Mercedes Lackey - Oathbreaker

Kyra plainly forgot her awe and tear of magic, and the diffidence with which she had regarded her leaders, and became the professional scout beneath Sewen's prodding. The tall, bony Second was Idra's right hand and more -- where her aristocratic bearing sometimes overawed her own people, particularly new recruits. Sewen was as plain as a clod of earth and awed no one. Not that anyone ever thought of insubordination around him; he was just as respected as Idra -- it was just that he looked and sounded exactly like what he was; a common fighter who'd come up through the ranks on brains and ability. He still dressed, by preference, in the same boiled-leather armor and homespun he'd always worn, though he could more than afford the kind of expensive riveted brigandine and doeskin Idra and Tarma had chosen. He understood everything about the Hawks from the ground up -- because he'd served the Hawks since Idra's fifth year of commanding them. Idra and Tarma just leaned over the map-table with him and let him handle the young scout.

"So -- on the face of it, it bears checking. That's a task for the scouts," Idra said at last, when Kyra had finished her report. She braced both hands on the table and turned to her Scoutmaster. "Tarma, what's your plan?"

"That I take out Kyra and -- hmm -- Garth, Beaker and Jodi," Tarma replied after a moment of thought "We leave before dawn tomorrow and see what we can see. If this trail still exists, we'll follow it in and find out if the locals are right. I'll have Beaker bring a pair of his birds; one to let you know if we find the trail at all, and one to tell you yea or nay on whether it's usable. That way you'll have full information for Lord Leamount without waiting for us to get back."

"Good." Idra nodded in satisfaction, as a bit of gray-brown hair escaped to get into her eyes. "Sewen?"

"What I'd do," Sewen affirmed, pushing away from the table and sitting back onto his stool. "Them birds don't like water, but that's likely to mafce 'em want their coops more, maybe fly a bit faster, hey? Don' wanta send a mage-message, or Kelcrag's magickers might track it."

"Uh-huh; that was my thought," Tarma agreed, nodding. "That, and the sad fact that other than Keth, our magickers might not be able to boost a mage-message that far."

"I need Keth here," Idra stated, "and none of Leamount's mages are fit enough to travel over that kind of territory."

Sewen emitted a bark of laughter, weathered face crinkling up for a moment. "Gah, that lot's as miserable as a buncha wet chickens in a leaky hennery right now. They don' know this weather, an' ev'ry time they gotta move from their tent, y'd think it was gonna be a trip t' th' end of th' earth!" Idra looked thoughtful for a moment, and rubbed the side of her nose with her finger. "This isn't wizard weather, is it, do you suppose?"

Both Tarma and her scout shook their heads vigorously. "Na, Cap'n," Kyra said, cheerful light brightening her round face. "Na, is just a bit of a gentle fall storm. Y'should see a hard one, now -- "

Idra's eyebrows shot upward; she straightened and looked seriously alarmed until Sewen's guffaw told her she'd been played for an ignorant flatlander.

"Seriously, no," Tarma seconded, "I asked Keth. She says the only sign of wizard weather would be if this stopped -- that it's got too much weight behind it, whatever that means."

Sewen lifted his own eyebrow and supplied the answer. "She meant it's somethin' comin' in the proper season -- got all the weight of time an' what should be behind it." He grinned at Tarma's loose jaw, showing teeth a horse could envy. "Useta study wizardry as a lad, hadn't 'nough Gift t' be more'n half a hedge-wizard, so gave't up."

"Good, then, we're all agreed." Idra straightened her shoulders, gave her head an unconscious toss to get that bit of her hair out of her face. "Tarma, see to it. Who will you put in to replace you tomorrow?"

"Tamar. Next to Garth and Jodi, he's my best. and he's come in from the skirmishers."

"Good. And tell him to tell the rest of your scouts not to give the enemy any slack tomorrow, but not to get in as close as they did today. I don't want them thinking we've maybe found something else to concentrate on, but I don't want any more gut-wounds, either."

* * *

It was dawn, or nearly, and the rain had slackened some. There was still lightning and growling thunder, but at least you could see through the murk, and it was finally possible to keep the shielded torches at the entrance to the guarded camp alight. Tarma saw her scouts assembled beneath one of those torches as she rode up to the sentry. She felt like yawning, but wouldn't; she wouldn't be a bad example. Cold, ye gods, I'm half-frozen and we haven't even gotten out of the camp yet, she thought with resignation. I haven't been warm since summer.

:And then you were complaining about heat,: Warrl replied sardonically.

"I was not. That was Keth," she retorted. "I like the heat."

Warrl did not deign to reply.

Tarma was already feeling grateful for Kethry's parting gift, the water-repelling cape Keth had insisted on throwing over her coat. It's not magic, Keth had said, I don't want a mage smelling you out. Just tight-woven, oiled silk, and bloody damned expensive. I swapped a jesto-vath on his tent to Gerroldfor it, for as long as the rains last. I hope you don't mind the fact that it's looted goods --

Not likely, she'd replied.

So today it was Keth looking out for and worrying about her. They seemed to take it turn and turn about these days, being mother-hen. Well, that was what being partners was all about.

:Took you long enough to come to that conclusion,:

Warrl laughed. :Now if you'd just start mother-henning me-:

"You'd bite me, you fur-covered fiend."

:0h, probably.:

"Ah -- you're hopeless," Tarma chided him. smothering a grin. "Let's look serious here; this is business."

:Yes, oh mistress.:

Tarma bit back another retort. She never won in a contest of sharp tongues with the kyree. Instead of answering him, she pondered her choice of scouts again, and was satisfied, all things considered, that she'd picked the best ones for the job.

First, Garth: a tiny man, and dark, he looked like a dwarfish shadow on his tall Shin'a'in gelding. He was one of Tarma's first choices for close-in night work, since his dusky skin made it unnecessary for him to smear ash on himself, but his most outstanding talents were that he could ride like a Shin'a'in and track like a hound. His one fault was that he couldn't hit a haystack with more than two arrows out of ten. He was walking his bay gelding back and forth between the two sentries at the sally-point, since his beast was the most nervous of the five that would be going out, and the thunder was making it lay its ears back and show the whites of its eyes.

Beaker; average was the word for Beaker; size, coloring, habits -- average in everything except his nose -- that raptor's bill rivaled Tarma's. His chest-nut mare was as placid of disposition as Garth's beast was nervous, and Beaker's temperament matched his mare's. As Tarma rode up, they both appeared to be dozing, despite the cold rain coming down on their heads. Fastened to the cantle of Beaker's saddle were two cages, each the size of two fists put together, each holding a black bird with a green head. Beaker was a good tracker, almost as good as Garth, but this was his specialty; the training and deployment of his messenger birds.

Jodi: sleepy-eyed and deceptively quiet, this pale, ice-blonde child with evident aristocratic blood in her veins was their mapmaker. Besides that skill, she was a vicious knife fighter and as good with a bow as Garth was poor with one. She rode a gray mare with battlesteed blood in her; a beast impossi-ble for anyone but her or Tarma to ride, who would only allow a select few to handle her. Jodi sat her as casually as some gentle palfrey -- and with Jodi in her saddle, the mare acted like one. Her only fault was that she avoided situations where she would have to command the way she would have avoided fouled water.