“That’s so.” But then Pekka remembered how she’d thought the whole world was falling apart when the Algarvians made their sorcerous attack on Yliharma. “But we have scruples Mezentio’s thrown over the side, too.” And she clung to Leino, afraid of what would happen if he went to war against a kingdom whose mages didn’t blink at slaughtering hundreds, thousands-for all she knew, tens of thousands-to get what they wanted.
“It’ll be all right,” Leino said, though he had no more certain way of knowing that than Pekka did.
She was about to tell him as much when the ley-line caravan came gliding up. Only a couple of people got off, one of them a grizzled night watchman who’d been patrolling the City College campus longer than Pekka had been alive. But even the Kuusamans, most of the time an orderly folk, jostled and elbowed one another as they swarmed onto the cars.
Pekka found herself with a seat. Leino stood by her, hanging on to the overhead railing. The caravan slid away toward the center of town and then toward the residential districts farther east. The fellow sitting beside Pekka got up and got off. She moved over by the window. Leino sat down beside her till the caravan got to the stop closest to their home.
They held hands all the way up the little hill that led up to their house, and to Elimaki and Olavin’s beside it. Pekka smiled at Uto’s excited squeal when Leino knocked on the front door. Elimaki was smiling when she opened the door, too-smiling in relief, unless Pekka missed her guess. Since Uto often made her feel that way, she could hardly blame her sister for being glad to hand back her son.
Uto came hurtling out. Leino grabbed him and tossed him in the air. “What did you do today?” his father asked.
“Nothing,” Uto replied, which, if it meant anything, meant nothing Aunt Elimaki caught me at, anyhow.
“You look tired,” Elimaki told Pekka.
“No, that’s not it.” Pekka shook her head. “But Leino”-she touched her husband on the arm-”has been called into the service of the Seven Princes.”
“Oh!” Elimaki’s hand leaped up to her mouth. She knew what that meant, or might mean. Aye, Olavin had gone into the service, too, but he probably wouldn’t get anywhere near real fighting, not when he was as skilled at casting accounts as he was. The same didn’t hold for Leino. Pekka’s sister stepped forward and hugged him. “Powers above keep you safe.”
“From your mouth to their ears,” Leino said. Like everyone else, he surely knew the abstract powers had no ears. That didn’t keep him-or a lot of other people-from talking as if they did.
Uto came out onto the front porch in time to hear what was going on. He had a gift for that. One day, he might make a fine spy. “Papa’s going to go off and kill a bunch of stinking Gongs?” he exclaimed. “Hurray!”
He capered about. Above his head, his mother and father and aunt exchanged wry looks. “If only it were so simple,” Pekka said sadly. “If only anything were so simple.”
Leino ruffled Uto’s coarse black hair. “Come on, you bloodthirsty little savage,” he said, his tone belying the harsh words. “Let’s go home and have some supper.”
“What’s supper going to be?” Uto’s tone implied that, if he didn’t care for what was offered, he might not feel like going home.
But when Pekka said, “I’ve got some nice crabs in the rest crate,” her son started capering again. He liked the soft, sweet flesh that lurked inside crabs’ shells. He liked cracking the shells to get at the meat even better.
As usual with crabs, he made a hideous mess of himself during supper. Odds were he liked that best of all. Afterwards, Pekka heated water on the stove to add to the cold she ran into a basin. Uto didn’t particularly like getting a bath, not least because Pekka spanked his bare wet bottom if he splashed too outrageously.
He played for a while after the bath. Then Leino read him a hunting story. After that, with only a token protest, he tucked his stuffed leviathan under his chin and went to sleep.
Pekka walked into the kitchen and came back with an old bottle of Jelga-van brandy and a couple of glasses. She poured drinks for herself and Leino. “What I’d really like to do is get so drunk I won’t be worth anything for the next two days,” she said. “Ilmarinen would do it-and then on the third day he’d come up with something nobody else would think of in the next hundred years.”
“He’s something, all right,” Leino agreed. “But I don’t want to talk about him, not tonight.”
Pekka cocked her head to one side and looked at him from the corner of her eye. “Oh?” she said, her voice arch. “What do you want to do tonight?”
“This,” he said, and took her in his arms. After they’d kissed and caressed each other for a while, Pekka thought he would lead her back to the bedchamber. Instead, he pulled her tunic off over her head and lowered his lips to her breasts.
“Oh,” she said softly, and pressed his head against her. But caution reasserted itself. “What if Uto walks in and catches us?”
“Then he does, that’s all,” Leino answered. “We’ll send him back to bed again with a warm backside, and then we’ll get back to what we were doing.”
Most nights, Pekka would have kept on arguing a good deal longer. Not tonight. She usually had a good healthy yen for her husband. Tonight, the way she stroked him, the way she took him in her mouth, the way she lay down in front of the fireplace and arched her hips so he could go into her felt as much like desperation as like passion. The mewling noises she made deep in her throat as her own pleasure overflowed came far louder and wilder than usual.
Sweat slicked Leino’s hair. It had very little to do with the fire only a few feet away. He grinned down at her. “I ought to get called into the service of the Seven Princes more often.”
She poked him in the ribs, which made him grunt and twist away and pull out of her. She felt him go with a stab of regret. How many more chances would they have before the war swept them apart? Would they ever have more chances after the war swept them apart?
To her dismay, tears dripped from the corners of her eyes and spilled down onto the rug. Leino brushed them away. “It’ll be all right,” he said. “Everything will be all right.”
“It had better be,” Pekka said fiercely. She clutched him to her. Presently, she felt him stir against her flank. That was what she’d been waiting for. She rolled him onto his back and rode astride him-she knew that was easier for his second round, and knew how much she wanted one. It wouldn’t solve anything-she knew as much, even while she threw back her head and gasped as if she’d run a long way. For now, though, she didn’t have to think about all the things that might happen later. And that wasn’t so bad.
The distant mutter ahead was the surf rolling up onto the rocky beaches of southern Valmiera. Cornelu glanced at the Lagoans his leviathan had borne across the Strait of Valmiera from Setubal. He spoke two words in their tongue: “Good luck.”
One of them said, “Thanks.” The other just nodded. They both let go of the leviathan’s harness and struck out for the shore a few hundred yards away. Cornelu wondered if he’d ever see either one again. He doubted it. The Lagoans were brave, but they weren’t showing much in the way of sense, not here.
Or maybe he had it wrong. He recognized the possibility. A lot was going on here, in the ocean, on the shore, and in the air above the little Valmieran village called Dukstas. Lagoan dragons flew overhead, dropping eggs all over the surrounding countryside and, with luck, keeping Algarvian footsoldiers from coming forward. Along with the saboteurs and spies who rode leviathans, Lagoan ships had brought along several regiments of soldiers. They were going up onto the beach even as Cornelu watched. For the first time, Lagoas was bringing the war home to the occupiers of Valmiera.