I shot straight up.
“What the poxy hell are you doing here?”
“Ryson’s tentmate brought back an extra tent.” Laurel chuffed. “Apparently he couldn’t take any more of Ryson’s aromas. Trooper Jeffen is bunking there.”
I lay back down feeling abandoned and forsaken.
“Also, the good captain wanted me with you just in case someone decides to go roaming in the night watches.” I was startled out of my self-pity at the thought that my mates needed to be guarded against. Then I remembered they weren’t my mates any longer, but were on the other side of the great divide that separated regular troopers from officers. Plus, there was Slevoic with Ryson and whatever other stoolies that were hanging about. I lay back down and stared towards the ceiling for a long time.
Chapter Nine
The next morning dawned bright and clear. Captain Javes’ troop carried pennants and standards that looked grand snapping in the breeze against the blue sky and scudding clouds. (We didn’t bring ours as we felt no need to impress mountain goats.) Javes also looked grand in a crisp field uniform, boots (Colbies, suitable for country wear), an embroidered cloak and, to my surprise, a serviceable sword that replaced his filigree one. It was all topped with a cap with troop insignia and feather, set at a jaunty angle atop his pomaded blond curls.
However, the weather showed the fickleness of spring in the mountains. One moment the clouds were fleecy white, the next the entire sky a solid dark gray. It drizzled at first, but soon the rain was coming down in sheets, plastering Javes’ cap to his scalp, the feather dribbling into his face. The next days saw us sleeping in dripping tents on soaked ground wrapped in sodden bedding as the rain showed no sign of letting up.
It wasn’t the first time my troop had to ride in bad weather. We were at the bottom of the garrison’s pecking order and harsh conditions during patrol were normal for us. Javes’ unit, however, were King’s Road patrollers, a cushy assignment handed out to pets, suck-ups and the well connected. It was no surprise when they began complaining, but I was startled to hear grumbles from my own troop—and several times when they saw me come near, my old mates would fall silent.
I tried once to find out from Jeff what was going on.
“Tell me, Rabbit, why are we here?” Jeff asked.
“We’re escorting Laurel Faena.”
“It’s a little convenient that we get lost and this cat turns up just in time to show us the way home. And then there’s your covenants, feathers and all. What have you gotten us into?”
“Me? I haven’t done anything. Besides, we’re taking an ambassador to Court, Jeff. Not going on a suicide mission.”
“An ambassador who’s been stirring the pot, getting the stew seasoned just the way he wants it.”
“You don’t want to go to the Royal City?”
“Not like this. Not will ye, nill ye.”
I blinked, thinking that was the whole point of being a solider. “Uh, Jeff—”
“You know what I mean. Manipulated.”
“Laurel said he had nothing to do with us getting lost.”
“Of course he would. But it was magic, Rabbit.”
“Yes, but Faena don’t lie.”
Jeff stared at me for a moment, then started to turn away. I grabbed his arm.
“Damn it, Jeff—!”
He stiffened and, turning back, snapped off a salute. “Yes, sir!” This time I stared, wanting to point out that I too was wet, cold and miserable. That Captain Suiden would no more allow me or Laurel to run his troop than he’d allow Javes. Or Slevoic. That I didn’t want to be a lieutenant, definitely didn’t want to be an aristo, and I wasn’t any happier with the Border catching up with me than the troop was. But Jeff’s eyes were remote and I felt a grayness wash over me. I let go of his arm.
“Forget it,” I said, walking away.
Later that evening I overheard someone whisper how I’d ordered Jeff to stand guard over a rock in the rain for hours until Slevoic finally had pity and dismissed him.
Chapter Ten
It took us four days to reach the King’s Road instead of the normal two. By the time we reached the flatlands, the rain had stopped and the afternoon sun was breaking through the clouds—a welcomed sight. Still we were a bedraggled bunch, and all smelled like Ryson. When we reached the Road, Captain Suiden had us halt and he looked us over.
“There is no way we’re going into Gresh like this.” He turned his horse in the opposite direction from the city. “We will dry out at the way station that’s a few miles down the Road.” We reached the station as the stars started coming out. Laurel Faena, who loped beside me the entire trip, followed me into the stables and then into the station proper, his eyes bright as he stared about. Someone had started a fire in the hearth, and the warmth was welcomed, even though the odors became more potent as the steam rose off of us.
We set up laundry and Basel took over the cooking detail, and those not on one did the other. Rabbits had been caught again and Basel made stew out them. The smell drove me to the rear of the station where I rolled up my sleeves and joined those who were scrubbing on washboards. Elbow deep in suds, I’d glanced up from time to time to check on Laurel. He sat on a bench with a sewing kit in front of him, mending his coat. As he finished a thread, he would extend a claw and cut it. No one crowded him.
When the stew was ready, Basel requested four burly troopers to dish out the first hot meal we had in days to prevent a stampede. I got bread out of my bags (I was able to pinch the mold off), cheese (the same) and a couple of withered apples. I then went back to where the laundry had been set up, the soap overriding some of the smell of cooked meat, and Groskin found me there.
“Basel baked some potatoes for you,” he said, handing me a couple on a plate.
“Thank you.” I put my cheese on the hot potatoes and watched in satisfaction as it melted. Groskin sat down next to me and we ate in happy silence. After a moment Laurel joined us, the two captains came and sat down opposite us and last, Slevoic wandered by and hesitated, then sat down on the other side of Groskin and tucked in.
Captain Javes finished his stew, wiped his mouth with a kerchief (it had lace edges) and looked at me. “I say, Rabbit, why are you back here away from the fire?”
“Lieutenant Rabbit doesn’t eat meat, except for fish.” Captain Suiden answered for me, his voice carrying to the front of the room and all four corners. “I suspect he was trying to get away from the smell of the stew, not hiding from anybody.” He scraped the bottom of his bowl with his spoon. “Though what’s this I hear about you ordering someone to guard a rock, Lieutenant?”
I was sure that Captain Suiden knew everything about it moments after it happened, but I answered anyway. “Trooper Jeffen was being a twit so I told him to stand there until he got over it, sir.” Up until now there was the rattle of spoons against bowls, but it stopped as Jeff jumped up, knocking his empty bowl on the floor. “Uh—” I grinned as it sank in he couldn’t call a superior officer a liar. At least not in front of other superior officers.
“Yes, Trooper Jeffen?” Captain Suiden asked.
“It wasn’t quite like that, sir—” So maybe he could call me one, in a roundabout way.
“It wasn’t quite like what?”
“I wasn’t being a twit, sir.”
“Oh? So Lieutenant Rabbit made you guard a rock in pouring rain for no reason at all?”
“No, sir.”
“No, what?”
“I didn’t guard a rock, sir. He didn’t have me guard anything. And I’m not a twit.”
“Well, Lieutenant, Trooper Jeffen says you didn’t have him guard a rock. And he’s not a twit,” Captain Suiden said to me, his face straight. He turned and signaled one of the duty cooks who brought him another bowl of stew.