The Marcher Lord (Over Guard) (21 page)

While there wa
s a general wistfulness from the men who were staying behind, especially Kieran, and not absent from Ian’s mind either, a different set of opportunities were afforded to the rest of the company that stayed behind.

“
Rotten luck,” Kieran said as he sulked alongside the brisa, “two days in a row.”

“Well,” Elizabeth said from atop the
brisa as she stretched and swung her legs over the side, facing down at him, “I am sure you will soon have all the more success to make up for it. My father says we will reach several areas tomorrow where there may be four horn beasts to hunt.”

“I’ll be
sure to shoot the first four horn,” Kieran said, “that’s what I’ve really been looking forward to.”

“I’ll second that,” Ian said as he jogged up be
side them. “They’re awfully hard to kill from what I hear.”

“
Of course they are,” Kieran scoffed, “they’re solid bone. There are only a couple vulnerable square feet on their entire bodies.”

“True, b
ut they also don’t travel in large, protective groups like long buffalo do,” Ian said, switching tactics. He looked up at Elizabeth and hoping his look somehow conveyed that he was just trying to get Kieran’s back up. He also hoped that she knew he was trying to do it to impress her, without actually knowing—or something like that. “They’re practically docile compared to long buffalo.”

“And you couldn’t even shoot one of those,” Kieran pointed out, somewhat inaccurately.

“I’ll be sure to shoot a four horn then instead,” Ian said, bowing to Elizabeth, “and when it is the first of its kind for our party, I shall dedicate it Your Highness.”

“A trophy I have always wanted,” Elizabeth
’s mouth smiled a bit on the sides, “I’m sure.”

“If you get one at
all,” Kieran said. “I’ll see to it that you don’t.”

“A wager?”
Brodie called from further off, starting toward them. “Is that a wager I hear? A feast for the ears—”

“Keep your
formation,” Kieran called, half-irritably.

“It may be nice to have a witness,” Ian sa
id, “at least I came back from the last hunt in one piece. If you have any impressive collections or noteworthy possessions, now would be the time to say so.”

“And am I not noteworthy enough to qualify as an adequate witness?” Elizabeth asked.

“Of course,” Ian said as Kieran laughed at what the other probably thought was an unrecoverable mistake. “It’s not in matters of blood and bounty that a lady fails to be competent, only that we would want to keep her from such undesirable affairs.”

“Well put,” Elizabeth said, “though I think you might have a different opinion if you knew some of the women I do.”

“So what then?” Kieran asked. “Do you really want to make something of it? I doubt a wager would suit your possessions very well. What would you have to bet?”

Ian had been half-
mulling this over as they’d been talking but had nothing to show for it. Racking his mind a little more earnestly, he discovered he really didn’t—

“You don’t have anything, do you?”
Kieran asked, with almost singsong emphasis. “Typical Wilome working ilk, running yourselves ragged complaining about everything you don’t have but never doing anything to change it.”

Ian felt his
jaw clenching. “And from what ivory tower would you know about it?”

“My family runs several
bakeries in Sotho,” Kieran said, “and they have for generations. We work alongside all the rest of Wilome, but we never complain or strike up riots about it. We just had the ambition to make ourselves something.”

Ian glanced up at Elizabeth, w
ho he found was watching him carefully. Letting out a soft breath, Ian remembered again that he really didn’t care what Kieran thought.

“It’s hard to pull yourself up with the price of grain and
inoculations,” Ian said, striving for an offhand manner.

“Please,” Kieran said, but Ian was ready to divert the subject.

“But of the wager,” Ian said, “if you would like, I can offer up to three sovereigns—”

“
Three?” Kieran asked, with incredulity.

“
Five, if you’d like,” Ian said, “in return for something of equal worth.”

Ian noticed Brodie was sneaking up closer to them again, more carefully
this time, though Kieran was preoccupied to notice.

“That’s rich,” Kieran smirked. “
You don’t have five sovereigns. Can you even be worth that much any time soon?”

“Not right away,” Ian said, “but I would be able to pull that much together
to cover it.”

Kieran laughed. “It’s easy to blow about
something you haven’t even ever seen before.”

“But that’s not the question,” Ian said, “are you willing or not? What do you have that is worth
five sovereigns? Anything special? Surely not just money.”

Kieran hesitated. Ian took the barest moment to glance at Elizabeth, but did it too quickly to tell if she was actually looking at him—it would be too obvious to look at her now, but he hoped that she realized he had just maneuvered Kieran rather neatly. There was no way that Kieran’s pride would be able to offer
up regular money when Ian had just scoffed it off. He would have to best Ian’s offer, and Ian was interested to know what sorts of things a person from somewhat wealthier means would be carrying.

“I have a lighter,
” Kieran said, “a very nice one. Guaranteed flame in wind or water, the thing never goes out.”

“Show it to
them,” Brodie said. “It is rather nice. But didn’t your father give you that?”

“Yes,” Kieran said as he dug it out of his pocket and somewhat grudgingly handed it to Ian. “But I don’t have to worry about that, right?”

“Of course not,” Ian said, turning the lighter over in his hands. It was in some ways overly exquisite, the casing inlaid with silver that was patterned through the metal casing. Left to his own devices, even assuming money was not an issue, Ian would’ve never bought something so ornate. Though he had heard about these kinds of lighters, and it seemed like it would often be very handy to own one.

It was a nice, solid weight, which definitely bespoke of its quality. He experimentally flipped it open and observed the flame, played with the adjusters for a moment, then shut it and
returned it to Kieran.

“Seems suitable,” Ian said, th
inking to himself that he wouldn’t actually accept such a thing when he won the bet.

“What
will the terms be then?” Elizabeth asked.

Kieran shrugged. “Whoever
shoots the first four horn—with a finishing shot.”

“It’
s a deal,” Ian said, and briefly shook Kieran’s hand.

“I will feel bad acc
epting that much money from you,” Kieran said.

“Now
, now,” Brodie laughed, “there’s no need to lie to keep up good Christian principles. You won’t really feel bad.”

“I will,” Kieran said, looking off in the direction the margrave and the rest had gone. “And it will be especially bad if you lose two wagers in a row.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “I suppose it would be, though I wouldn’t mind too much if I lost to Williams. He’s an astounding shot.”

“He’s not the only one,” Kieran grinned complacently.

“Well, for the sake of the wager,” Brodie said, wiping at his brow, “I hope we live long enough to go on another hunt. I couldn’t have dreamed up a more oppressive kind of heat.”

“Quite your w
hining, Brodie,” Kieran said. “It’s not that hot.”

“It
is not cool either,” Elizabeth said, lazily watching him. “I feel so sorry for you men, and all the weight you have to carry in this weather.”

“
Anglas is to be doubly pitied,” Brodie began, but was immediately quelled by a look from his subject.

“Why is that?” Elizabeth raised her eyebrows.

Ian took advantage of the momentary distraction to look up at Elizabeth’s profile, softly lit as it was beneath her umbrella. He couldn’t get over just how softly her features flowed into each other. It started with her cheeks, a pleasingly sort of fair—devastatingly full and even slightly supple—that continued down into full lips that were meant to be quirked, as they were now, as Brodie made some sort of excuse about all the extra and expensive items Kieran had to carry.

“I don’t have anything ex
tra to carry,” Kieran protested. “Nothing more than anyone else.”

Perfect ears.
That’s what they were. Ian never really contemplated anyone’s ears for very long. Ears started to seem silly if they were thought about for too long, and they generally gave no special reason to be especially interesting. But hers were of a very flawless, singular category. The perfect shape, size, the perfect place to pull aside locks of gold, and leading over into—

Elizabeth turned to look at him again, their eye contact ironically ending what he had hoped to be the crowning examination
of her eyes. And though he held them, very gingerly, far too much was going on behind them, and he supposed the conversation as well, to allot the necessary energies for an adequate appraisal.

“Don’t you think so, Private
Kanters?” Elizabeth asked.

“Oh,” Ian mostly covered his recovery, “
excuse me—I suppose I wasn’t listening.”

“That’s not a very becoming mark of a gentleman,” Elizabeth gently reprimanded him.

Kieran was frowning at him, even when Ian was looking back.

“Forgive me, mi
lady,” Ian bowed a bit, “I will not let it happen again, as a gentleman is the highest title that I can ever hope to strive for.”

“Indeed,” she said, raising her chin a bit, her eyes
curiously wandering over his.

The conversation wandered on, mostly with Kieran at the helm
, discussing matters of hunting and all of its many protocols. Ian kept a loose ear on it, chiming in at enough disposable instances to keep his place in the proceedings. He decided it was safer to keep his eyes on their surroundings, or his company mates, or anything besides the margrave’s daughter, but his thoughts were on her, what she was trying at.

True, it could all just be disinterested conversation
for her. But that seemed unlikely, given that was unlikely in any case of young company, himself included. And though she was pleasantly not at all a Dervish woman of ill repute, bent on exploitation and worldly distractions—she was in fact everything that someone like Ian could ever hope to admire, could ever hope to be with, because such little chance existed that such a pairing would ever occur.

So what was the point
then? Elizabeth had asked that same question, Ian remembered. And now, asking it of himself, he could find no good answer. Certainly there was always a possibility, the bravest sliver of a hope, but he couldn’t make himself believe that it was actually present here. What was it she wanted then?

Her laughter, when it did come, seemed so earned, so
judicious in its favors. And it was worth it, like a subtle music, her face aglow with the amusement.

“Is that so?” she asked Kieran.

“It is,” Kieran answered, about whatever they were talking about, “just you wait and see.”

Very well then,
Ian thought. He would. He didn’t know what she wanted with him, with any of them, but he was going to find out.

*              *              *              *

“It is ghastly,” Elizabeth murmured from where she reclined next to the pool of water, her feet resting in it.

“It’s not terrible though,” Kieran said, always piloting the topic’s vicissitudes
for his favor. He sat at the water’s edge as well, facing away toward the plains.

They’d stopped a little after midday at the watering hole Will had marked as favorable for setting camp. It was partially surrounded by a variable shell of trees, some of the first in significant number that Ian had
seen up close, though it looked as though they were to be more common in the future terrain.

The
tassi trees were significant as perhaps the single most incredible life form Orinoco hosted. Or perhaps the tassi trees hosted Orinoco. It was through their unique biology that so much of the sun’s violent energy was absorbed as well as repelled back up into the atmosphere, forming the fragile cradle that allowed the planet’s life to exist. Or at least that’s what Ian’s yeoman said. At any rate, this process was also what produced the interference of communication signals as a byproduct that the planet was also infamous for, as well as the striking coolness that the trees radiated as a byproduct of their chemical reactions to contrast all the heat around them.

“Do you think such things are
interesting, Private Kanters?” Elizabeth asked him.

Ian turned from where he had been running his palm over the
rigid, sharp patterns in the bark of the tassi tree he’d been examining. Almost like hard glass. “They almost seem to make the heat worse,” he said. “It’s not so bad when you’re out in it, but right next to them, at least like this, it makes the heat feel more intense when you have to go back out.”