And as for the CORA men:
Well, I've never really seen a gypsy camp, Havel thought. But I think that's how they were supposed to do it, pretty much.
Every rancher-member of the Association had arrived as he-or in a couple of instances, she-pleased, and with what followers they could muster; and that ranged from four mounted men with their bedrolls to thirty or forty with a chuck wagon and a big pavilion tent for the boss-man and his family. They'd come with what they pleased too, which often meant as much of the comforts of home as they could carry. They'd also scattered themselves across a huge sweep of hill and down the tree-clad banks of Hackleman Creek towards the blue of Fish Lake, just visible now. Herds of horses and cattle moved in that direction as well.
The smoke of their campfires wafted towards the riders, along with the sounds-a farrier's hammer shaping a horseshoe, the shouts of playing children:
Havel's eyes met Aylward's. They'd only met the day before, but they'd already discovered a great deal in common.
Shambolic, Aylward's lips shaped soundlessly.
What a cluster-fuck, Havel's eyes replied.
Brown seemed to catch some of the byplay. "Well, you've got some womenfolk with you too," he said defensively.
"The only ones in our camp are in our support echelon, medicos and such, and some who're wearing a hauberk," Havel said bluntly. "And those all passed the same tests as everyone else on our A-list. The noncombatants and kids are all back where we've got our base set up."
Brown flushed a little. "We're providing most of the men for this fight," he said. "And the supplies. We've got plenty of veterans, too."
But no single one with enough authority to get you all organized, Havel thought. He didn't say it aloud, or let it show on his face; they weren't here to quarrel with the locals. Instead he went on: "Granted. And you've provided first-rate intelligence-"
Or at least Ellie Strong has.
"-that drawing of the gate and drawbridge is going to be extremely useful, I think. See you at the noon conference."
One corner of Havel's mouth drew up as the mollified rancher smiled and turned aside with his men. Aylward laid his rein on his mount's neck and came closer.
"Not telling him exactly what you have planned for that information, are you, Lord Bear? Perhaps a little worried intel might be flowing into the castle as well as out?"
"Does the Pope shit in the woods?" Havel said. He hesitated: "How's your boss, by the way?"
"Lady Juniper?" Aylward said. "Coming along fine, if you mean her condition."
"More a matter of 'What's she like.' We only met for three days and a bit; I was impressed on brief acquaintance, but you've been at Dun Juniper for most of the time since the Change."
Aylward nodded. "She's strange. And lucky, and it rubs off."
"Rubs off?"
"Well, take me-when she found me, I was trapped in a gully, dying of thirst four feet from water, and like to be eaten alive by coyotes. And that's gospel."
"That would have been a waste," Havel said.
He looked at the square tough weathered face; it would indeed, to lose this man of formidable strengths and so many skills.
"Lucky for her you were there," he said. "But even luckier for you."
"That's exactly what I mean, mate," Aylward said. "But it was lucky for me because I was in the ruddy ravine in the first place. Think about it for a bit. Here's me, traveling about doing as I please, South America, Africa, Canada, and I get an impulse to go fossick about the Cascades in bleedin' March -might as well be Wales, that time of year. Then I take the Change for a nuclear war-well, that's not so hard to believe-so I stay up in the mountains afterward. Then that fuckin' ravine crumbles in just the right spot, I put me shoulder out an' get me legs caught in a scissors by two saplings, and she 'appens by, before I'm too far gone."
He touched the horns-and-moon symbol on his jack. "It's enough to get you thinkin' serious about this Goddess of hers, innit? Not that I'm not grateful to her and hers, mind." A shake of the head. "She's got the flux. Daft things happen around her."
"Flux?" Havel asked.
"Chap I knew used the word-when I met him I was in the SAS and he was runnin' a pub called The Treadmill. Did everything in his day, Foreign Legion an' all, right tough old bastard. He thought some people had it, sort of like a magnetic field that pulled in odd happenings. Willie was always on about some bint he'd known in the old days, and if half what he said was true: anyway, Lady Juniper has it in great job lots."
"When I think of the times I almost died before the Change and after: maybe I do too."
"Nar, I figure you were just born to hang, mate."
They both laughed; after a moment the clansman went on: "But she's not just lucky. She's fly." At Havel's raised eyebrow he went on: "Clever at outguessing you. Dead fly."
Chapter Thirty
"A re you sure you're up to this?" Judy asked, turning and needlessly arranging some instruments in one of the clinic's cupboards.
"No," Juniper said frankly to her tense back. "But I think I've got a better chance of bringing it off than anyone else. What's your medical advice?"
Her friend swallowed. "Well, you're a day or two short of eight months," she said. "But it's been as smooth a pregnancy as I've seen, right out of a textbook. As long as you don't try leaping about or riding a horse-"
"Come on, Judy, we've known each other since we were teenagers."
"That's why I specified," she said dourly. "It's a wonder you're not east over the mountains with Sam and the others, waving your sword and waddling into battle like a pregnant duck."
"Is maith an sc?? s? harad!" Juniper replied ruefully. "A friend's eye is a good mirror!"
"Then delegate," Judy said.
"I can't. There are others to fight for us, but this I honestly think I'm best for-and I don't need to be all that mobile, just able to talk."
Judy shook her head and bit her lip; Juniper gave her an impulsive hug and left the little clinic. The corridor of the Hall's second story was dark, lit only by the windows at either end that gave out on a cloudy, foggy morning; the staircase was in the center of the hallway, and it was steep.
And I am waddling, she thought. You two should not make me come up and get you.
She sighed and waddled up the steps; it didn't occur to her to call instead until she was nearly at the top-you lost the habit, when your daughter was deaf.
"You two were supposed to be packed by now and- what are you doing?"
She choked the words off. Eilir and Astrid were kneeling on the floor facing each other, across three taper candles with a chalice and two cups, and a pinch of incense burning in that, and ritual tools scattered about. Eilir's Book of Shadows was open on a folding rest nearby, and they had the backs of their right wrists pressed together as they chanted.
You didn't interrupt a ritual.
": all my wisdom and all my secrets I share with you for as long as this life endures. Until we meet in Tir na m Ban," they finished. "So mote it be!"
Juniper frowned as they put down their wrists, and a bright bead of blood showed on each-the loft office-bedroom got a lot more light, which was one reason she'd snaffled it off for her own.
"Now, what on earth are you two doing?"
"Swearing blood-br-well, blood-sisterhood!" Astrid said brightly. "Like, we're going to be friends and comrades forever! And be Paladins who fight evil and right wrongs and, oh, all that sort of stuff."
Eilir wiped off the bead of blood with a piece of cotton swab and handed Astrid another.
Like she said, Mom, she signed. You know, like Roland and Oliver. Anamchara.
"Or Gimli and Legolas," Astrid said helpfully. "Only we're both: well, Eilir's not a dwarf."
Tolkein and the others have a great deal to answer for, Juniper thought. Do they think those white horses are magical totems, somehow? As I recall, at their age my best friend and I were mostly concerned with music and TV shows and talking about boys. Of course, things have Changed: