about Tala, she’ll be someplace safe.”
Half of Rilla’s answer was nearer the truth than she knew. Tala was indeed, if not inventing, then hunting out a wonder weapon but in the other half of her answer, Rilla couldn’t have been more wrong. Tala was soon to be embroiled in a great deal of danger. Zilla’s thoughts had moved on from wondering about the location of Tala.
“Rilla,” she asked, “what are the Dglai?”
* * * * *
Hilla
The transport that was to carry the Garda Officer Trainees to Duchesne was not a large one; in fact the Mayflower was one of the smallest merchantmen commandeered by Major Bellahouston when he had closed off any egress from the harbour at Settlement.
She bobbed playfully beside the quay and Hilla was not the only one to look at the bobbing little ship with horror.
“Are we expected to travel on that?” exclaimed Jen Durand, Hilla’s especial friend.
Dolvin Annson was no whit behind her. He stepped back with a gesture and said in a theatrical voice, “doomed, we are doomed.”
“Shut up Dolvin,” said Hilla with a quick look round, “Leftenant Villiers might hear you.” He grinned but subsided. “It might not be as bad as it looks.” She was trying to make herself believe that the Mayflower was more seaworthy than she looked. She was an old ship as Paul Farquer, the final member of their quartet pointed out. He came from a seafaring family, his mother’s maiden name was Trent, (one of the oldest seagoing families in the country, the Trent Reef was called after one of her ancestors) and so was expected to know about such things.
“Her afterdeck is fashioned in the old style,” he said, “but she looks sound enough and her sails and rigging look in good nick. An old lady but well looked after. It might even be better travelling on her than on one of the larger, newer transports, at least we’ll not be packed in like pillies in her holds.”
“Does she have a hold?” asked a doubtful Hilla.
“Bound to have, from the smell of her I’d say she’s one of the coastal grain merchantmen. Think how awful it would be if we had been assigned to a merchantman whose usual cargo was fish or something equally unpleasant.”
Hilla and Jen laughed.
“Point taken,” said the latter. Their chatter ceased. Leftenant Villiers, accompanied by Warrant Officer Wilf Taplin was approaching.
The Warrant Officer spoke a few words to the Leftenant then approached the waiting Officer Trainees.
“Get yourselves aboard,” he ordered, “make your way to the aft hold and get settled in. The Captain has requested that we stay below for now. His men will be busy getting the remaining grain for the horses stowed in to the fore hold and doesn’t want you all getting under their feet. Once we get under way you’ll be able to come on deck. In fact, I would advise that you do. Senis Durand, you are in charge until I join you.”
“Yes sir,” answered Jen as she lifted her pack and led the way up the gangplank.
Hilla, Paul and Dolvin followed her as she clambered aboard.
A grinning matalot pointed aft. Hilla turned right and followed Jen to the hatchway. She peered down into the dark interior.
“Down the ladder,” the sailor called over and Jen grimaced at Hilla as she turned round and felt around with her foot for the first rung. She began to make her slow way down the ladder, not an easy task, encumbered as she was with weaponry and pack.
Hilla sniffed, the hold smelt of hay, a pleasant smell. Perhaps the journey wouldn’t be as bad as she had thought.
Jen’s head disappeared from view and Hilla turned and placed her own booted foot on the topmost rung. Jen’s voice shouted from underneath her, “come on Hilla, I’ve counted the rungs, twenty-four of them. Just take your time.”
Rung by rung, Hilla descended into the dim cavern that was the aft hold. When her count reached nineteen, she got a fright and it took her a moment to realise that it was Jen’s hand gripping her ankle.
“Jump down the rest,” advised Jen, “the lower rungs are a mite wobbly.” Hilla did with a clatter of equipment, landing on the hay covered deck.
“I’ve put my packs down over there,” said Jen, “put yours beside them and come help with the others.”
The Trainees spent the next two bells in the hold, chattering amongst themselves and listening to the sounds from above as the sailors stowed the rest of the cargo and readied the Mayflower for sailing.
The ship rocked and wallowed with the tide and one or two trainees began to feel a mite unwell. Luckily buckets had been provided for such an eventuality and after emptying their stomachs (wishing that they hadn’t been so greedy at breakfast-time) the unfortunates began to feel a little better.
Hilla, Jen and Paul remained fine but Dolvin complained of feeling nauseous.
“You’ll be okay once we get on deck,” Paul comforted, “it’s this rocking that’s doing it.”
“I don’t see why we couldn’t have boarded after the cargo had been loaded,” Dolvin complained. Even in the dim light his friends could see that his face had turned an interesting shade of green.
“The fodder probably arrived on the dock late,” said Hilla, “it must be almost impossible to get everything here on the bell all the time.”
“Wonder what’s for lunch?” said Paul.
“Bread and dried rations,” said Hilla, whose stomach was rumbling, “I don’t think ships light their cook-stoves until they are underway.”
Dolvin groaned and ran towards the nearest bucket.
When he returned Jen decided to try and take his mind off his troubles.
“Do you remember?” she asked in a teasing voice, “that time during our first tenday as trainees when Sergeant Jillson ordered us all to turn left and Dolvin here turned right?”
“I was so nervous I didn’t know if I was standing on my head or my heels, never mind wondering about which way to turn,” Dolvin admitted with a faint laugh.
“Any better now?” was Hilla’s shot.
“Much better,” he answered, rising to the bait with equamity, “least I never dropped a pike down on anyone’s head not like some people I could mention, someone sitting close to me too.”
Hilla had the grace to blush. “Don’t let’s discuss past follies,” she pleaded, “I still run when anyone mentions the word pike!”
“What will you do if you’re gazetted to one of the pike battalions?” asked Dolvin with interest and some malice.
“Major Bellahouston isn’t that stupid,” put in Jen with a sympathetic glance in Hilla’s direction. “It’s probably written down in gigantic capital letters in her training records that such a posting would be an enormous recipe for disaster and one likely, no sure to, bring discredit on the entire Garda.”
Hilla, who had been looking alarmed managed to force out a laugh with a rueful shake of her head, remembering all too well all the extra pike-drills the said Sergeant had put her through to help her to scrape through that section of her training. “Anyway,” she said, believing in taking the war into the enemy’s camp if at all possible, “who was it who promised us all a brace of plump rabbits at the beginning of that ‘living off the land’ exercise last year and how many did he and his partner bring in?”
“Two,” answered Paul, “but they were big ones.”
The four of them giggled at the memory. Hilla snuck a private look at Jen, remembering their own activities during that eventful three days.
“At least you two girls managed to ‘bring home the bacon’,” said Paul in a generous voice. “These fish fed us all with some to spare. How you managed to catch so many I’ll never know.”
