Riding the Serpent's Back (12 page)

After a short time, Estelle wriggled a little to get more comfortable, and Red realised that he had been holding her tighter than necessary. He gave her a little reassuring squeeze and she moved again.

Then, slowly, she twisted towards him, forcing him hard against her as she moved. If she had been unaware before, then she could not possibly ignore his state of arousal now.

He saw that she was smiling, and she put a hand on his knee and squeezed. “Thank you,” she said. “This makes me feel like a girl again.”

Me too, thought Red. But he remained silent.

She turned away, then tipped her head back so that it rested on his shoulder. “Can you ride any harder?” she asked, her tone so innocent it could not possibly be genuine.

They rode out ahead of the convoy. They had been in safe territory all day, now, and Red instructed Captain Eliazar to stay back with the carriage. “We’ll be okay,” he said, before riding on, as hard and fast as he could.

He held Estelle tightly as the scenery rolled back around them. He no longer cared what she might think of him. He pressed himself against her, squeezed her between his enfolding legs, and they raced on, far faster than was really safe.

After a long gallop they slowed to a canter and Red eased his hold a little. Estelle turned to him, and said, “Don’t. It’s nice.”

He studied her face, the cheeks flushed a deep bronze by the rushing of the air. He should stop now, he knew, but that had never been his way.

They slowed to a walk and he held her tight, his arms wrapped around her waist. She reached back and her hands ran up and down his side, his thighs. Then one hand stole in between their pressing bodies and squeezed hard.

“So that’s what it was,” she said, wonderingly. “Then sir, you really are no gentleman.”

Red pressed his mouth against Estelle’s shoulder, breathing down her neck. “You most certainly are a lady, though,” he said. She hadn’t removed her hand from his crotch, and now she was pressing and releasing more rhythmically.

They were interrupted by the appearance of an old woman, walking towards them on the road ahead. Red raised his head, reluctantly, from Estelle’s shoulder.

He found the reins again and Estelle folded her hands daintily in her lap.

After a short time, they came to pass the old woman. Red looked down at her and nodded his head, his mind racing ahead to the short time remaining with Estelle.

The horse stopped and pulled at some grass although Red had given no signal. He looked at the strange woman and saw the vacant smile of the mindless cracking her wizened old face in two.

Despite her grey hair and aged features, she was a strong-looking woman, with shoulders so broad Red suspected she might easily be used to pull a plough or two. She was dressed in clothes so old and filthy they had lost whatever colour they once possessed and were now a grubby dark grey. Over her shoulder she carried what Red took to be her possessions, tied into a dark sheet.

She reached up and patted the horse’s neck and Red was surprised to see the beast nuzzling her hand as if it was a lamb and not the near-wild stallion he knew.

“Good afternoon,” he said, in as dismissive a tone as he could manage.

The old woman arched her eyebrows, then glanced up at the sun, as if she doubted his claim. “Well so it is,” she said. For long seconds she stared first at Estelle and then at Red, so that he wondered why he did not merely ride on and ignore the old hag. Then she nodded, and said, “If I was not so humble before you, then I would tell you my name, which is Anathea Presland, much esteemed healer and lady of the long road, and I would add that you strike me as a finely matched young couple, indeed.”

Her words shook Red for a few seconds. It was as if she was mocking him, as if she was somehow parodying the convoluted Avernian phrasing he had used in Harrat.

Estelle giggled. Red realised the old woman must have detected something Avernian in the girl’s dress or manner. She probably thought her clumsy attempt to mimic the form of Estelle’s language might earn her a few pennies of appreciation.

Red smiled. He reached into a breast pocket, withdrew a few coins and tossed them down to the woman. “I escort the good lady Estelle to Totenang to be married,” he said. “I am merely her servant.”

The woman snatched the coins from the air and secreted them in her clothing. “Oh, you are a lucky man indeed that she is to be your wife,” she said, misunderstanding Red’s words. “And you, lady Estelle, are even more lucky to have such a kindly gentleman as your husband.”

Estelle looked away, clearly trying to stifle another giggle.

Then suddenly, the old woman reached up and touched Red’s hand and then Estelle’s. “You are both kind to an ugly old tramp,” she said. “And in return I grant the two of you my blessing that your love will bind you forever.”

“You, too, are kind, madam,” said Red, as the horse started to walk again. “But we must resume our journey.”

When they had passed beyond the old woman, they stopped and Estelle slumped back against Red, no longer able to restrain her laughter. “She thought...!” she cried. “She thought that you and I were...!”

Red held her and they rocked back and forward with laughter. When they had gathered themselves, Red heard the sound of the carriage approaching, and he was surprised to see how close the rest of the convoy had approached.

“Something funny, sir?” said Captain Eliazar.

“Whatever makes you think that?” asked Red. He sensed a change in Estelle’s mood, and dismounted so that she could get down.

“I think I’ll sit inside now,” she said. “I must prepare for the rest of the journey.”

~

They had made good ground and before long they were descending the last hill into the river port of Seedrickston. They passed a ramshackle watchpoint where both guards were asleep. Captain Eliazar roused the men with a furious tirade and Red felt a little sorry for them: they looked no older than about fourteen. They had to learn, he supposed, if they were going to be real soldiers.

Seedrickston was little more than a cluster of houses and trading posts lining either side of a short main street which led directly to the harbour. As they rode through, Red noted bunting and flags suspended from the mean houses, and at the docks a small crowd had gathered to celebrate the passage of their Principal’s new bride. There was even a small band playing an approximation of the traditional martial music of Totenang on a tuneless combination of guitar, nose-flute and squeeze drum.

Red had seen the barge already: he had been the main go-between for Pieter and the chief engineer as whim after successive whim had occurred to the Principal. It sat in the harbour now, with a flotilla of smaller craft waiting out in the heaving waters of the river. It was not a large boat – barely forty paces in length – but Red knew how much attention had been put into every last detail of its construction. The wood of its hull had been imported from the Zochi jungle, and that of the deck and interior fittings from a forest far in the western highlands. The dimensions of the fittings, the deck space, even the portholes, had been constructed according to the ratios of the three most True Families in Pieter Lammer’s lineage. Ever practical, the Principal had gratefully adopted Red’s suggestion that when the barge had served its initial purpose, it should be retained for the principal family’s cruising holidays in the northern lakes.

Red paid the barge little attention as they approached it. Instead, he took his pleasure from Estelle’s reaction as she emerged from the carriage and saw the vessel in all its red and green festooned glory.

They went on board and Zochena Hallas and Ada Carmanalle from the Principal’s domestic staff were waiting to attend to their new mistress. He watched from the docks as the barge’s twin paddles began to bite into the water and the vessel pushed away from the side. Estelle didn’t even glance back at him. She was a lady, and he a mere servant, after all.

He turned to Captain Eliazar and said, “Let’s go.” A cargo hauler had moved into the berth vacated by the Principal’s barge. Whilst Estelle would be taken upriver to the Hurstwater and then round to Totenang, Red and his men would cross the river and ride more directly to their home city, their job done.

~

The Principal was being dressed when Red was shown in. For a man of fifty he was in fine shape, and his long blond hair betrayed no sign of grey.

Red bowed briefly, went forward and embraced him, then stepped respectfully back.

Twilight was beginning to spread over the city. Pieter nodded towards the view from the wide open windows of his bed-chamber and said, “She’ll be here soon.” He stretched his arms above his head so that a young woman could heave at the laces of his corset. He glanced at Red, with his slight squint, and said, “You know, I never thought I would, but I’m getting quite excited. I’d thought I was past all that shit. Is she beautiful? I have it on good authority that she is.”

Red shrugged. “A little plump behind, perhaps,” he said. “And young enough to be your granddaughter. You’ll make the perfect couple.”

Pieter laughed. “I’ll have your mouth stitched up one of these days,” he said. “But I doubt even then that you would remain silent.” With his corset fastened up his waist was almost as narrow as Estelle’s.

Red smiled as he thought of how the Principal’s betrothed had felt in his arms, and how he had felt in her hand. “I think you have made a very wise and politic choice,” he said. “And yes, she is beautiful. She has been thoroughly coached for her new life.”

“How was your journey?”

“Quiet and peaceful once we had left behind all the weeping ex-boyfriends in Harrat,” said Red.

For a moment Pieter’s smile faltered, then he said, “They can weep all they like. She’s mine now and I tell you, I really am getting excited! Like a boy again, for the sake of Habna.”

“Just as well,” said Red. “For she’s not much more than a girl, herself.”

~

Red didn’t go with Pieter to greet Estelle at the city’s harbour. He stayed behind to dictate a report to one of the priests in the Principal’s offices. Although he could speak many languages and read the True, Red had never learnt to write – it was too menial a thing for a man of his ambitions.

Despite the impression he cultivated of a somewhat shallow and brash young man who was perhaps too slow on the uptake to present any threat, Red’s brain was sharp when required. He suspected Pieter was one of the few who saw through his facade, and that was why he had become a favourite: an amusing yet reliable servant. For a long time, he went through the details he had committed to memory of Averna’s military position: troop counts in the city of Harrat, the number of patrols and occupied defensive positions they had encountered on their journey, and so on. Also, he gave his impression of the economic status of the province, and the generally unsettled air he had detected about the population.

Pieter knew it was a volatile region, with a history of coups and organised gangs. For his marriage to Estelle to be of any more than personal satisfaction he must ensure her father remained in office. As Red dictated his report, he knew his words were certain to result in an immediate offer of assistance. Totenang would not occupy Averna, as such, it would merely provide military advisers and set up training programmes – the sort where tutors outnumbered pupils and the participation of trainers in local policing was deemed part of the educational process. There would be economic aid, too, in return for the contracts and revised trade codes which would guarantee Totenang’s long-term benefit from the new alliance.

It was possible – although unlikely – that Governor Aviesta had little idea what his daughter’s marriage would mean for the province. More likely, Aviesta knew precisely the protection he was buying with his daughter’s hand. He was a politician, after all.

Red couldn’t help but be aware of the festivities in his city, as he walked down through the palace grounds to the room he had in the domestic wing. Sirens and firecrackers had been sounding for some time and the sound of voices drifted across from a party in the wing as he approached: the day had been declared a public holiday and Red suspected that perhaps half of the city’s population had been drunk since mid-afternoon. By now they would have been joined by most of the remainder.

He went in through one of the back entrances and climbed the stairs to his room. It had been a long journey, with confusing undercurrents. He hadn’t known how tired he was until he had finished the report and suddenly realised that his mission on the Principal’s behalf was over, for now. He could relax.

Sounds of partying surged up the stairs as he reached his door. He pressed his throbbing head against the cold wood. Normally he would join them but tonight, for the first time in what must be years, he was not in the mood to party. He just wanted to sleep.

“Red! I knew you’d be back!”

He looked up and Hellia was running along the corridor towards him. She lurched into his arms and he spun her round so that her feet lifted off the ground. He kissed her hard, then pulled back and said, tiredly, “Is there a party?”

Downstairs, in the long hall where the domestic staff normally ate, the furniture had been moved aside and the celebrations were in full swing.

Red and Hellia paused in the doorway and surveyed the scene. In one corner some boys were playing guitars and pipes. Couples danced wildly across the hall to their music. Others stood and sat all around, some rolling on the floor.

Suddenly, a topless woman appeared through a door which opened out onto the gardens. She ran screaming through the dancers, followed seconds later by a man wearing only his underwear – tied around his neck – and a flower poked up his nose. He stopped and yelled, “Where is she?” Then, cock pointing the way, he ran after her through the crowd.

Red turned to Hellia and kissed her. Then he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it into the crowd. Taking a bottle in each hand, he hooked an arm around Hellia’s neck and pulled her into the hall.

In the mood or not, Red always knew how to party.