But Imperial society has no use for me or any of us, women and men alike. Haven does. This mission is important to Haven, and I’m important to the mission, and that ought to be enough. It’s more than I ever dreamed of. Except that now my part of the job is done …
MacKinnie found a goblet of wine and gave it to her. It was strong, heady stuff, and she knew she shouldn’t drink all of it, but the festive mood of the streets was hard to resist, and she drank more than half. Nathan took a beaker of ale from one of his off-duty troopers. “Thanks, Hiaro,” he said. “What’ll you do now that the war’s over?”
“I don’t know, Colonel.” The little pikeman stood tall, and Stark’s merciless drillfield exercises showed in his muscles. Mary remembered when she’d first seen him: when Hiaro had joined MacKinnie’s army he was an emaciated ghost living on Temple charity, sleeping in a gutter and waiting to die. “My farm is burned, my wife and children are dead … the lord of my fields wants us to return to the land, and it seems I must do so for I am not tall enough to join the new Temple guards.”
MacKinnie drank and turned away but the fugleman pursued him. “Colonel — Trader — sir, it is rumored that you will march west with an army. There are many like me who would go with you. Some talk of remaining together and seeking employment as soldiers for another city, but we would rather go with you.”
“Thanks, Hiaro. I’ll remember,” MacKinnie said.
What is there about him that wins loyalty? Mary wondered. Not just Hiaro. Hal Stark. The other guardsmen. It’s like a tangible force. I can feel it, too, but I suppose that could be something else, something more physical. Heaven knows he’s attractive enough. And sometimes he looks at me — She drank the rest of the goblet. Someone stepped out of the crowd to fill it again.
They wandered through the brightly lit streets. Wind chimes with a Temple replica as centerpiece tinkled in every doorway. They rounded a corner, and she slipped on the rough cobblestones. MacKinnie caught her, and she leaned against him for a moment. She felt his warmth, and she didn’t want to move away. Gently he set her back on her feet, but she thought he took his time doing it, as if the physical contact wasn’t unpleasant for him.
“The pikemen could do all right as mercenaries,” Stark commented. “They can beat anything on this planet exceptin’ heavy cavalry, and with the right battle plan they might even do that. No leaders, though, so they’ll probably hire out to some idiot who’ll waste them. Nobody on this end of Makassar appreciates good infantry. Be a pity what’s goin’ to happen to them lads after all the training we gave them …”
“I got your message before, Sergeant,” MacKinnie said. His voice was cold.
“Yes, sir.”
“What message?” Mary asked.
“Hal thinks I ought to stay here as king of this city rather than return to Jikar.”
“But you can’t do that! Haven is depending on you, all of Prince Samual’s World — Nathan, you wouldn’t really do that!”
But we could, she thought. We could stay. She thought of Hiaro as she’d first seen him. And the children of Batav. The Empire wouldn’t help them. Someone should. But not us! We’ve our own world to save, and even if I don’t like Haven as much as I once did, it’s my home, and this is my duty.
“Wouldn’t I? Who’s to stop me?” he asked.
She drew away from him, then began to laugh. “Why, you are, Iron Man! I suppose you really could get away with it. The Imperial Navy wouldn’t like that, but with their Archbishop on your side you’d be all right.” She spoke tauntingly now. “Go on, Your Majesty. Forget your oaths. Why don’t you take me into the nearest building and ravish me while you’re at it? Who’s to stop you? I have no protector here. No one but you.”
MacKinnie turned away.
They were approaching a large group, peasants, soldiers off duty, knights in mail, all gathered around a cart in the center of a public square. One mailed warrior in bright surcoat stood atop the cart, his head tilted back in song.
“Look, there’s Brett,” Nathan said. “Let’s go listen.”
Two pikemen saw MacKinnie approach and efficiently cleared a way through the crowd to the wagon.
“In the public house to die, is my resolution,
Let wine to my lips be nigh, at life’s dissolution!
That will make the angels cry, with glad elocution,
’Grant this drunkard, God on high, grace and absolution!’ ”
Brett ended his song and seized a flagon of wine. As he drained it he saw MacKinnie. “Ho lads, it’s the colonel and his lady, our Lady Mary who brings food and drink and takes care of the wounded. A song for the real winner of our battles!”
“Oh mistress mine, where are you—”
He had hardly begun when he broke off and straightened in horror. “Hal! Behind you! Guard the colonel!” Brett tore his sword from its sheath and leaped from the cart.
It all happened so fast that Mary had no time to react. A short, brown man rushed through the crowd. He brandished a heavy curved knife. A bedlam of shouting erupted, but the intruder ran in deadly silence. When a pikeman moved to intercept him the kriss flashed, lopping off the soldier’s arm at the elbow. There were more shouts, of warning and terror. The kriss swung again and again, and more of MacKinnie’s warriors fell to the wine-soaked cobblestones.
“Haigh!” A soldier flung his javelin from somewhere behind her. The meter-and-a-half dart took the charging warrior below the chest, but the man plucked the javelin from his body and charged on, still dealing terrible blows to everyone in his path. Then there was no one but Stark between him and the colonel.
Hal had no time to draw his sword. Instead, he moved in front of Mary and MacKinnie. The kriss flashed again. It caught Stark on the right shoulder and battered him to the ground, but he’d bought MacKinnie time enough to draw his own weapon.
And the brown man was still coming forward, directly toward her, toward Nathan, the great curved knife held high. Nathan took his stance, his face determined but calm, no fear at all as he held the point of his sword leveled at the enemy—
And the man, impaled on the sword, still ran forward down the blade toward MacKinnie. The kriss lifted high and Mary saw death descending.
“Haigh!” Brett shouted a curse similar to the assassin’s. His broadsword flashed, catching the descending wrist to cut it off. Brett lifted his weapon again and cut viciously at the head, then again. The stocky warrior slumped, his weight tearing MacKinnie’s sword from his hand.
“Haigh!” Brett shouted again. “In time! Hal, do you live?”
“Yeah.” Stark eased himself gingerly to his feet and clutched his right shoulder with his left hand. “Man, he swings that thing hard! Caught me more with the flat than the edge, damn good thing I didn’t take off my mail after duty today … “he tested his arm. “Gonna be stiff for a week.”
“Better that than lose the arm,” Brett said quietly.
The crowd was milling about the square, and men and women were shouting, “The colonel lives!” Brett leaped to his wagon and shouted it again. “He lives. The colonel lives!”
“Glory be to God!” Someone screamed. A Temple priest began to pray loudly.
It was only then that the reaction took her. She was still shaking when MacKinnie climbed onto the wagon to show himself unhurt. He was just in time. Already pikemen were advancing with leveled weapons, ready to avenge their commander’s death with a massacre …
Nathan climbed down from the cart. A near thing, he thought. As near as ever I came to buying it.
Now that it was over he’d get the shakes. It almost always happened. When there was work to do, danger only made him calmer, but when it was over … He found Mary in the crowd. She seemed calm enough, but subdued, and he took her hand.