Once A Hero (15 page)

"How much of the Eldsaga do you know, lass?"

"I know some of the songs.
The Rape of Lucenzia
and
The Razing of Malchalach
are the most sung here. The songs are old and well remembered, which is why you are here and the Elf went with the Fishers." Irritation sent a tremor through her, and fear another after it. "Why do you ask, my lord?"

I soaped my face, then rinsed it off in a great spray of water before answering. "The songs you cite mark Elven crusades that destroyed cities and provinces, changing the very map of Skirren. The slaughter will never be forgotten, but the reason the Elves launched their crusade already has been." I leaned back and let her soap my knees. "You see, the reason the Elves left Cygestolia was because the people of the Roclaws had been bound together by a leader who started nibbling away at Barkol. His dreams went far beyond Barkol, of course, but to the sylvanii his dreams were night terrors."

Had Aarundel been there to hear me recount history, he might have objected to some characterizations, but he could have pronounced the rede of it true. "The Elven Legions rode into the Roclaws and scattered the tribes. I'm thinking they likely wanted us all dead, but the mountains have many valleys and dales, and territories that the Dwarvenfolk claim as their own. While they granted us no succor, nor did they let the Elves hunt in their domains, so the people of the Roclaws survived.

"But now, you see, that in the days when the tribes had been together, many a love affair had blossomed. When we fled, we fled as tribes, not knowing if lovers lived or died. So among our people there arose a custom of waiting a year and a month, a week and a day and an hour before considering ourselves well and truly separated from a lover.

"Over the years many have been the embellishments to this tradition—a married couple who remove themselves from each other's company for that time are divorced and free, and mourning for a lost love lasts that long."

"And you are in mourning?"

The sympathy in her voice made me regret the lie. "I am, fair Yelena. I had a message from my brother, and in it he told me the woman I loved had died. Was the falsethaw fever and not caught in time." I fell silent for as long as I thought right, then managed a weak smile. "The sting of it is mostly gone, but you remind me of her enough that . . ."

Yelena sat back on her heels. "Forgive me, my lord, if I had known . . ."

I shook my head. "You make me mindful of the good things, lass. Were I younger, and this summer next winter, I'd not be riding alone from Aurium."

That pleased her, and her reaction banished the kernel of regret taking root in my heart. "My lord, is one in mourning allowed to enjoy himself at a festival? Is he allowed to dance?"

I winked at her and smiled. "Oddly enough, the custom is he can only dance with a bath attendant."

"Ah, then it is well you keep to your customs, my Lord Neal, well indeed."

Yelena abandoned me when I emerged from the bath and dried myself off. I found the clothing that Aarundel had sent for me and recognized none of it, which meant he had bought it new in the Aurium bazaar. Aarundel prefers to avoid places with too many humans he does not know—the exception being his placement in the midst of an enemy formation. At the same time he has a sharp sense of what is appropriate in conduct and dress, and this he impresses upon me whenever the chance to do so comes about. The fact that we had acted the bloody-handed mercenaries the night before meant we would have to be equally gracious at the festival, and I assumed the red tunic he had supplied for me would help do that.

His willingness to brave the bazaar mirrored my own willingness to keep Yelena at arm's length. As I mentioned before, I am not a ram looking to mount a herd, but neither am I celibate or like-gender attracted. While I enjoy the company of women, I am also aware of Aarundel's isolation from sylvanestii, for they are more rare outside Cygestolia than mountain women are outside the Roclaws, Making matters more complicated is the Elven prohibition against coupling with women or Reithressa.

I dressed quickly despite the ache in my ribs. Though I had no intention of going armed to the festival, I did home Wasp and Cleaveheart in their respective scabbards and looped my weapons'-belt over my shoulder. Emerging from my stall, I found Lady Yelena dressed in a gown that flattered her slender figure and accentuated her bosom. She dipped her left hand through the crook of my right arm without saying a word.

I could tell from her smile that while she might respect the tale I had told her earlier, she would make my choice to honor tradition deliciously difficult. "My Lady, you are quite beautiful this evening, eclipsing your earlier beauty, I'm thinking." I let my voice carry enough to spawn giggles from others in the longhouse, and Yelena accepted the compliment with a gentle bow of her head.

The sun had not set by the time we emerged from the longhouse, so I got a chance to orient myself concerning the town's internal geography. The legislatorium stood on a hill above a green square with a statue raised in the center of it. East and west of that square stood two longhouses—one for the Fishers and the other for the Riveravens. Spreading back from them in a rough wedge were other, smaller houses and buildings of related clans and servants. To the south, in the direction of the rivers, other homes, shops, and warehouses bridged the gap between the clan sectors and the wharves. North of the legislatorium the buildings appeared more ramshackle and less permanent, and I had the feeling that somewhere in that transient sector was where I would find my company.

The square itself had been transformed from a muddy flat to something far more in keeping with a celebration, Brightly colored tents, well patched and road stained, had been set up in a haphazard pattern to form a rough perimeter around the square. I was thinking some traveling show had entered the town at a lucky moment, but given the Haladin activity in the area, it seemed likely they had been north of the legislatorium, waiting for a good time to travel.

Interior of the tents I saw carts and stalls of the sort I imagined would be found in the bazaar. Their hasty transplanting narrowed the area near the statue, but still left enough room for a good crowd. Musicians had set up at the base of the statue and looked to be a mix of the road minstrels and folks belonging to Aurium itself. In tuning their instruments they sounded like a herd of cats fighting on a bed made of bellowing walruses, but I was thinking the sound would resolve itself into something dance-spawning quite quickly.

I'd gotten a step and a half from the longhouse when the Dreel slid his shaggy red-gray body from a hollow beneath the building. He crawled up out of a hole around which he had placed fresh-killed dogs' skulls like merlons and paced beside me. Yelena started when she caught sight of him past my left shoulder, but forced a yawn. I casually handed him my swordbelt. "If I need this, you will fetch it to me. Meanwhile, try not to kill anything." Shijef flashed his fangs at me, so I added, "Be trying real hard not to kill anything."

Yelena shivered. "You have scars from a Dreel bite, yet you keep one with you as a pet?"

"Oh, the scars are from that Dreel's bite." I shrugged. "Besides, he's not a pet, he is a slave."

"Why would you want a Dreel as a slave?"

"I'm thinking you have a point—they're not good for much." I forced the image of the bouncing head from my mind. "I did not have much choice. His Dreelband was raiding a village one winter. We had a contest, he and I, and he lost, so he became my slave."

"Better that than the other way around." I smiled. "I'm thinking I'd not have been a slave. Dinner, more likely."

Yelena took the lead as we entered the square and paraded me around like a groom leading a prize horse. I played my part, taking a bit of joy from the green-eyed glances shot in my direction by local men who doubtless had pondered ways to woo her. I wished the men no ill, but I was thinking one night of discomfort might spur them on to act. Part of me pitied any man who thought Yelena would become his chattel, but there had to be someone in Aurium who could be her match in spirit and mind.

As dusk passed into night, torches were lit and the orchestra had appointed a leader. Both Festus and Childeric made brief speeches about the union of their families. A priest, Jistani by the cut of his hair, said the words that needed saying; then the musicians struck up a tune, and the wedded couple engaged in a stately dance. I'd seen it performed more formally otherwhens, but seldom with more sincerity. It seemed as if both Rufus and Ismere had determined to defy their families by clinging together. If their offspring were as tough-minded, I was thinking, the union might well last a long time.

Yelena pressed me to dance when the music shifted to something more lively. Quick and light as she was, she managed to keep her tiny feet from beneath mine during the Centisian turn. The players then struck up a Kaudian reel, which I forced her through and showed her that speed in battle can translate elsewise into more pacifistic pursuits.

Our scores tied at a dance even, we agreed to let the third dance—a complicated Centisian walking step with twirls and bows and hop-skips—decide who was better. I kept up close to her level of performance until the spin right before the hop-skip then bow at the end of the dance. At that point the man next to me accidently smacked me in the chest with his hand, prompting my bruised ribs to report on their state of health.

I worked my way through the last two sets of the dance, then withdrew from the crowd as a young man whisked Yelena away into the swirl of an old quickstep. Keeping a smile on my face, and my left arm clamped down to protect my ribs, I headed to the outer edge of the crowd and started looking for Aarundel. Under normal circumstances finding him in a crowd was easy—both of us were tall enough to be visible over most other people.

I wandered halfway around the circle, then spotted him up at the top of the steps of the legislatorium. I joined him, plucking at the shoulder of my tunic as I did so. "A red tunic? I'm the Dun Wolf, not the Red Tiger, my friend."

"Red is heroic." The Elf shook his head. "Dun just looks dirty and is not festive at all."

"Your sartorial guidance is appreciated." I looked back down on the varicolored throng pulsing and weaving in time with the music. "Hard to believe Aurium almost tore itself apart last evening."

"Humans are quick to anger, yet quicker to distraction." Aarundel's dark eyes watched the crowd, then flicked toward me. "Our men have been told to be on their best behavior this evening. They were warned about everything from diseases to slapdeath rings. . . ."

I frowned. "I'm not thinking they have to worry about ringbites here. Polston, perhaps, but this place?"

"Neal, with the Fishers and Riveravens, the tools of treachery will soon be available here, if they are not already."

"You have a point."

Aarundel bowed his head in my direction. "Drogo brought word from the Red Tiger. The Haladin forces have abandoned the siege at Polston and seem to be withdrawing to behind the Kaudian mountains. Sture is pursuing them, but he is under orders to let them flee if they do not make war on the mountain freestate."

I arched an eyebrow. "So they are running in the direction of the Reithrese homeland?"

"Or their own deserts, affirmative. Beltran has decided to winter in Polston despite Sture's urging a strike north to liberate Irtysh."

"That explains why Sture is off chasing Haladina away from Beltran and Irtysh."

"I assumed you would notice that. The Red Tiger is going to use his armies to help bring in the harvests, which should endear him to the people. It will also prevent the Reithrese from sending their tax collectors in." The Elf grinned cautiously. "While there will be battles next summer to contest control of Centisia, there is no doubt who owns it for this year."

"Did Drogo bring orders for us?" As I asked the question, I sorted the likely missions to come with a positive answer. I put being allowed to raid far into Reithrese territory at the top of my list, and far below it I placed being called down to Polston for strategy sessions. While I admire and very much like Beltran, the Red Tiger, the thought of spending more than a month in a port city like Polston made me shiver. The fact that Sture was certain to return to Polston for the winter made me shiver as if I had falsethaw fever.

"Beltran desires us to remain here in Aurium and reconnoiter into Ispar, even advancing as far as the plains before Jarudin. He wants the Reithrese to believe his next thrust will be to the heart of their empire and the capital."

I nodded because that made sense. The Man-force fighting the Reithrese relied on mobility and speed to defeat the Reithrese hosts. A feint at Jarudin would make the Reithrese reinforce it, expending supplies and trapping forces in the capital. If we struck elsewhere—preferably a place where they had only Haladina for defense—we could hurt them badly.

Beltran understood the problems of controlling an empire and was using them against the Reithrese. While Sture was probably correct that Irtysh was ready to revolt and come over, it was too far from the freestate to be able to have us defend it. And Sture's patriotic feelings notwithstanding, Irtysh was less valuable than even a town like Aurium.

I knew I might be a bit harsh in my dismissal of Irtysh, for Sture's troops fought well, but Sture and I did not get along at all. He found out, after I had formed the Steel Pack and joined the Red Tiger, that Aarundel and I had seen the battle in which his father, Duke Harsian, had fallen. He somehow decided that it was my fault that his father had died and his nation lay in thrall to the Reithrese.

Aside from the fact that the Roclawzi and Irtyshites had never been allies, with the Reithrese on the doorstep to the Roclaws, there was no way I could have convinced any Roclawzi to join me in fighting in Irtysh, even if I felt that was a good idea. The fact that I didn't think Irtysh was important enough to be liberated, and had no difficulty in voicing this opinion in front of Sture, meant that Takrakor and I would be good friends before Sture and I ever exchanged a civil word.