Covenants (v2.1) Page 4

  “I’m just a farmer’s son from the Border, Laurel Faena,” I said, setting aside the images of pandemonium and riot that his plans evoked, “no matter how my da stands before the Council. I can’t see how my presence would help, but I can easily see how it could hinder. A lot.”

  “Farmer’s son, true,” Laurel said. “But you are also the nephew of Lord Chause, thirty-two lines to the throne of the kingdom, no? The grandson of Lord Flavan, forty lines to the throne?”

  “Well, yes, but my parents left all that.”

  “Does that make you any less the nephew or the grandson?”

  I’d once met a couple of lordlings who were stranded in Freston during a winter’s storm. In their sneering arrogance, they’d reminded me of the underbelly of a toad— soft, white, and poisonous—and they cured any desire I had to claim nobility. I wasn’t about to start now. I opened my mouth to say so but Captain Suiden spoke first.

  “You have valid points, Sro Laurel, but Rabbit belongs to my troop and with my troop he will stay. Further, I must take this request to my commander before a course of action can be decided.”

  “Why? Does he not trust your judgment?”

  The captain stared at me, his eyes now blazing, but I shook my head. I hadn’t told Laurel the commander’s words.

  “Don’t look so surprised, honored captain. You’re here without a multitude of soldiers.”

  “Commander Ebner trusts me to fact-find and report back to him, not to have one of my men go haring off on your say-so,” Captain Suiden said, each word deliberate. He set his teacup down.

  “So while we dither about, blood is spilled and our rage grows until war is unavoidable.” Laurel pointed at the feather pinned to my tunic. “There is an obligation.”

  “I will not be coerced or manipulated.” The captain’s anger filled the tent and pressed down on us. “Don’t tell me that you had nothing to do with us being lost.”

  Laurel growled, showing his eyeteeth, and lifted up on his haunches. “I did not. I am no swindler.”

  “Ballocks.”

  “Sir,” I said, trying hard to keep my voice from shaking. “If Laurel Faena said he didn’t cause us to be lost, he didn’t. He wouldn’t lie, sir. Any more than you would commit treason.” I turned to Laurel and saw that his pupils took up almost all of his irises. I swallowed hard. “And Laurel Faena, Captain Suiden is right. I’m obliged to you, but I also have an obligation to Commander Ebner. I would break faith and be declared a deserter if I were to leave without his permission.” Stalemate. Oh, please God, I prayed, do not make me choose.

  “If I may make a suggestion, sir,” Lieutenant Groskin said. He waited for Captain Suiden’s nod before he continued. “What if we were to send a trooper back to Commander Ebner with a report? The horses had an easy ride yesterday and a good rest last night. Whoever’s sent should make base before sunset and we should have an answer tomorrow morning, latest.” There was a moment’s quiet as Laurel sank down until he was sitting again. Suiden raised his eyebrows at him. “Is this acceptable?”

  “It is acceptable.”

  “Do it,” Captain Suiden said to Groskin.

  Lieutenant Groskin got up, carefully edged around the cups and tea tray, and left the tent. The captain picked up his cold and probably very bitter tea and took a sip. At the same time Laurel began to preen, running his tongue over his paw. Both stopped with a grimace and Laurel lowered his paw while the captain put his cup down again. They did not look at each other as we sat in silence.

  A few moments later, Lieutenant Groskin opened the tent flap and peered in. Captain Suiden made a sharp gesture for him to enter.

  “I sent Ryson’s tentmate,” Groskin said as the flap closed behind him. “I figure that his nose deserved a reprieve.” The captain stared at Groskin and the lieutenant’s smile faded. He cleared his throat. “He understands, sir, that he is not to linger but as soon as he gets an answer from Commander Ebner to return here. I also took the liberty, sir, to have him ask for additional supplies if the commander approves us escorting the mag—uhm, Laurel Faena.” Lieutenant Groskin, problem solver and forward thinker. My brain tried to shut down again.

  “Very good, Lieutenant,” Captain Suiden said. “You and Lieutenant Rabbit are dismissed.”

  We both were out of the tent so fast that the flaps swung back and forth for a few moments before settling into place. Groskin and I stared at each other and I wondered if I looked as wild-eyed as he did. We both turned and looked at the tent entrance. Laurel was not exiting. We waited for a moment but Groskin probably decided, as I did, that Laurel Faena could take care of himself. We started walking away, our steps picking up speed.

  “Did you see, sir?” I asked. “How the captain’s eyes—”

  Groskin’s feet moved faster. “I’ve never seen him so angry,” he said over me.

  “But—”

  Groskin reached his tent and dived in. I stood staring after him; then feeling incredibly exposed, I went to hide among the other troopers, figuring there was safety in numbers.

  I played least in sight for the rest of the day. But when I fell asleep that night I dreamed of being made into taffy.

  Chapter Six

  I was awakened the next morning by the sounds of hooves and men’s shouts echoing up the mountain trail. Looking around, I could see that the sun was well risen and Jeff gone, so I jumped up and quickly dressed. Before I left the tent, though, I unpinned the feather from my tabard and stowed it in my saddlebag. I figured I had made my point and now it was time to lie low. Very low. I slunk over to the cookfire to see if there was anything left of breakfast.

  “I set aside some eggs for you, Lieutenant,” Basel said, beaming. “I’ll whip them up right quick. Got some herbs too. From my garden—I picked them fresh just before we left.”

  “It’s not your garden, Basel,” I said, exasperated. “It’s the garrison’s and what’s grown there is for the officers only—” I broke off and Basel’s beam cranked up a notch.

  “Yes, Lieutenant, sir. I’ll also have your water when you’re ready to shave.” After shaving and eating, I slipped in with the rest of the troop as they watched the newcomers arrive, acting like I had been there all along. As soon as I saw who had returned with the messenger, though, I scowled.

  “I say, Suiden, splendid view you have here,” Captain Javes said. He had dismounted and was looking around through his quiz glass. He wore his parade dress uniform and a sword with fine filigree work on the hilt that would snap the first time he tried to use it. Captain Suiden and Lieutenant Groskin stood before him in their field uniforms, and there was no sign of Laurel.

  “Look, Rabbit,” a trooper said. “A kindred spirit.”

  “Rather not,” Jeff said before I could, talking through his nose. He peered at Captain Javes’ highly polished boots. “Habbs in the country? Devilish bad form.” Snorting a laugh, I scanned the complement still arriving and saw Lieutenant Slevoic sneering into the morning sun, and frowned. Slevoic was not Javes’ regular lieutenant.

  “Oh, my word,” Javes continued. “I’ll be forgetting my head next.” He handed Captain Suiden a dispatch pouch that had so many seals and ribbons on it that it looked like a Festival ornament. Even Slevoic couldn’t have opened it without leaving a trace.

  Captain Suiden took the pouch and made a brief speech of welcome, inviting Captain Javes to join him later for tea. After he was done, he turned and disappeared back into his tent. Lieutenant Groskin caught sight of me and headed my way. The group around me melted away.

  “I guess we’re going to escort the magical,” the lieutenant said when he reached my side.

  That was a safe assumption, as the packhorses kept coming up the trail. When the last one crested the ridge, I turned away and shot a look at Lieutenant Slevoic. He had dismounted and was standing with a couple of other troopers. As I watched, Ryson walked up to them and joined in their conversation. “Damn,” I muttered to myself, then glanced over at Groskin. “Uh, sir.”


  Groskin grunted in agreement. “Yeah, damn is right.” He then faced me and grinned, his eyeteeth sharp. “And don’t call me ‘sir.’ Only the captains are ‘sir,’ to you.” He looked at Slevoic.”While there are some who may seem ‘untouchable’—” Untouchable?Slevoic probably didn’t have to bathe as nothing seemed to stick. “—you rank everyone here, Rabbit, and don’t let anyone say different. No matter how well they’re connected.”

  I now frowned at Groskin. “Sir—I mean, connected how?”

  “Politics, Rabbit. Slevoic has relatives who are close to the king. But then, so do you.” With that, he turned on his heel and went into Captain Suiden’s tent.

  I turned on my own heel and headed for my tent, thinking that a nap before lunch would be good. I opened the flap and went in—and nearly bounced out again. Laurel was sitting against Jeff’s bedroll. In his hand was the feather.

  “I give you good morning, Lord Rabbit,” he said.

  I entered all the way and let the flap fall.

  “Good morning, Laurel Faena,” I said. I sat down on my bedding and waited.

  “I came in here to be out of the way until the good captain decides to introduce me to the new arrivals,” Laurel said. He held up the feather. “I knocked over your pouches by accident and it fell out.” I remembered my speech to Captain Suiden yesterday about lies and Faena, and held my tongue. He handed the feather to me and I placed it back in my saddlebag.

  “You do not wear it?”

  “I’m not repudiating my obligation, Laurel Faena.” My voice was sharp and I made an effort to even it. “It’s that wearing it could be a provocation just now.”

  “I see.”

  I pulled off my boots (standard issue, not Habbs) and placed them by my saddlebags. I had come in to take a nap and nothing was going to stop me. I lay down on my bedding and closed my eyes.

  “It is amazing how much the good captain’s eyes look like Dragoness Moraina’s, especially when she’s annoyed,” Laurel said.

  My own eyes slammed open.

  “And when the lieutenant smiles he reminds me of my own sire.” I rose up on my elbows and stared at the mountain cat. At last, someone was seeing what I had.

  “Where do the People come from, Lord Rabbit?” Laurel asked.

  Bards prophesy through song, while to mages knowledge is power. Dragons seek the Pearl of Wisdom, elves hold their histories, lineages and swords sacred. And the Faena practice illumined questioning that leads to enlightenment, which when inflicted on me always made me want to start the cult of Ignorant Bliss.

  I sat up, swallowed my bile and replied, “The Border, Laurel Faena.”

  “And before that?” Laurel asked. I looked at him blank faced and he sighed. “Do you believe that we descended from a comet’s tail, or were spewed from a volcano, or sprang up complete from divinity’s head as some vicars teach?”

  I shook my head.

  “So where did we come from?”

  We were formed from the dust. “The land.”

  “Which land?”

  “This one,” I said, and stopped. Damn, I’d been enlightened.

  “Yes.” Laurel smiled. “The land Iversterre now rests on, its denizens living and dying in the same place that we did, our ancestors’ bones and ashes part of every bite, every drink. In the very dust they breathe.” He extended the claws on one paw and examined them. “What do you think that is doing to these denizens?” I thought about Captain Suiden’s glowing emerald eyes and his taste for tea in fine porcelain cups, and how lightly we always stepped around him. Lieutenant Groskin’s purring and eyeteeth, and how the troop stepped lightly around him too. Damn it again, more enlightenment.

  Laurel, content with the points he made, fell silent, and I lay back down on my bed, staring at the tent ceiling.

  “Laurel Faena, how did the troop become lost?” I asked after a moment. Turn about, after all, was fair play.

  “A good question, Lord Rabbit. Someone interfered. Now the next questions are who did so and why?”

  Chapter Seven

  “Smashing carpet, Suiden,” Captain Javes said as he looked at the rug down through his quiz glass.

  We were gathered in Captain Suiden’s tent after lunch, Groskin once more preparing tea. I thought that Suiden might’ve scrounged up some furniture for this meeting, but we were again seated on the floor of the tent with the same fat pillows to lean back on. Not that I dared lounge.

  Javes aimed his quiz glass at me. “Though I am rather surprised that this trooper is privy to our little council, what?” I tried to ignore the effect of his eye hideously magnified by his glass, glad that I had resisted buying one for myself.

  “Rabbit has been field promoted to lieutenant,” Captain Suiden said. I noticed he didn’t say that it was only for the duration of the mission.

  Javes dropped his glass and for a brief moment his eyes narrowed in speculation. Then he resumed his silly ass look. “Oh. Then congratulations, Lieutenant Rabbit. Good show.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  There was a stir at the tent flap and I heard, “Trooper Jeffen escorting the magic—uh, Laurel Faena, sir.”

  “Very good, trooper. Show him in,” Suiden said.

  Captain Javes leveled his glass at Laurel as he walked into the tent. Laurel bowed, a graceful effort that sent his tail back out the tent flap.

  “Good afternoon, honored captains and lieutenants.” Laurel gave a shorter bow. “Good afternoon, Lord Rabbit.” Captain Javes slued around and stared at me, his glass forgotten, dangling by its ribbon around his neck, while Lieutenant Slevoic choked on a mouthful of tea. Apparently Ryson hadn’t passed that tidbit on.

  “Ibn Chause e Flavan,” Groskin murmured. He was purring again.

  Laurel, satisfied, sat down next to Captain Suiden. A soft rumble emanated from him too.

  “Chause and Flavan! Why—” Captain Javes broke off. He turned to Suiden. “Of course you had to promote him. I mean, once you found out—”

  “I’ve always known, Javes,” Suiden said. “So has Commander Ebner. It was no secret.”

  “But a common trooper!”

  “It was what Rabbit wanted and at the time we could accommodate him. Times, though, have now changed.” Suiden reached into the now opened dispatch pouch and retrieved the documents. They also had multiple seals and ribbons. Commander Ebner wanted to make sure there was no question as to whom the orders were coming from. And to prevent any forged ones being slipped in. “Shall we discuss our mission?” It was as Groskin and I had guessed. We were to accompany Laurel Faena to the Royal City. The combined troops were to provide a suitable escort and make sure he arrived safely. Javes was blank-faced at the part where Captain Suiden had been given command.

  “Commander Ebner writes that he has sent news of our pending arrival to the Court,” Suiden said. “He has also sent ahead to inform the different city governors of our possible presence in their jurisdictions, asking that they assist us as needed.”

  So much for this being a covert operation.

  “Lieutenant Groskin,” Suiden said, “please bring me the map kit.” Groskin stood and walked to the rear of the tent, returning with a leather tube that he handed to the captain. Suiden opened it up, pulled out the rolled maps and laid them down on the cleared rug. “Lieutenant Rabbit, if you would please open the tent door to let some light in.” As I rose I heard the faint scurrying of footsteps on grass. I tied the flaps back, scanning to see who was stupid enough to spy on the captain, but saw nothing out of the ordinary so I ducked back in. The captain waited until I was seated.

  “Here we are.” Captain Suiden pointed to a very small dot in the upper part of the map. He traced south. “There’s Iversly.” He tapped his finger once on the crown representing the city. “The commander suggests that we follow the mountain route to the Gresh Transom, take the Transom down to the King’s Road, and follow the Road until we reach Gresh. There we can sail down the Banson to the Royal City.” He looked up
at Captain Javes and Laurel Faena. “It should take us approximately three weeks. Is that acceptable?”

  “Yes,” said Captain Javes.

  “It is acceptable,” Laurel replied.

  “Very good.” Suiden waved at the maps and Lieutenant Groskin began rolling them up. “We will leave right after first meal tomorrow.” The captain nodded dismissal and we left the tent. Laurel headed for the stream to meditate, I supposed, and Captain Javes went to the pickets, I also supposed to check on his horse. I expected Lieutenant Slevoic to follow Javes but to my surprise he stopped next to me.

  “So you’re an aristo, puke.”

  On second thought, I wasn’t so surprised.

  One would think that with his penchant for others’ pain, Slevoic would look like a vaudeville villain, but his blue eyes and open face did not show any of the malevolence that lurked below the surface as he stared at me.

  “Lay off, Slev,” Groskin said from beside me.

  It was Slevoic’s turn to be surprised. “I thought you didn’t like lordlings.”

  “Just the stupid ones playing soldiers. Rabbit isn’t stupid—except about clothes.”

  At that opportune moment Captain Suiden came out of his tent.

  “Ah, Lieutenants. I forgot to mention that I expect a logistics report by evening meal.”

  “Yes, sir,” we all said.

  With that, Slevoic saluted and went to his tent. The captain stood with us as we watched him go, then turned and ducked back into his own tent.

  It was another beautiful night on the lea, but I’d have been glad to see new scenery that didn’t have the threat of disappearing hanging over it. The lieutenants and I had done the logistics report (I mostly listened and wrote as Groskin and Slevoic talked about supplies, packhorses, and rotas) and we gave it to Captain Suiden at the designated time. He had invited the officers and Laurel to dine in his tent where this time a folding table and chairs had been set up, and we had trout and vegetables, wonderfully prepared and presented by Basel. I had no problem with the fish and so escaped comment by Javes and Slevoic. They did eye Laurel sideways but he was as dainty eating as he was sipping tea, and he rumbled in pleasure over his portion. It was an innocuous meal with civilized conversation and when we were done I hurried outside, eager to join my mates. Their bursts of laughter had punctuated dinner and I wanted to hear the jokes.