The Marcher Lord (Over Guard) (43 page)

“I think it’s because you’re from
Wilome,” Maddy said.

Ian frowned. “It’s not that.”

Maddy shrugged. “It’s hard to be alone in Wilome. But on this planet, people only take up twenty-five percent of the livable parts. Just think how easy it would be to get lost out here. If someone didn’t know which way to go, they could wander for years without ever seeing another person.”

“I don’t think it would be that bad,” Ian said. “Not forever of course.”

“Don’t be silly,” Maddy answered, “no one would actually like that.”

“In any case,” Ian said, realizing just how contrary he was feeling, “it’s getting late, and I had best let you retire, milady.”

“What?” Maddy said, looking at the sun, or rather trying to and having to settle for the slightly lighter area of the evening horizon. “It’s not that late, I don’t have to go to bed yet.”

“Well, unless your father has given you permission to take over one of our
night watches, I think he would prefer you to be in bed soon.”

“You’re no fun,” Maddy said, “one minute you’re talking about getting lost forever because you’d like it, and now you want to go to bed because it’s getting late
—”

“Yes, I do,” Ian said.

“Well, that’s stupid,” Maddy said. Pursing her lips, she evidently held back the degree she would have liked. “You’re no fun at all.”

That’s rich,
Ian thought.
How many of the others would have wanted to come here?

“Be that as it may,” Ian said, “I think it’s for the best.”

Maddy drew herself back together. “Very well, then. I’ll be able to find my way back—”

“I think I would rather escort you, milady.”

“Ugh, fine, be a Puritan,” she said, starting off toward her tent, Ian following in her grumbling wake.

She curtly glanced back over her shoulder u
pon reaching the front of her sleeping area. “Good evening, then.”

“Good evening, milady,”
Ian said, though she was already entering her tent. Heading off to bed, the more metaphorical kind, he grumbled a little to himself.

“Puritan?”

“Interstellar movement has progressed in well-defined phases since the Ellosian Reestablishment, with most ships of the previously prevailing, Essels-type propulsion capable of traversing tens of light years within the space of months. The new Bevish active drive method of propulsion dramatically reduces that time, no longer being nearly as subject to the whims of the solar wind, as well as areas like the Yungus Cull, which have been greatly feared since ancient times.”

—Yeoman encyclopedia entry

The next few days and their accompanying evenings passed quickly, Ian only finding time to speak with Maddy twice, and always within the somber company of Elizabeth. It wasn’t so much he felt obligated to speak to her because no one else would—well, he had, but he had also talked with her twice, which seemed plenty well enough. And in the pragmatic light of day and further thinking and further observing of the sentiments of the rest of the company, it began to feel more certain that he should probably leave it at that.

But he had said that he would watch her fly. That dangling obligation hung heav
ily, and although he really did want to see that, it loomed with the likely possibility that it would lead to further obligations.

The first evening that followed was occupied by shooting practice, which would have been
completely enjoyable if not for the captain. And the questionable fact that Rory was an altogether better marksman than he was. And Corporal Wesshire. But that much he could accept, and while he was genuinely worried for most of their contesting, Ian managed to narrowly edge over Kieran’s ending score, settling for third. All things considered, Ian was happy enough for it, and as long as he didn’t get any worse, which he wasn’t going to allow, he could only get better.

Later on in the second day
, they stumbled upon some lion tracks in the sandier dirt. This was quite exciting, as it was the first indication that they might encounter a lion yet. Will said that the tracks were already better than many hunting parties got. It came to nothing that evening, however, as the trail didn’t last long and their searches through the surrounding vicinity didn’t yield anything else.

The third day
, ironically their half-observed Sabbath, things just didn’t go well. The heat was especially bad, the brisa unruly, and the captain quarrelsome with Will over their direction.

Ian caught Maddy looking at him that evening after supper, but he did his best to avoid it. There was no time to prepare the wyverns,
not really leaving room for anything besides just talking.

Why not?

The thought came to him as he prodded his meat around his mess kit.

He had an aversion to the thought of talking to her again. It hadn’t been unpleasant, for the most part—maybe that was it. He felt slighted.

That was it, he realized. He had done all this for her, which was far more than she should expect from anyone else in their entire party, and she hadn’t shown the scantest bit of gratitude.

Sort of—maybe, he thought. But i
t didn’t matter. He knew he had to talk to her again. She probably didn’t mean anything by it—and he did like talking to her.

He carefully raised his eyes up, and fortunately she wasn’t looking back.

He did like it.

*              *              *              *

Startling roaring sound

             
                                          Ian turned in the folds of his cloak, his eyes flailing around in the dark.

“What the devil
—” he heard someone—Rory mumble nearby.

“Was that thunder?” he heard another muffled voice
ask from further off.

Ian
lay still, straining his ears. There were several long moments of the wind through the grass and the camp moving. Corporal Ellis Hanley was in the midst of rousing Brodie up—

Then it came again, louder, more directly this time, a tremendous
roar that peaked quickly, somewhere deep inside Ian’s chest.

“T
he lion,” he whispered.

“Everyone up,” Ellis said as the
ir captain’s voice was heard closer to the noble family’s tents. “Keep your rifles close.”

Ian rushed about his sleeping area, pulling his overcoat and boots on. He did a quick
prioritization of his equipment and happily didn’t need most of it. It was cool enough that he didn’t need his regulator, he needed his yeoman, didn’t need most of his pack items, though no—he would take some rations and water just in—

Ian looked up at Ellis. “
Shouldn’t we have some men near—”

“
Kanters and Williams,” Corporal Hanley told them, his face showing that he had been thinking the same thing, “stay with the noble family until further word. Come on, Brodie, let’s get to the captain.”

“Come on, then,” Ian said to Rory, the other
man snapping back that he was.

A couple minutes
later and Rory was ready. It was a short ways to the noble family’s tents, and the captain and Lord Wester hadn’t gone all that far yet. They looked like they had been ready for several minutes. The margrave was loading cartridges as they worked out the finer details with Will.

“Wouldn’t want to be chasing no lion in the dark,” Rory muttered, Ian already positive that he was going to be suffe
ring through his second man’s extra sleep deprivation all through the next day.

“There’s not much other time to do it,” Ian said
, trying to sound disinterested to mask that he was actually trying to soothe Rory over, “the red lion is rarely active during the day. They hunt through the night, but especially at twilight and dawn.”

“What do you know about it?
” Rory answered, but in a low and genuinely disinterested voice.

Both
noble daughters were standing outside their tents in their night robes. One of their servants was also nearby, looking as though he hoped to stay behind while the others left for the lion, and to some happy compromise the margrave soon thereafter ordered one of them to come with him. The other two were to watch after the brisa while most of the Chax guides went with the hunting party.

“I can’t believe a single thing could make so much noise,” Maddy said, her eyes alight. There was maybe a little fear in it, but Elizabeth kept her arms crossed and
just looked tired. Maddy quickly turned to Ian as they arrived—“You need to come with me, the wyverns are having fits.” Very audible fits. “I was going to bring them here, but father won’t let me go anywhere without one of you.”

“All right,
I’ll go,” Ian said, glancing at Rory. “We’ll hurry.”

“Thank you,” Maddy said as she darted off
, Ian after her.

They hadn’t gone three paces when another roar rushed through the air, further off this time though. The low moans of the
brisa followed and then the wyverns’ panicked sounds.

“Ugh,” Maddy shivered as they sped up
into a careful run, “it makes chills go up my back.”

“I think that’s pretty normal,” Ian said, though he wouldn’t admit it did the same to him. “Will
said there’s something psychological in the sound the lions make. It’s designed to affect other animals.”

They reached
where the wyverns were tied a little outside of camp without mishap. The creatures were tremulous. Hitchie in particular was shaking heavily. But Maddy was able to calm them enough to get them untied and brought back in front of the tents just in time to see Lord Wester departing with most of their rangers. Only Rory and Ellis were left, and Elizabeth quickly retired back inside her tent.

“Jolly tides,” Ian murmured after the rest of the company. The men looked evenly disheveled
, but also excited, eager. While Ian didn’t find the hunting circumstances as ideal as he would have liked, he couldn’t help feeling a distinctive pang at watching them go after the largest reason why they were here.

“I hope father will be all right,” Maddy said as they worked to secure the wyvern’s harnesses.

Ian grimly worked at their chore. He had taken Hitchie for Maddy because she was the most unruly, and as soon as Ian had secured her, he helped the margrave’s daughter finish with Cuppie. Both wyverns ended up close enough to Maddy’s tent that they could poke their heads through the front.

But once that was finished, and
Ian surveyed the grumpy remnants of their camp—as sapped of enthusiasm as if the rest of their company had pilfered the best bits with them—he found no real reason to be disgruntled or disappointed.

“It’ll be morning soon,” Ian said, glancing at his yeoman as he settled down between the wyverns just outside of Maddy’s tent, Hitchie pressing around him.

Maddy looked a little out of sorts as she also surveyed the camp and then sat down just inside her tent, her wyverns at its edge. She yawned. “The lion could have waited a little longer. Lousy hour to get up to.”

“Maybe,” Ian said, “but it’s these kinds of hours you’ll always remember.”

She turned her face toward him blearily, her expression not quite as optimistic.

“In fact,
” Ian said, “I feel sorry for all those people across the empire who are sleeping now. Most of them wish all their lives to be able to have hours like these.”

Rory only gave the barest effort to grunt in disagreement as he shifted away, half
-sitting and looking very much like he wished he didn’t have to bother with even that much.

“You’re probably the kind of person who likes getting up this early,” Maddy said, sort of smirking.
“To plow your fields.”

Ian froze, thinking for a moment he might have heard gunfire in the distance, but decided that he hadn’t. “I like it if it’s worth it. Time is life’s currency, and
there’s nothing to regret as long as it’s well spent.”

Maddy picked her way down to
lie on the inside of her tent, pulling some blankets from inside after her. “You’re crazy. There’s nothing worth this time of day.”

Still listening in the distance, Ian
found it hard to disagree with her.

“Where did you hear that saying?” she asked him.

“Which? That time is life’s currency?” Ian looked at her. “What makes you think that it isn’t mine, milady?”

She stared at him for a moment before a grin broke through.
“Because you wouldn’t be smiling like that. Tell me who you heard it from, I command you.”

“Well, it’s fortunate then that I’m not officially on duty for another hour.”

She laughed. Hard and bright.

Ian
smiled too, a little, though he didn’t realize it until he looked over and saw Ellis watching them with an empty expression. Reigning himself in guiltily, Ian decided that there was nothing he could do.

“You may return to bed, milady,” he said.

“I can’t sleep now,” she said. “Please, tell me. Where did you hear that from?”

Ian
settled back on his elbows. “An old friend of my family’s. Old Peter Narelli. He spent a lot of time at our home after—well, all through when I was growing up. He’s very wise.”

Maddy rested her chin on top of her fists, looking sleepy. “What else did he say?”

“Oh, all sorts of everything, really,” Ian said. “He talks most about history, mostly because we both liked that best. But … well, I suppose he taught me not to worry about things.”

“That’s … silly.”

“No, it’s not. Push your best and leave all the rest to the Lord. That’s what he always says. Who can add a single minute to their life by worrying?”

“Did you worry a lot?”

“I used to,” Ian said. “I used to worry about a lot of things. About not getting enough done, or not getting things done fast enough. But it never helps.”

“I don’t think you were ever a worrier,” Maddy said, yawning. “You’re too optimistic.”

“I’m better than I used to be,” Ian insisted. “I just realized that when it comes down to it, most of the things people worry about never actually happen. I say it doesn’t make sense to start worrying until all the cards are down on the table.”

“And that’s something you said?” She was smiling
up at him again.

He almost wished she wouldn’t do that so often, it was getting harder to take.
It wasn’t so much that it was unpleasant, no it was actually—

Ian
stopped at the thought, holding it, turning it over in perplexity.

“It is,” he said, looking away awkwardly.

He liked it when she smiled.

*              *              *              *

The loose remnants of their camp waited and talked some for the next several hours. A little after sunrise, Corporal Hanley had Rory and Ian make breakfast, to no splendid result. But it was an amiable, if distantly tense time.