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.
Chapter Eight
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.
“Hold up, Rabbit,” Groskin said, grabbing my elbow.
Lieutenant Slevoic pushed past us and headed for his tent. I caught the glow as he lit a cheroot and the acrid smell of burning tobacco drifted back to us.
“You’re an officer now,” Groskin said. “You can’t hang out with the lads.” I stared at him. He was right, officers did not mingle with regular troopers. I tried anyway. “I can’t snub my mates,” I said. “As soon as this is over, I’ll go back to being just a trooper.”
“Do you think that you’ll be allowed to?”
Another burst of laughter came from the fire. One trooper produced a squeezebox and another a tin whistle, and they played as everyone sang a ribald song about an admiral’s daughter (rotten to the corps, but oh so nice to the navy). I tried again.
“But the captain said I was supposed to be treated like I always have.”
“No.” Groskin’s voice was gentle. “He said that you were to have the same duties and responsibilities, Lieutenant. Until he says different. And he will. In fact, he’s already started.” For the second time in as many days I felt punched in the gut. The third verse started and I could hear Jeff’s warbling tenor soar, then crack. Groskin gave my elbow a sympathetic shake, then dropped it and headed for his tent.
With convenient timing, Captain Javes emerged from Suiden’s tent.
“Oh, hallo, Rabbit.” He paused to tug on his gloves. “Escort me to my tent?”
No, I thought. Go away.
“Yes, sir,” I said, and fell into step with him.
“Some big changes happening, what? With promotions and magicals and missions and all.” Javes stopped at his open tent, a lantern casting a square patch of light over us. “I’d invite you in for a drink, but you look fair knackered.” He paused, but I said nothing. He then pasted his bugger me grin on his face and said, “Good night, then, Lieutenant.” It took all that I had not to stomp back to my tent. I flopped down on my bed after flinging my uniform anyhow at my saddlebags. I still lay there brooding when my tent-mate came in. He settled into his bedroll and there was quiet.
“Good night, Lord Rabbit,” Laurel said.