David Drake - The Mirror of Worlds

Cashel said. "That's what I'd mean too." He held out his staff at arm's length to sight along, not so much because he needed to but to show Tenoctris that he understood. Now that she was young, she didn't seem to trust people quite the way she had when she was older. A wormwood bush grew from the rock maybe a furlong up the slope at the angle they'd want to travel. Above that, on the horizon along the way the arrow pointed, was a spike of rock like a nose. Both markers were like any number of other places on the hill, but they weren't thesame . Cashel wouldn't have any trouble keeping his bearings. "Then lead me, please, Cashel," Tenoctris said. She smiled apologetically.

"BecauseI certainly couldn't do that." Cashel smiled. He didn't say anything as he started along the slope, but he felt better that Tenoctris was sorry for the way she'd spoken. Everybody got snappish now and again-well, almost everybody did. But when you knew you'd done it, you at least could try not to do it again. "We aren't interested in the Messengers," Tenoctris said from behind him as he picked their way over the rock. "But their presence has drawn other things here.

It's one of those things I need, a key of sorts." "Does it really look like a key?" Cashel asked. He paused. There was an acacia in front of him, no bigger than a sapling. Knowing how slow things grew in this dry climate, though, it was probably as old as he was. "I don't know what it will look like or what it'll be made of," Tenoctris said.

"Though it might be quartz." Cashel decided to mark his line and go around instead of trampling straight on. Breaking the tree flat for Tenoctris to follow wouldn't be hard, but-well, it'd put in a lot of effort to get this old. It wouldn't hurt them to walk around. On the other side, a nub of quartz poked out of the red soil among the acacia's roots. Cashel drew his knife, a peasant's tool with an iron blade and horn scales, and scraped around the quartz. He took his time about it, careful not to nick the roots any more than he had to. If he'd flattened the little tree, chances were he wouldn't have noticed the glint of white stone. Tenoctris moved around to where she could watch. She didn't interfere, though, not even to ask why he thought this was what they were looking for. He didn't know; it'd just caught his eye. When he had the end of the milky stone dug clear, he wiped his knife and put it back into its wooden sheath. He squatted over the scraped-out cone, gripped the quartz between thumb and forefinger-just like he'd stripped the oat grass, he thought with a smile-and used his knees to pull straight up. It was only about the length of his little finger. When he pulled, it came out in a spray of red soil. He rubbed dirt off the quartz on his tunic, then held it out to Tenoctris. "Is this what you were looking for, ma'am?" he said. "Yes, Cashel," she said with a broad smile. "I believe it is. Now, let's return to our own world." Tenoctris turned and started down the hill to where they'd appeared in this sun-baked landscape. "We're going back to the grove, then?" Cashel said as he followed her carefully. "No," said Tenoctris.

She glanced over her shoulder at him with another of the odd looks she'd been giving him ever since she got young again. "I think we'll join the army on the march for Pandah. Sharina is with the army, you see." *** Sharina's foot slipped in wet clay the leading regiments had trampled to slick mud. Trooper Lires, the bodyguard to her left, swore and grabbed her arm. She hadn't been likely to fall, though, and even that would've meant nothing worse than a wetting. The scouts had charted the best route for the army's march to the southwest, but that didn't mean it was an entirely good one. Here rocky hills sloped near the edge of a lake fed by glaciers melting out of the valleys. The line of march necessarily narrowed, causing congestion and some confusion. Not even Princess Sharina could depend on firm footing.

She'd chosen to walk rather than ride a horse or be carried in a litter. This provided a good example to the troops, all of whom except Lord Waldron himself were on foot. That would've been a good enough reason to do it- But that military reason simply gave Sharina an excuse to follow her own preferences. She hadn't learned to ride when she was growing up in a peasant village to which horses were rare visitors, and she hadn't liked the animals when as a princess she'd perforce become better acquainted with them. Walking also permitted Sharina to wear practical garments instead of the court robes which propriety would otherwise have forced her into. She could shrug off what the palace servants thought about her garb, but the common soldiers too would be shocked if Princess Sharina appeared in public wearing a short cloak, a pair of tunics, and sturdy sandals like a peasant woman. The sacrifice she was making to hike alongside them was ample justification for her to wear comfortable, practical clothing instead of silk brocades. Sharina walked beside Rasile to make it clear to the army that the Corl wizard was a trusted advisor rather than a dangerous alien. Rasile could no more have made the journey on her on legs than Tenoctris could've, so she was being carried. It wouldn't be uncommon for a noblewoman going on a long journey to ride in a hammock slung between two bearers. Rasile couldn't comfortably lie on her spine, however, so she sat on a sedan chair from which the back had been removed. The two men carrying her were ordinary Valles chairmen who wouldn't ordinarily have left the city streets. They weren't having any difficulty with the route, however. Apparently cobblestone streets and dirt alleys covered with all manner of garbage were good training for muddy tracks and rocky gorges. Lord Tadai and the woman who was in charge of the logistics, Lord Hauk's senior clerk, were carried in litters. There were no wheeled vehicles: neither wagons nor carriages would've survived the first fifty miles of this expedition. Pack animals-horses, mules, and donkeys alike-carried the food and minimal baggage of the troops. The Kingdom of the Isles had depended largely on barges and cargo ships for its trade, so the size of the army marching to Pandah had been dictated by the number of animals available in Valles. "Good morning, your highness!" called Lord Waldron, watching from horseback in the midst of aides on foot as the army trudged past. He alone in the army was mounted. "Don't be surprised if there's a delay within the next three miles. The pioneers are corduroying a stretch where the bloody glacier run-off's turned the ground to quicksand, but I'm not sure they're going to reach the south end before the lead battalion comes up with them." "We can only expect the troops to accomplish what's humanly possible, milord," Sharina called back. "And I'm confident ofthat, since you're in charge." The horse wasn't merely a concession to Waldron's age-indeed, he'd have been the last man in the army to admit he couldn't march at the pace anybody else did. Attaper had told Sharina in private that the army commander would be running up and down the line of march the whole time, a task requiring that even a younger man be mounted. The advice was clearly good. The fact that Lord Attaper volunteered it to his rival's benefit was a positive comment on him-and on the spirit Garric had fostered among his officers. Waldron spoke to his aides and resumed his slow progress down the line, observing the dress of his troops and dealing out praise and correction as required. When he reached the rear guard-under Attaper's command-he'd start forward again. Waldron wasn't the most imaginative of officers, perhaps, but he was competent and utterly indefatigable in carrying out his duties. Sharina had originally wondered why her brother-and still more, King Carus-left Waldron in command of the army when he'd made it clear from the start that he didn't believe that anyone but a noble from Northern Ornifal like himself should be on the throne of the Isles. She'd come to realize what Carus had probably known instinctively, that Waldron's feelings would never affect the determination with which he carried out his duties, and that his oath was as firm as the mountains. As firm as Garric's oath, in fact; or Sharina's. The path broadened, though it was slushy with melt-water from the glacier melting out of the valley to the left. This range of hills had no name in Sharina's own time: the whole region was beneath the Inner Sea. The present valley was barren rock where it'd melted clear. The sun glinted blue from ice remaining in the deeper recesses. A monster was frozen into the face of the glacier. Indeed, the tip of a stubby wing already stuck out of the ice. "Rasile," Sharina said sharply. "What's that?