And that tentlessness included Kero. It was good for morale—and it made her less of a target. She did have one of the better bushes, a clump of them, actually, with thick, drooping branches, but room on the inside for three or four; and she had it alone—but there were a few advantages to being Captain.
The Herald vanished after they’d tucked themselves up, established perimeters and set watches, and sent the specialists off to make Ancar’s life interesting. She settled down on her bedroll with a piece of jerky in one hand and a tiny, shielded dark-lantern focused on the detailed map spread over her knees. At some point during her study her orderly brought her a battered tin cup full of water, and said—rather too calmly—that the Herald who’d been with her this morning was being replaced.
She looked up, sharply, and saw the corners of his mouth twitching. “Ah,” she said, and left it at that.
Made himself unwelcome, did he? Maybe I did a little judging, but it sounds like he did a lot more.
She fell asleep with a clear conscience, and a resolve not to let the replacement get on her officers’ nerves as the first Herald had.
In the morning, as soon as she’d gotten the reports from her scouts, she gathered her officers together inside the heart of the grove, to lay out her next plan of action. While she gave each Lieutenant his orders, she caught sight of something white moving up, just out of the corner of her eye.
So our first liaison couldn’t handle the job. A little late, my friend, she thought to herself, and I hope you’re a bit more flexible than your predecessor. But she otherwise ignored him until she’d finished briefing her officers. Only then did she turn to see who—or what—Selenay had sent to her this time.
And felt as if someone had just poleaxed her.
“Oh,” she said, faintly.
“I’m—uh—the replacement,” Eldan said with hesitation, playing with the ends of his Companion’s reins. “Selenay thought you’d be less likely to frighten us off. At least, on purpose.”
“I wouldn’t count on that if I were her,” Kero replied, around a funny feeling in her chest, still staring at him. He looked wonderful; he hadn’t aged to speak of, her dream Eldan become substantial. “You’ve never ridden with my troops. We’re a nasty lot, and what we meet up with tends to be just as vicious as we are.”
“That wasn’t what she meant.” Eldan dropped his eyes before she did, which gave her a chance to give him a quick once-over before he looked up again. He hadn’t changed much, either; maybe the white streaks in his hair were a little wider, and there were a couple of smile-lines around his mouth and eyes, but otherwise he was the same. She wondered how she looked to him. “It doesn’t have to be me. If you don’t want—I mean—”
“I don’t,” she interrupted him fiercely, fairly sure what he was going to say, and not wanting to hear it. “I can’t afford a liability, not here, not now. I can’t permit you to distract me from my people. If you can do your job and leave it at that, fine. Otherwise, find me someone else. And make sure it’s someone with guts and a sense of humor this time. We’re perilous short of both.”
“I’d noticed,” Eldan muttered with a flash of resentment and irritation, not quite under his breath.
“You—you what?” She stared at him for a moment, torn between wanting to laugh, and wanting to rip his face off for that.
Laughter won.
She leaned up against Hellsbane’s saddle, then shook with silent laughter, until her knees were weak and tears ran down her face. Eldan just stood there, looking a little puzzled, but otherwise keeping his mouth shut.
“Oh, gods,” she said, or rather, gasped. “Oh, dear gods. I had that coming.” She pushed away from the mare, and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
“You certainly did,” Eldan said agreeably. Then he widened his eyes, and his tone grew wheedling. “Come on, Kero, you need me along just to keep you humble.”
“I do not,” she retorted, stung. “And I don’t need you pulling any ‘mama, may I’ acts on me. But as long as you’re here, you might as well tag along anyway.” She was tempted to jump into the saddle without using the stirrups—
But that’s a youngster’s show-off trick. Besides, it wouldn’t impress him.
:I wouldn’t leap into the saddle like a young hero if I were you,: said the familiar voice in her head. :l’d have to match you, and I’m too old and tired for that.:
:Sure you are.: She’d answered him the same way without realizing it until she’d done so. For the first time in her life, Mindspeech felt as natural as audible speech. Even with Warrl it had been an effort, and seemed wrong, like trying to walk on her hands and eat with her feet.
She should have been alarmed by that; she should have been unhappy to be reminded that she had the Gift. The youngster training with Tarma would have been ready to gut him. The Kero of ten years ago would have ordered him out of her Company. But now—all that fuss seemed pretty stupid, and awfully paranoid. It was an ability, like her perfect pitch—and a lot more useful. Now talking by Mindspeech felt as if she’d been doing it for years, :besides, it’s about time you found out what military discipline is like. It’ll do you good. And while we’re in the field, it’s Captain. Not Kero, not Captain Kero. Captain. Got that?:
He nodded, swinging up into his Companion’s saddle. :Sorry, Captain. And I think I understand. This is a military command, and you need a different kind of attitude from everybody connected with your troops, right? Otherwise discipline breaks down. Heralds do things differently; we encourage familiarity, but we almost never get it.:
:Heralds don’t have to command a few hundred hot-blooded, hard-headed fighters, each of whom is at some time or other convinced he could Captain the Company better than you.: She sent Hellsbane out through the bushes to the field on the other side where the Skybolts were mustering. Eldan kept right at her side, as if they’d been doing this together for years.
:You haven’t had that particular problem for the past six fighting seasons,: he retorted, :Your people follow you the way no other Captain could command. Right now your only problem is that they are so confident in you that you’re afraid they won’t come to you when they think there’s something wrong with your strategy. So don’t start feeling sorry for yourself.:
Since that was exactly what she’d been confiding in the dream-Eldan in the last dream she’d had about him, she was understandably startled.
She reined Hellsbane in so fast that the horse reared a little, snorting, as she whipped around in the saddle to face him. “How did you know that?” she blurted, flushing and chilling in turn. “I haven’t said anything to anyone about that—”
:Except in dreams.: He had gone a little pale, himself. :They weren’t dreams, were they?:
Hellsbane reacted to her unconscious signals, and backed up, one slow step at a time. “I thought they were,” she said, and her voice shook. “I thought you were. I thought I was going crazy. I thought it didn’t matter. If I hadn’t, I’d never have said—done—half of what I did—”