She tossed it up to him, and then turned her bicycle; the rest of her people were straddling their machines in a clump-the nest of Eaters had had half a dozen workable trail bikes.
"Merry meet and merry part," she said, waving to the three Bearkillers; her eyes met Havel 's, and he felt a little of that shock again. "And merry meet again!"
Havel waved, then leaned his hands on the pommel of his saddle as the knot of: Well, "Mackenzies," he thought. Makes as much sense as "Bearkillers," doesn 't it?: coasted off southward, freewheeling down the slope that took the two-lane road weaving among trees and fields.
"Damn. That is quite a woman," he said quietly to himself. "One hell of a woman, in fact."
Eric was looking over the dagger; he drew it and whistled at the damascene blade. "Legolamb will love it," he said. "Looks Elvish to a fault."
"Scottish," Havel corrected.
"Whatever." Then his glance turned sly: "Shall I tell Signe about the circumstances?"
Havel shook himself slightly, touching the rein to his horse's neck and turning the big gelding westward, up the gravel road that intersected the county highway.
"No, I'll tell her."
"Why shouldn't I do it first?" Eric said, grinning.
"You over that constipation, kid?" he said.
"Welclass="underline" yeah," Eric replied, frowning in puzzlement.
Josh Sanders was chuckling on Havel 's other side as the three horses moved off, the pack-string following.
"Then if your bowels are moving regular, you really shouldn't tell Signe a word," Havel went on seriously.
"What's that got to do with it?" Eric said.
"It's real difficult to wipe your ass when you've got two broken arms," Havel said.
Sanders barked laughter; Eric followed after a moment.
"Want me to take point?" he said.
"Let Josh do it first," Havel said.
Sanders nodded and brought his horse up to a canter, pulling ahead of the other two riders and the remount string. The road they followed wound west into the Eola Hills; the slope was gently downward through a peach orchard for a long bowshot, and Havel lost himself in it for a moment as petals drifted downward and settled in pink drifts on the shoulders of his hauberk and Gustav's mane. There had been enough ugly moments since the Change that it was a good idea to make the most of the other kind.
The thought made him smile. Morning's chill and dew brought out the scent; it reminded him of the smell of Juniper's hair for some reason, and the almost translucent paleness of her skin where the sun hadn't reached.
The road broke out of the little manicured trees and crossed a stretch of green grassland that rose and fell like a smooth swell at sea; from here they could just see how it turned a little north of east to head for a notch between two low hills shaggy with forest; there were more clumps of trees across it, and along the line of the roadway. Beyond all rose the steep heights of the Coast Range, lower than the Cascades behind them and forested to their crests.
Beyond that:
The coast, about which nobody seems to know much. Beyond that, ocean and Asia:
Would ships sail there in his lifetime? Perhaps not, but maybe in his son's, or grandson's; windjammers, like the Aland Island square-rigger that had brought his greatgrandfather to America. He shook his head, and Gustav snorted, sensing that his attention was elsewhere.
Back to practicalities.
Salem lay to their rear across the Willamette; Corvallis was two days' walk southward. The closest town was the tiny hamlet of Rickreall, miles off to the left and over ridges. The hills ahead were an island in the flat Willamette, steep on their western faces, open and inviting when you came in from the east.
The only human habitation in sight was a farmhouse and barn off to the right about half a mile away, and it felt abandoned-probably cleaned out by foraging parties from the state capital right after the Change.
"Mike: " Eric began.
Havel turned his head. "Thought you had something to say."
"Are you and Signe: well, together?"
"Yes and no," Havel said. A corner of his mouth turned up. "Or yes, but not really, not quite yet. Want to have another go about the way I look at your sister? Or did you think I was cheating on her?"
"Welclass="underline" "
"You and Luanne have a commitment, right?" Eric nodded. "Well, Signe and I don't, yet."
Eric flushed, and went on: "Just wanted to know. I mean: are you two going to get married, or something?"
"Probably," Havel said. "Very probably; depends on what she decides. But I haven't made any promises, yet."
Although that's probably not the way a woman would look at it, he acknowledged to himself.
Eric nodded; he was a male, after all, and a teenager at that.
"She'd have to be pretty dumb to pass you up, Mike," he said. Then he went on, in a lower tone: "Thing is, if you two get married, that'll sort of make us brothers, won't it? I've never had a brother."
Havel gave one of his rare laughs and leaned over in the saddle to thump his gauntleted hand on the younger man's armored shoulder.
"I could do worse. What's that old saying? 'Bare is back without brother to guard it'? We've watched each other's backs in enough fights by now that we're sort of brothers already. Now let's see this home of yours."
"Yours too, Mike," Eric said.
Hero worship's natural at his age, Havel thought indulgently.
They moved along smoothly, keeping the horses to a fast walk and occasional canter. From what Juniper had told him, this area had been swept clear by those idiots in Salem, and they were well south and west of the refugee hordes along the main roads now. There was still no sense in taking chances-a flood tide that big would throw spray and wrack a long way.
"Might be some people left further up and in," Havel said. "More places to hide."
Ahead the broad meadow narrowed, rising to low, forested heights coastward, shaggy with Douglas fir and oak. Once past the place where the hills almost pinched together the land opened out again in a wedge with its narrow part to the west. The rolling lands were silent, grass waist-high in the pastures, shaggy in the blocks of orchard and vineyard too-the south-facing side of the valley was all in vines-and the neglect was a disquieting contrast with the still-neat fences of white painted board. Willows dropped their tresses into ponds, and ducks swam.
The big house on its hill was yellowish-red brick, mellow with ivy growing up the south-facing wall, bowered in its trees and in gardens that looked lovely even at this distance. Barns and stables stood off at a little distance, and a smaller cottage-style house.
"Don't get your hopes up," Havel warned as he unshipped his binoculars for a brief scan. "I can't see any movement."
"Well, it didn't burn down, either," Eric said, smiling. "That's something."
They rode up the graveled road, hooves crunching in the loose rock; that turned to white crushed shell as they entered the gardens and lawns proper, in a long looping curve leading up to the white-pillared entrance to the main house. Velvety grass dreamed amid banks of early flowers- the Willamette was prime gardening country-clipped hedges, huge copper beeches, oaks, walnuts, espaliered fruit trees blossoming against a brick ha-ha.
Old money indeed, Havel thought.
He scanned the windows carefully; some of the dormers that broke the hipped roofline were open, and he saw a gauzy curtain flutter free.
Just the thing to hide someone looking down at us, he thought.
Aloud: "Eric." The younger'man looked at him. "This place has good memories for you. You're probably feeling happy and relaxed to be here, down deep. Bad idea. Keep alert."
Josh Sanders was looking around, fingering his bowstring.
"Someone's been doing maintenance here since the Change," he said. "The grass isn't as long as it would be otherwise, and there's been some weeding. And that's horse dung, there, and hoofprints. Not more than a day old."