David Drake - The Mirror of Worlds

"And not do as much've this as Pendill'n me have." The other trapper-the men were cousins-chatted affably with Kore as he fitted her with the chest band and shoulder straps that they'd already cut and sewn. Garric glanced at them. "Ah," he said, though he knew it was a silly question, "you and your cousin aren't related to any poets, are you?" "Poet?" said Winces, frowning. "What's a poet?" "Someone who puts words together so they have rhythm and maybe rhyme," Garric said in embarrassment. Carus was laughing in his mind, and Shin turned to laugh as well. "There was a famous poet of the same name as your cousin, but I realize he must've lived a long time after, well, you do." "I could've done a little better than friend Winces," the ghost of Carus said. "But I won't pretend I'd have cared any more about poetry than he does. It's one of those things I never saw much point in, like learning to rule without keeping my hand on my sword all of the time." Orra came through the passageway carrying two bulging saddlebags over his left shoulder; his tunic bulged with the bulk of the money belt concealed beneath it. He was trying to be unobtrusive about the fact he held a small crossbow. It was cocked. "Master Orra!"

Garric called. He waved but deliberately didn't stand and walk the five or six double-paces over to the other traveller. Orra was obviously nervous about seeing him; he'd kept his face turned, watching Garric only out of the corner of his eyes. "Tsk!" Carus snorted. "Watching the ogre, more likely. And I don't know that I'd blame him." "Ah, yes, Lord Garric," Orra said, staying close to the wall of the inn. His posture hinted that he'd have liked to rush into the stables without speaking, but he knew that he couldn't saddle his mount and ride out before Garric reached the entrance.

"Congratulations! I saw you rush into the middle of things last night, and I'll admit I didn't expect a good result." Winces looked at Orra and snorted, then went back to his leatherwork. Shin, Pendill, and Kore hadn't paid him any attention to begin with. Garric rose slowly to his feet and stretched. "I didn't expect this particular good result myself," he said. "Assuming it's a good one, of course. Be that as it may, I've a favor to ask you. Master Hann told me that you're riding south?" Orra looked even warier than before. "I've no taste for company, milord!" he said sharply. "These are hard times, and I hope you'll not feel insulted if I say that a man's better off by himself than at close quarters with a stranger. I've a crossbow here-" He lifted it slightly. "-that I loose off at anything that comes up on me. Anything or anyone." "It's nothing like that, sir," said Garric.

He kept his friendly smile, but he couldn't help thinking of how useful an ally with a crossbow would've been while he faced the ogre.

"I'd like you to give notice that I'm on my way when you reach the next inn. I trust you can see your way clear to doing that?" Orra frowned. He was a merchant of some sort, or at least said so. Neither Master Hann-who might have lied out of policy-nor Megrin-who'd have told the truth if only to spite his father-had been sure what Orra's precise business was. "What do you mean, notice?" he said warily.

"Hostelries here in the Great Forest don't have royal suites, you know." "I didn't imagine they did," Garric said, finding his smile increasingly hard to maintain. "But I'd like them to know that the man who'll be arriving soon on an ogre is friendly and pays in good coin despite the strangeness of his mount." He reached into his purse and spilled coins from one hand to the other-copper and silver only, of course. Gold would be as difficult to change in this wilderness as it was in Barca's Hamlet; a traveller might as well try to barter lodging with rubies. "I don't want to cause needless concern," Garric said.

Silently he added, Nor do I want to learn there are folk more willing to fight an ogre than you were last night. "Yes, all right, I can do that," Orra said. He paused a few heartbeats, then said, "Now, if you'll forgive me, I must be off. Good luck to you on your journey, sir." "And to you, Master Orra," Garric said, but the other man had already vanished into the stables. "All right, let's try this on," said Winces, patting the strap he'd completed. His hand was scarcely less tough than the tanned pigskin. "If we've got the length right, then it's only left to sew them together and you've a saddle." "Yes, dear master," said Kore, standing at her full height. One leg strap with its stirrup hung from her chest band; the sling that Garric was to sit in was ready though not yet tied in place. "I'm so looking forward to displaying my talents as a beast of burden." "I didn't ask you to kill my horse," Garric said sharply. "I didn't particularly care for the animal, but I didn't have to worry about it being sarcastic." "You didn't know what it was thinking," the ogre said. "It would be dishonest of me to dissemble my feelings the way that brute beast did." Master Orra trotted out of the stables on his white horse.

He turned through the passage to the main track without speaking further or even looking back. Garric sighed. "Kore," he said, "I've promised you I'd be a good master. I would appreciate it if you didn't goad me into using the flat of my sword on you, all right? Because at some later point I'd probably regret having done so." The ogre laughed; Shin laughed with her. And after a moment, Garric laughed also. *** "This is far enough for today," Ilna said, though the sun was scarcely midway from zenith to the western horizon. They'd been marching through evergreen scrub since daybreak, and this mound of grass and flowers under a holly oak attracted her. They weren't in a hurry, after all. Asion brought up the rear. He nodded, put two fingers to his lips, and blew a piercing summons. Karpos was out of sight ahead of the rest of the party today. The hunters said the whistle was a marmot's warning call. Ilna didn't doubt that, but she couldn't see that the form of signal provided any concealment here where there weren't any marmots. "I'll set some rabbit snares," Asion said. "Maybe a deadfall too. There's plenty of wild pigs, judging by the droppings." Ilna nodded. She was suddenly very tired. Asion vanished into the brush. "What is our goal, Ilna?" asked Temple. He was laying a fire-set around a dry hemlock twig which he'd furred with his dagger. He didn't look up from his work when he spoke. "Mygoal is to kill all catmen," she said sharply. "You're welcome to leave if you don't approve of that." "I've joined you, Ilna," Temple replied, smiling down at his neat workmanship. "It's my destiny, I believe. But I was curious as to where we're going." She snorted. "In the longer term, we're going to die," she said harshly. "Until that happens, I'm going to act as if life had meaning and kill catmen." Ilna turned and walked up the mound. She didn't know what it was about the big man that irritated her. Perhaps it was that she got the feeling he was judging her, though he never said anything of the sort. Temple glanced up at her. "You've earned your rest, Ilna," he said. "We'll rouse you when dinner's ready." "I'm just sitting down," Ilna snapped. "I'm not planning to go to sleep." When she sat and leaned her back against the oak, she felt a rush of weariness. She frowned; there wasn't any reason for it that she could see. Every morning she knotted a small pattern to give them a direction of march. That took more effort than might be expected by someone who didn't do wizardry-for she was forcing herself now to admit that her talentwas wizardry rather than simply an unusual skill at weaving. Still, a trivial prediction wasn't enough to explain her present longing for sleep. Wildflowers brightened the mound like embroidery on a coverlet of grass. There were buttercups and pink and blue primroses. She thought she saw gentians as well, but she'd have had to get up to make sure. She didn't care to find the energy to do that. Merota had loved flowers.