John Dalmas - The Lion Returns

Gaerimor chuckled. "First you must know people. And next you need to read auras, which Lady Cyncaidh tells me you do very well. Something my own observations tend to confirm."

Again he chuckled. "And next I needed broad information and understanding about the various governments and their commerce. Many years in government posts provided me with a good foundation.

"And Strongarm, who has long served as deputy to the King in Silver Mountain, has remarkable recall. Quite reliable, too. I learned that by asking him questions whose answers I knew, or at least knew somewhat about."

Macurdy nodded. Gaerimor had twice invited him and Varia to supper in his quarters, and questioned him about various Rude Lands matters. Macurdy had concluded that Gaerimor knew more about the Rude Lands kingdoms than he did, though perhaps he'd filled a few holes for the ylf.

"And Morguil," Gaerimor went on, "when he evacuated the government from Colroi, took literally wagon-loads of government records with him. Perhaps hoping against hope that someday the voitar would be driven out, and he'd have need of all those data. You'd be surprised how much of it there is. And when we had High Admiral Vellinghuus and General Horst brought here, I made sure they brought the armada's and army's records from Balralligh, to go with those from Deep River and Camp Merrawin. A treasure trove." He beamed at Macurdy.

Macurdy frowned. "And then what?"

"I read them, of course."

"Read them?"

"Not every word, obviously. Morguil's cache was categorized, of course. With most of it I did little more than look at major headings. If a heading looked hopeful, I explored the subheadings, and skimmed the contents of the more promising. Slowing here and there as appropriate. Fortunately his clerks were excellent penmen.

"The voitik records were much less complex but quite voluminous. I went through them with the help of aides provided by the admiral and general. It helps, of course, that their alphabet and numerals are recognizably like our own-a common origin, you know. And many of their words are similar, though the grammar is rather different. Most of the records are quantitative, and little grammar was involved."

His lordship had paused several times to sip his wine. It seemed to rejuvenate him. "That is one reason," he added, "that things went so much better after the first week. I'd developed a considerable sense of who had what, who might want what, and what was possible, you see."

Macurdy stared. "When did you have time to do all that?"

"Why at night, of course."

"Then-when did you sleep?"

"Every morning between four and six-thirty. Then I was pulled to my feet by my aide and orderly, stripped, helped or hustled outside, and rolled in the snow." He laughed aloud. "I believe they enjoyed treating an aristocrat and council member like that, once they got used to it." Pausing he added: "But tonight… Tonight, when you leave, I shall lie down and sleep till I waken. And woe to anyone who hastens the hour."

Macurdy considered a question, and decided to ask it. He didn't know much about ylvin sensitivities, but he couldn't imagine Gaerimor being offended by it. "Its amazing how you pulled it off," he said. "You didn't learn to operate like that overnight. How old are you?"

Gaerimor saw through Macurdy's verbal camouflage, and smiled amiably. "Eighty-seven years," he said, "most of them interesting, some of them challenging. I recommend old age highly. I should reach decline sometime over the next five years or so, and expect to enjoy that too. Not the decrease in capacity, or the eventual discomfort and pain. But the viewpoint… Ah, that will be interesting!"

He glanced at his clock. "And now, my honored guest, it is time for my overdue sleep."

Initially, in Duinarog, Macurdy had thought of Gaerimor as too weak to be War Minister, though Cyncaidh seemed to think highly of him. But here he'd quickly come to respect and admire the old ylf. And this night, when he left Gaerimor's quarters, it was with awe. He hoped he'd age half as well. A third.

Macurdy did some final things before leaving Colroi. He gave a copy of the Congress Agreement to Colonel Horgent, who was about to leave with his Tigers for the Cloister. Horgent would deliver it to Amnevi. Then, via the great raven network, Macurdy summarized it for her in advance. And informed her he was herewith resigning as dynast, naming her as his successor. She'd have it in writing when Horgent arrived at the Cloister.

And the next morning, when the Tiger cohorts mustered to leave Colroi, he announced to them what he'd told Amnevi the day before. He had no doubt they'd support her.

Closure

Among human beings, pure love, agape, is rare and mostly fleeting. It is sometimes approached, however, in romantic love, love of an offspring, a parent, a friend…

Ah. I see the term is unfamiliar to you. Agape is love that requires nothing of the loved one, expects no reward, and imposes no conditions at all. The soldier who throws himself on a grenade to save his comrades may well be experiencing a flash of agape.

By human standards, Mary's love for you approached agape, and was remarkably constant. As was Melody's, and Varia's on Farside. You have been thrice blessed, my friend.

Vulkan to Macurdy, on the highway to Teklapori in the spring of 1950

40 Homeward

Macurdy and Varia left Colroi on two excellent horses-officers' horses that had crossed the Ocean Sea from Hithmearc. Macurdy's was exceptionally large; he'd been given the pick of the herd. Tagging behind were two remounts and three packhorses. As usual, Macurdy did without an orderly. For companions, the couple had Vulkan and Blue Wing.

They rode briskly southwestward, headed for the Pomatik River. The countryside was farmland, fertile in season, but now a bitter snowscape. There'd been a new spate of snowy weather, and nothing resembling a thaw. When the wind blew, the snow blew. Thus there were drifts for their horses to wade through. In this they had Vulkan's help, for the boar led, his powerful bulk breaking trail.

The only forest was scattered woodlots, kept by farmers, villages and towns to provide fence rails, lumber, and especially fuelwood. Almost the only remaining buildings were of stone, and they had been burned out. The countryside seemed totally abandoned. It had been heavily picked over earlier by hithik foraging parties passing through. Whatever locals had survived the ravaging hithar had since died, or fled south out of the country.

Blue Wing helped them avoid military company. When he spotted any, he informed Macurdy and Vulkan, who made any necessary course adjustments. The Lion had been enough in the company of fighting men for a while, even those he knew and liked.

Ever curious, Blue Wing questioned Macurdy from time to time as they traveled. Mostly about Farside, and what he'd done there during his years away from Yuulith. Varia, of course, listened in. More than a little of it she hadn't heard before.

She rode beside Curtis and a step back, to watch him without distracting him. He sat relaxed but straight in the saddle, watchful, totally in charge, but with no sign of arrogance. How he'd changed since she'd seduced him that night in Indiana! He'd been a man-what a man!-yet in important respects still a boy. All his twenty-five years had been spent with his parents. Doing man's work almost since boyhood, but their youngest child, the one at home. A mostly happy, full-grown child.

And of course, she told herself, he's thinking how much I've changed. While in Colroi, he'd been heavily involved with the congress. Living together at Aaerodh would complete the healing, the growing together. He'd get to know the household staff, the farm workers, the tenants. Deal with everyday life. In winter she'd teach him to ski the forest trails, show him moose, caribou, and, with luck, jaguar, her favorites.