John Ringo: There Will Be Dragons

“I promise you, we’ll find an interesting way for him to spend the rest of his miserable life. Although we might have to negotiate not to torture him, so chaining him to a rock to have his liver eaten out every day by a vulture might be out.”

“I wouldn’t ask for that,” Daneh replied. “Just… confine him. Solitary confinement. For the rest of his life.”

“Okay,” Sheida replied. “He’ll never see another human face for the rest of his life, nor hear a human voice except his own. You realize that solitary punishment like that is one of the cruelest tortures in the world? That it’s going to drive him insane, more insane that is?”

“Yes,” Daneh said coldly. “I do.”

“Done,” Sheida said, turning to Edmund. “Are you going to win this battle?”

“Probably,” he replied. “If not here, then at the town. But he’s probably got some power available for defense. Capturing him, or killing him for that matter, probably won’t be easy.”

“Just capture him,” Sheida said. “I’m trying to get you some help. If it arrives it will have the means to make sure he doesn’t escape. I’ve got to go but I’ll keep a watch on things. If Paul or Chansa notice he’s losing, I’ll see what I can do to keep them from interfering directly. But I have to go.” With that she disappeared.

“Oh, lovely,” Daneh sighed. “Thanks for leaving me here, Sis.”

“There are carts coming and going regularly from town,” Edmund said. “Now that Sheida’s gone I want to say something.”

“What?”

“I’m glad that you agreed,” Edmund sighed.

“What?” she gasped, angrily. “But…”

“Sheida is right,” he said, holding up a hand to stop her angry retort. “We need the power. But there’s more to it than that. I haven’t discussed your rape and your therapy because I’m too close to you; I’m the wrong person to help. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been… observing. And you’ve been wrapping yourself around hatred for McCanoc to a degree that’s not healthy.”

She looked at him for a long time and then sighed. “I know. But I don’t know what to do about it.”

“You just did most of it,” Edmund replied. “By using your head instead of your heart, you’ve shown, to yourself, that you can get past it. That has probably done as much for you as Bast’s little session. You’ve shown that even if McCanoc is at your mercy, you can let him live, for a good enough cause. If we had captured him, he would have been put to death. But only after a solid trial and by the rules. Emotion should have no play in it.”

“Ask a question?” she said.

“Sure.”

“If I’d said no, that is, that I wanted him dead, would you have done it? Even over Sheida’s objections?”

“Yes,” Edmund replied. “I don’t think that getting his power will ‘end the war.’ Wars are rarely, effectively never, won through simple change points like that. They’re far too complex. Killing him would have taken the power away from Paul’s faction, which would have helped. But it wouldn’t have ended the war. That said, the additional power would have been so helpful that not taking a chance at it would have been… not the best decision. But if it was the decision that you made, I would have stood by it.”

“You are so… strange, Edmund Talbot,” she sighed, smiling. “You always think of the future, don’t you?”

“If you start living in the past you’re already on the way to the grave,” Edmund commented, then smiled. “You could stay for dinner; McCanoc won’t be here tonight; he’s been running into little traps we’ve set along the road.”

“Unfortunately, I need to get back,” she said, patting him on the cheek. “I’ll stop by the aid station on my way back and check on Rachel. Do me a favor; don’t come to my tender ministrations tomorrow . They won’t be so tender.” With that she waddled off to find one of the ox carts.

“Will do,” Edmund replied, picking the sketch back up. As she walked away he set it back down and sighed. “HERZER!”

“Yes, Baron,” the triari called from the far side of the camp.

“Find McGibbon, I’ve got to pass some supplementary orders.”

When the two were there he told them of Sheida’s request but not the reason. “I know why she’s asking and I’ve agreed to abide by her wishes. He is not to be killed. Understood.”

“Yes, sir,” Herzer said, reluctantly.

“Why in the hell not?” McGibbon asked. “You know what he’s done!”

“Yes, I do,” Edmund said evenly. “And the reason is, I gave you an order. Are you going to abide by it and enforce it? Or am I going to have to ask Steinweggen to take over command?”

McGibbon’s face worked but then he nodded. “You know I’ll follow your orders, Edmund. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“None of us do,” Edmund replied. “But it’s necessary.”

“Permission to speak, sir?” Herzer said.

“You’re not a recruit anymore, Herzer,” Talbot said with a smile.

“Does Dr. Daneh know about this?” Herzer asked.

“Yes,” Edmund said.

“Uhmm…” Herzer tried to figure out a way to phrase it then shrugged. “Did she approve?”

“You’ll have to ask her,” Edmund replied. “When you get a chance.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, go spread the word.”

“One last question; I know it will come up,” McGibbon replied. “Can we at least wound him a little?”

“I doubt we’ll be able to capture him if we don’t,” Edmund replied. “But the person who kills him will answer to me.”

Herzer checked the guard posts after dinner then headed back to his packs. When he reached them he saw Bast laid out on his fur rug and he remembered that it was, in fact, hers.

“Come to reclaim your property?” he asked with a smile.

“Only if you want to call yourself that, lover,” she replied with a light in her eyes.

“Bast… this is not a good idea,” he said, squatting by the fur.

“One thing that you need to learn is that except when people are actively trying to kill you,” she said, leaning up to kiss him, “ this is always a good idea.”

“I’ve got responsibilities,” he temporized. “And I’m not going to do it right here in front of everyone.”

“We’ll cover up,” she said with a grin, flipping his blanket over her legs. “It’s getting cold anyway. Come over here and warm me up.”

Herzer took off his armor and crawled in between the fur and the blanket, wrapping her in his arms. As he did he realized that they were not by any stretch of the imagination alone. There were couples among the militia and the archers and he was pretty sure he heard some murmurings from the direction of Deann’s usual place. And Cruz wasn’t next to him for that matter.

“I hope like Mithras the sentries are paying attention to their business,” he muttered as between the two of them they got him out of his uniform.

“I’ll go check on them when you’re asleep,” she murmured, pulling him down for another kiss.

“Thank you,” he said, letting his hand wander down her side and watching the shiver it elicited. “I think I love you.”

“And I love you as well,” she murmured. “But love is not a single, perfect, emotion. You love Cruz as well.”

“What?” he asked, sitting up. “I mean, he’s a buddy, but…”

“But you are very het, my dear,” she smiled, pulling him back down. “Don’t let in so much cold air! But when you fight, you fight for your friends, for your comrades, to keep them alive as much as yourself. Yes?”