The youngest of the Readstown men was about sixteen, with hands and feet a little too big for his gangling height. He looked enough like Ingolf to be his son, save for a mop of yellow hair still streaked with summer?s faded tow white. ?Uncle Ingolf!? he called, grinning as if to split his freckled face.?Remember how you put me on my first pony??
Ingolf blinked.?Mark?? he blurted.?Little Markie? Jesus Christ, but you?ve grown!?
Rudi kept his smile to himself. An exile tended to think that nothing changed in his absence, that home remained like a picture hung on the wall of memory with everything frozen as it was. To think that way below the surface, at least; it would be well to remember that his own homeland was living its own life without him to watch. The thought made his smile die and the longing to ride up the road and see the gates of Dun Juniper even stronger. ?Quiet, son,? the leader of the Readstown men said to the youth. ?Save it for later. This is man talk.?
His voice was gravel-deep and full of the unconscious authority you?d expect in one who wasn?t often contradicted in this remote place.
Then, a little awkwardly, leaning forward with his hands on the pommel of his saddle: ?Hello, Ingolf. Good to see you again.? ?You too, Ed,? Ingolf replied.
There was a moment?s silence, and then he added:?How?s by you? Looks like the harvest was good.? ?Tolerable, around here. Bit of wilt in da alfalfa, lost some sheep to the wolves und a horse with a catamount, but a good year otherwise, so far, touch wood.?
Edward Vogeler, Rudi thought, as the man put a finger to the wood battens on the hilt of his shete.
He?d have guessed so even if they?d met on a city street. The older man might have been his comrade?s image, if you added on fifteen years, gray streaks in the beard and forty pounds; he still looked bear-strong despite the beginnings of a pot that strained against the silver buttons of his bloodred mackinaw jacket and the way his hair had receded from a high forehead lined with worry marks. The only obvious difference was a straighter nose lacking the scar and kink Ingolf?s had, and eyes that were nearer leaf green than dark blue. ?Ah…? Ingolf hesitated again; he was a proud man.?Sorry I was such a cast-iron prick when I left, Ed.?
He seemed surprised when his brother shrugged slightly and replied: ?When you stomped out, you mean? Runs in the family. All us Vogelers are a bunch of damn stubborn squareheads, yah??
His voice had the same flat-voweled rasp that Ingolf?s did, but stronger, not worn down by exposure to other lands. And with a little more of the singsong undertone, plus a tendency to use d instead of th at the beginning of words. He swung down from his horse with a grunt and all his party followed; one of the younger men stepped forward to hold the leader?s reins. ?You?d be Rudi Mackenzie?? Ingolf?s elder brother said, absently fingering a five-pointed star pinned to his coat.?I?m Edward Vogeler, Sheriff of Readstown and head of the local National Guard.?
The Sheriff offered his hand and gave one brief flick of the eyes at the other?s strange clothing. The second glance was one Rudi recognized as well, taking in his height and length of limb and breadth of shoulder, the muscle and thickness of wrist on his arm where the jacket and linsey-woolsey shirt fell back, the scars on hands and face and the use-worn binding on the hilt of his sword, and the fact that it hung from his right hip. A third glance went to Epona where she stood hipshot with her head over Rudi?s right shoulder, nipping at his hair now and then; it had a skilled stockbreeder?s grave respect for her lines. ?Rudi Mackenzie of the Clan Mackenzie indeed, Sheriff Vogeler,? Rudi said, and inclined his head politely.
He took the strong hard hand, squeezing just enough for mutual respect without foolish games. The calluses reminded him of something Ingolf had said, that Sheriffs hereabouts weren?t too proud to put their hand to a plow now and then. ?My sept totem is Raven,? Rudi went on.?Tanist by acclamation of the Clan I am, leader of this troop of traveling mountebanks by the inscrutable whim of the Powers, and glad to meet the kinsman of Ingolf. He?s been a tried friend and right-hand man to me through battle, storm and wilderness, with a quick sword and wise counsel, from the western mountains to your steading. And soon he?ll be my brother-in-law.?
The Sheriff of Readstown checked again, his eyes going wide for an instant at his brother?s grin and nod and Mary?s little wave, then handed Rudi back the letters of introduction he?d sent ahead with his half sisters. They now included one from the new Regency Council of Iowa, urgently requesting all possible help for our good friend and ally Rudi Mackenzie.
The Free Republic of Richland was free, if he understood the local politics, but they wouldn?t want to antagonize mighty Iowa. Richland?s independence suited Des Moines because they would rather not annex its problems; its borders with dangerous bandit-haunted wilderness, and what Iowa?s ruling powers thought of as the bad example of its looser system of ranks. There was one from the Cardinal-Archbishop too; Ingolf had told him his elder brother was Catholic, and notably pious, and the Sheriff bowed his head as Father Ignatius signed the air in blessing.
So that message from the bishop is just as well. Richland as a whole doesn?t care to anger Iowa, but the Bossman of Richland hasn?t the power over his nobles… his Sheriffs and their Farmers… that the Heasleroads have. Or had. And so the Sheriff of Readstown won?t necessarily do his Bossman?s will. Family feuds can be the worst of all. Nor can I absolutely rely on Ingolf?s judgment this time-his brother?s feelings might well have festered like an ulcer since he left. ?Well, youse welcome here,? the Richlander squire said, hooking his thumbs in his sword belt.?Stay a day, stay a month, stay as long as you damn well please,? he went on, in a phrase that was common throughout these lands.
His brows went up as he looked along the length of the wagon train and took in the Southsiders. ?All of you. I?ll have to put your men up in the barn lofts, mostly…?
Then he saw the Southsider women and children.?Uff da! Your men and, uh, the rest,? he added.?I?ll spread?em around a little to my out-farms, if you?re here for more than a day or two.? ?That?s most kind of you, sir,? Rudi said.
And I hope none of the ones playing host to my Southsiders are of an excessive delicacy in matters of feeding and washing.
Aloud:?We can pay our way, Sheriff. Sure and we?ll also be glad to help with anything that needs doing in the way of work. Or fighting, of course.?
Suddenly Edward Vogeler smiled; it looked genuine, if also something he didn?t do very often. ?Hell, Mr. Mackenzie, my brother and I parted on bad terms-he?s probably told you about it, since he?s engaged to your sister.? ?Half sister,? Mary noted pedantically, sotto voce. ?Ah, and to be sure, that was long ago,? Rudi replied diplomatically.?And myself a stranger here.?
With better sense than to intrude on a quarrel between close kin, he did not need to add. ?We were both assholes about it, you betcha,? Edward Vogeler said bluntly.?But I had less excuse, not being nineteen. A man?s supposed to think with his dick and his fists at that age. I was already past thirty with a wife and kids.? ?Yah, yah, something to that,? Ingolf said, after an instant?s pause.?Both ways.? ?So youse?re all my guests while you?re here,? the Sheriff went on.?You?re my brother?s friends… and from what you say, my in-laws, soon enough.? ?I?ll accept the hospitality with gratitude,? Rudi said.?Though I will pay for what we need beyond a normal brief guesting, and what we need to take with us, and for gear and beasts.? ?I won?t say no to that,? Edward Vogeler said, with a firm nod. ?Yah hey, got my Farmers und Refugees to think of. We?ll dicker on that stuff. We can always buy more supplies in from upstream and down, mostly we swap around here so cash money?s always welcome. Gold, that is.?