Роберт Асприн - Forever After

“Really?” Seth’s grin suddenly turned serious. “Thank you, General, I’ll clear now, if you permit.”

“Carry on, Seth,” she said, “I’ll be turning in as soon as I wash.”

When Domino entered the tent, Jord held up one hand, indicating that she should not interrupt him. She unstrapped her armor, putting the pieces outside for Seth to oil. Jord continued scribbling for so long that she was nearly asleep when he finally turned down the lamp and came to join her.

“Domi! Domi!” He poked her softly. “Wake up, honey.”

“Urm,” she said, rolling cooperatively into his arms. “Finally done studying for tonight? How much work do you have left, anyhow?”

He let her go. “Don’t be petty, Domino. The scroll of Gwykander is a cranky old artifact written in archaic script by some older sorcerer.”

“No, don’t get me wrong,” Domino said, squeezing him close. “I appreciate how difficult what you are doing is, but people have been commenting about how slowly we’ve been traveling. I’m going to need to pick up the pace.”

“Uruck!” Jord gasped. “Domino, ease up! You’re breaking my ribs!”

She let him go all at once and he fell back, alternatingly gasping and chuckling. When he had his breath back, he snuggled her again.

A few minutes later, he paused long enough to comment, “I should be done in a couple of days.”

“Jord, I knew you were good, but,” Domino blushed. “Oh. The scroll. Forget it and attend to your General.”

“I am at attention, my lady.”

The next morning, Domino met with Rafe and divided up the Company.

“We’ve been taking things too easily,” she said. “I believe that we can count on the Magical Folk to help with the defense of the wagons, so we’ll leave a minimal force here under Chase’s command. If I recall, Kerran did some work on fortifications during the war.”

“That’s right, sir,” Rafe said. “He’s actually a fine carpenter, though he doesn’t care to admit it.”

“Very good. I want him to select a small group who will ride ahead of the day’s travel and set up gallows for us where the wagons should camp at day’s end.”

“They’ll be ready for us then,” Rafe said with a wolfish grin, “but hangings don’t take that long to set up.”

“Ah, but that’s not all they’ll be doing,” Domino replied. “I have been warned that we are releasing ‘haunts’ and that the best way to entrap them is to perform our hangings at crossroads. So…“

“You’re going to have them build crossroads?” Rafe said. “To where?‘

Domino took a stick and drew two intersecting lines, “Crossroads.” She surrounded them with a circle. “And the road that they feed into.”

Rafe studied the quartered circle. “Very clever, a ghost trap. I’ll brief Kerran at once.”

As the Company advanced into the mountainous Lake District, Domino and Rafe found excellent hunting. The hilly, isolated area offered good land for grapes, beef and dairy cattle, and a tourist industry that was beginning to thrive again now that the epic battles with Kalaran were fading into history. The bandits did not treasure the area for its limited wealth alone, but for the culverts, gullies, ravines, and caves that gave them shelter after a long day of theft and pillaging.

The two leaders urged their men to think like men on the run — not a difficult task since during the darkest days of the war against the Fallen Sunbird many of them had been men on the run. Competition between the teams was fierce and those soldiers relegated to guard duty soothed their savaged egos by betting on everything from how many bandits would be captured on a given day to how long each would take to hang.

Jord continued his private competition with the scroll, his usually casual manner vanishing when he set to work. Yet, although he was nearly finished, the expression with which he regarded the artifact did not reflect pleasure or accomplishment, but something far more grim.

“Look at that, Domino,” he said to her one night, “really look. The average, run-of-the-mill artifact — like the ring or the sword or the amulet — reaches out and grabs you with its power. They’re made of precious metals, lavished with gems, and hold in themselves the power to actively shake reality. But this is so plain.”

“Plain?” Domino pointed to an elaborate illuminated tracery that curled down and became a border. “This isn’t plain.”

“Plain may be the wrong word,” Jord agreed, “subtle would be closer to what I mean. The power both is and is not in the scroll. It’s in the words, in the knowledge. It’s in the choosing of one word over a synonym or a certain meter over one equally good, but somehow not right. The power of the scroll of Gwykander is in the written word that holds in its curves and angles the thoughts and dreams and aspirations of some long-ago writer. I tell you, Domi, sometimes the power of those words just overwhelms me.”

Domino squeezed his hand. “Poet, you are beyond this simple soldier, but I think I understand. Keep the scroll safe until we get to the Lake; that’s all I ask.”

She hugged him. “I’ve got to go. Want to come and see some people hanged? Kerran has made a really pretty circle this time and I think you need some entertainment. You’ve been working too hard.”

“You’re good to me, Domino,” he said, slipping the scroll into its case. “I could use a break.”

“Come on, then. They won’t start without me, but we’d better hurry.” She tousled his hair. “It’ll be nice having you there. I’m just sorry I can’t hold your hand while I’m on duty.”

“I’ll make up for it later,” he promised.

Two nights and two dozen hangings later, Domino catnapped while Jord worked on his translation. Earlier that evening, the officers had dined within the ghost trap — something of a consolation for the engineer when neither of the teams had brought in any bandits.

“Kerran did himself in tonight,” she commented sleepily. “I felt terrible that we didn’t have anyone for him to hang after his Corp went to the trouble of building the ghost trap out of stone, complete with lintels to use for gallows.”

“I thought it was especially nice when they ignited the straw dummies to give us corpse light to dine by,” Jord added without looking up from his work.

“Lovely and eerie,” Domino agreed. “What are you scowling at? You’re going to put lines on your face if you keep on.”

He didn’t smile at her joke, but gestured for her.

“Domino, come and look at this, please. I need you to check my memory, not that either of us is likely to forget the night that Kalaran was slain.”

“No,” Domino said, kneeling next to him. ‘There we were — I was one of those delegated to guard Agonamerince and I was champing at the bit while Rango and Rissa used their toys to strip Kalaran of his magic and beat at him. I hate to speak ill of the Prince, but I don’t think the duel would have taken as long if he’d let me have the sword.“

“Braggart,” Jord chided. “Now, after they got Kalaran down you brought Agonamerince forward and he started reading off the exorcism from the scroll of Gwykander. I had my eyes shut — listening to the roll of the Thermaean as Agonamerince did his reading. I seem to recall that things stopped rather suddenly.”

“Yes.” Domino nodded. “Agonamerince was having a bit of trouble; the entire situation was a strain on the old man, but he kept on reading. Finally, Kalaran sighed, rolled his eyes, seemed to smile faintly, choked, and went limp. I was rather distracted, however, because Agonamerince grabbed his chest as soon as he’d finished reading and crumpled. Poor fellow’s heart gave out on him.”