Kings Of The North Part 8

"Never mind," Dorrin said, to her apologies. "Clean out the pot-we can eat the last of the city bread tonight and in the morning, and tomorrow night I'll show you some tricks about cooking outdoors."

The long summer twilight softened around them; the first stars came out as they sat around the campfire. "My lord," Beclan said, "when you're moving an army, how many guards do you put out?"

"It depends on terrain," Dorrin said, "and what trouble you expect. But here, on this road, when I had most of a cohort with me-"

"You were on this road with a cohort? I thought Duke Phelan's lands were up north."

"When I was hurrying to catch up with him on his way east," Dorrin said, "I had, as I said, most of a cohort and basic supplies. We knew there'd been trouble. From Verella to Westbells, where we met Paksenarrion, we were riding in tight formation, moving fast enough I didn't set a rear guard, but did have a.s.signed flank guards whose job was to watch. Beyond Westbells, Paks often rode out as foreguard. Every time we stopped to rest the horses, there were guards out on all sides."

"What about in Aarenis?" Beclan asked. "In Siniava's War, not in peacetime."

"We always had fore-guards, flank guards, and rear guards. How many depended on how many troops we were moving. A cohort on the march, not mounted, would have mounted scouts, at least a pair on each side, one on the road ahead, one on the road behind." Dorrin gestured. "If you're in open country, where the scouts can ride at a distance but see the column clearly, it's easier. In wooded country, you need people who can operate on their own and not be ambushed themselves."

"Ambushed," Gwenno said, in the tone of someone for whom it was a game.

"Yes," Dorrin said. "Take this country, for instance. It's Mahieran land and peaceful to look at, but imagine it full of enemies. From the road to the river, how many troops do you think could lie hidden as we went past? This shady block of trees we chose to camp near-how many could be concealed in it, archers or arbalestiers? No ground is completely flat; every fold could have enemies in it-and they feel the same for us." She looked at the young faces, sober now as they considered what she'd said. She nodded at the Marshal-General. "I'm going to sleep outside tonight, I think, warm as it is, but I'll take a bucket-wash in my tent first-feel free to use my tent either way, if you will. We'll each take a watch for a turn of the gla.s.s. You squires will be paired with my militia." She gave the a.s.signments, and soon they were all asleep but the night guard.

Sometime after the turn of night, a rumble of thunder and a cool breeze woke her. Flashes of light in the distance-more thunder-Dorrin woke the camp. "Check the horses; make sure they don't stray-is the horse-line secure? Get all the gear into the tents." She herself grabbed an armful of firewood and moved it into her own tent, then checked the ropes and pegs before lying down inside.

The storm, like most summer night storms, came and went quickly; Dorrin had gone back to sleep with practiced ease, and woke in the damp dawn to see Efla poking disconsolately at the sodden fire-pit. "Here's dry wood," Dorrin said. She set it alight. "Boil water for sib and another pot for the eggs." The squires came out of their tent blinking and stretching. "Beclan, you and two of the men will fill in the jacks when we're ready to leave. Meanwhile, Gwenno and Daryan, you take the horses to water, groom them, get them tacked up. I'll ride the dark bay today." She went on giving instructions to her militia and then to Efla on making camp bread.

It took a gla.s.s longer to get this group moving than it would have a cohort, but it was, she reminded herself, their first night of real travel-inns did not count. That day she a.s.signed Inder to ride guard with the squires, and they rotated properly all day long.

As the little cavalcade moved east toward Verrakai lands, Dorrin found the Marshal-General a surprisingly good travel companion. She and Dorrin traded stories of days and nights of travel: storms, difficult stream crossings, the occasional encounter with brigands. Dorrin found herself telling tales of Aarenis; the Marshal-General was one of the few women with whom she could share stories of combat and command responsibilities. The squires listened in the evenings; Dorrin kept them busy by day. They were still on their best behavior, she could tell, but personalities showed through. Beclan felt ent.i.tled to be first in everything and had an air of condescension that clearly grated on Gwenno; she showed flashes of temper, quickly subdued after a glance at the Marshal-General. Daryan, as the youngest and shortest, seemed shyer, edging away from the other two.

"You're going to have an interesting time with them," the Marshal-General said, out of their hearing. "All three of them highborn, and none of them really grange-trained."

"They're all Girdish," Dorrin said.

"Aye, but reciting the Code word-perfect isn't the same as growing up in a real grange."

"Theirs aren't real?"

The Marshal-General made an impatient gesture. "Every n.o.ble house has a grange nearby-and so it should-but nothing I do convinces the Marshals who serve there and the yeomen who belong there that their liege is no greater in Gird's eyes than a yeoman. So their children are tutored in the Code, and mostly go to drill with their home grange, but they're also taught how to fight like a n.o.ble. Which do you think they prefer? They're born into privilege, and they like it-anyone would-but liking something doesn't mean it's good for you."

"Mmm." Dorrin rode on a few paces. At the moment, all three squires were out of earshot, flanking the column between her position and the rear guard. "I could see that with Beclan."

"Royal family." The Marshal-General looked as if she might spit, but didn't. "He's not the heir, but he thinks of himself, of all the Mahieran, as royalty. Ent.i.tled to deference. He thinks the girl should allow him precedence. And the girl's insulted as much on family grounds as personal ones. The Marrakaien, for all their Girdish faith, would think themselves superior to the Mahieran if they dared."

"I don't think there's much Gwenno wouldn't dare," Dorrin said, chuckling.

"Just so. Those two will push each other into rashness if you're not careful. The younger boy-he's not as meek and mild as he seems, I'll warrant." The Marshal-General took a swig from her waterskin and offered it to Dorrin, who shook her head.

"If I keep them busy enough," Dorrin said, "they should settle. A load uses up all that youthful energy."

"True." The Marshal-General twisted in the saddle, stretching. "I'm hoping your military background will see the foolishness of letting them indulge-lean on-their privileged backgrounds."

"Oh, yes," Dorrin said. "I saw that with some of Kieri's squires, and I have scant patience with it."

They arrived at the border of Verrakai Domain in midafternoon, having spent two nights in Harway so Dorrin could thank the tailor and cobbler for their work on her court clothes and order the supplies she thought she'd need for the next few tendays. Somewhat to her surprise, her people had made real progress on the road from Harway while she was gone. It ran almost straight and, if not smooth, was much improved. One of Dorrin's militia met them, this time politely.

"Lord Duke, welcome home."

"I'm glad to be back, Jaren." She was, in spite of her expectations. The woods were cooler than the fields had been; they camped that night in the new way-house she'd had built-still only a rough shelter of three walls and a roof, but at least it was rain proof.

The next evening they reached the house. Now sleek cows grazed in the water meadows near the stream; in the distance, the grain looked almost harvest-ready in the slanting golden light, though she knew it would be another three tendays at least. The house, blue-gray against the light, looked friendlier without the grim keep tower looming over it.

As they neared the house, Paks's red horse lifted its muzzle from the gra.s.s and whinnied loudly. Paks appeared from the gate in the garden wall, trailed by a gaggle of children.

"Marshal-General!" she called, waving; she broke into a run, leaving the children behind.

The Marshal-General stiffened; her horse stopped abruptly. "That light!"

Dorrin said, "The sun's glow?" It seemed especially golden that evening.

"It's more than that," the Marshal-General said.

"Dorrin," Paks said, slowing to a walk. "How was it? Did the king like the crown and things?"

"It's a long story," Dorrin said. "I'll tell it all, once we've bathed and eaten. You need to meet my new squires: Gwenno, Beclan, Daryan."

She dismounted just in time to meet the swarm of children who had now caught up with Paks. "Auntie Dorrin! Auntie Dorrin!"

Dorrin looked at Paks, who shrugged. "They're your family; they needed something to call you besides 'my lord.'"

It made sense, but...Auntie? She supposed she was, to most of them, but she had never imagined herself as an auntie. From the looks on her squires' faces, neither had they.

"Paks said you'd come back. We worried," Alis said.

"She taught us lots, while you were gone," Jedrah said. "So did Captain Selfer. I can figure how many mules for a cohort supply train!"

"And we played outside and learned how to pick caterpillars off the cabbages-and swim-well, some of us-"

"And when Mardi and Seli got in a fight, they weren't whipped," Mila said, leaning into Dorrin's side. "I know you said it would be different, but when you left, I thought maybe it would go back-but-but we're not scared now. Paks made them share a meal, and now they're friends again. And we can play with the servants' children if we want, and they can play with us."

"And n.o.body's been sick all summer, m'lord," the nursery-maid said. "No fevers at all."

The children chattered all the way back inside until one of the nursery-maids, catching a nod from Dorrin, sent them all upstairs "so the adults can hear themselves."

That night, for the first time, the old house felt like home, a home she could want to live in for the rest of her life. Selfer joined them for supper, another link to her old life; he and Paks had become friends, it seemed, in the time she'd been away. After supper, the three squires joined the elders around the table, and they talked late into the night, when a thunderstorm blew up from the north.

Next morning, Dorrin showed the Marshal-General where the old keep had been.

"You did right to burn it out," the Marshal-General said. "When did you do it?"

"Spring Evener," Dorrin said. "That's when Kieri was crowned, too, so I thought of it as a coronation bonfire as well as an offering for the Evener."

"All good thoughts," the Marshal-General said. "But now I'd like to see that well Paks was telling me about."

"We could ride over today, if you want."

This time she felt no need for an escort, even though some of her relatives were still missing. She left the squires at the house, telling them to familiarize themselves with the house and environs. On the way to Kindle, Dorrin described the village to the Marshal-General. "It won't look like that in a year or two," she said. "But don't expect much improvement. They won't have had time."

"You're trying to make it better," the Marshal-General said. "I can see that and feel it. How many granges are on your domain?"

"I'm not sure," Dorrin said. "I know Darkon Edge, of course, because that's the grange Paks raised for Kieri on the way to Lyonya. The maps I have don't show grange locations at all."

"I'll see that you have a list of those on our rolls," the Marshal-General said. "If they're lapsed, would you permit them to be reestablished?"

"Of course," Dorrin said.

"There's no 'of course' about it," the Marshal-General said. "You're Falkian; you might prefer to establish fields instead of granges."

"Tsaia's king is Girdish. Some of my friends are Girdish."

"Well, then. Your people need someone good to follow. I'll send you a couple of personable, cheerful young Marshals."

They came around a clump of trees, and there before them was Kindle-but a different Kindle.

"I thought you said it looked like a wreck of war," the Marshal-General said.

"It did-" Dorrin looked around her. Where was the real Kindle? "Did Paks do this?"

"I don't know. I suppose she could have."

The ramshackle huts now looked like cottages in need of some repair, which they were getting. A wall Dorrin clearly remembered as leaning now stood upright, and two half-grown children were smearing the uneven stones with mud; another side already had whitewash up to the thatch. Roof framing had been mended, so even old gra.s.s thatch looked more like a real roof, and others were now half-thatched with reeds.

Every cottage had its kitchen garden, and despite the late start, the gardens flourished. Washing hung over fences and bushes. Faces appeared at cottage doors, around corners-women and children mostly; the children already looked plumper and distinctly cleaner.

"She's back, she's back!" a small child screeched, and ran toward them. Dorrin dismounted, recognizing the little girl who had brought her the crown of flowers. The child flung herself at Dorrin, hugging her knees. "We's water!" she said.

"Don't bother the Duke," a woman said. "Come back-"

"It's all right," Dorrin said. "She's not bothering me. Look-this is the Marshal-General of Gird, come to visit. She wanted to see your village-and you've done so much work since I left-"

"Gird's grace on this place," the Marshal-General said. The women stared. "Did you ever have a grange here?"

Frightened looks now. "No...lady."

"Do you know who Gird is?"

"T'old duke, he said Gird was a liar and a thief and a long time dead and good riddance." That came out all in one breath.

"He was wrong about that," Dorrin said. "Look-you know the merin merin of wells and springs, don't you?" of wells and springs, don't you?"

"'Course, m'lord, everyone knows about them."

"And Alyanya, the Lady of Peace?"

"Ye-es."

"Gird was a farmer in a village, just like you," Dorrin said. "He put flowers at the well, just like you. He blooded the spade and the plough, first time in the ground, just like you."

"Yes, but-but he's dead."

"He did a lot of good things before he died," Dorrin said, with a glance at the Marshal-General. "You should learn about them."

"Is that what you want?"

"I want you to have a good life," Dorrin said. "And I think it would be good for you to learn about Gird, at least."

"Could Gird heal our well like it was, if he wasn't dead?"

"I don't know," Dorrin said with another glance at the Marshal-General.

"'Cause you did, m'lord, and you freed us from the old duke, and now we have water and our childer an't cryin' for food. We don't know Gird."

"Tell you what," Dorrin said. "I'll have a Marshal of Gird at the big house, and maybe the Marshal will come visit you-not to poke and pry, just visit-and maybe someday you'll want a Marshal nearer than that."

"Guess I don't mind that," said a woman with a baby slung on her hip.

"Now let's see the rest of this-you've done so much work in so little time-" The villagers led them from cottage to cottage, bragging on one another. This one had found the stand of reeds, and that one had found a better lens of clay to seal between the stones, and these two men had gone all the way to a village more than a day away to learn how to use the reeds instead of gra.s.s. And would m'lord mind if someone added a room or a shed to their cottage?

"All from a well being renewed," the Marshal-General murmured.

"It saves them work, and they don't have that curse operating here," Dorrin said.

"They have hope again, because of you," the Marshal-General said. "But they need direction. You might have time to direct this one, but not all your villages. They must learn to make better decisions themselves, not because they were ordered to. Girdish Marshals and yeoman-marshals can teach them."

"They don't know Gird," Dorrin said. "And it's been less than half a year. Send me a Marshal or two by all means, but let the people see first that I welcome them."

The Marshal-General shook her head. "It goes against my training to have lords intervene between the people and Marshals of Gird."

"Particularly when they aren't Girdish themselves, I expect," Dorrin said. "And have used magery."

"That, too," the Marshal-General said. "Though here, they needed your magery." She sighed. "I cannot regret inviting Paksenarrion to join the company of paladins, but she certainly did start a cascade of events that still hurtles...somewhere. And I don't know where."

"You blame Paks for this?" Dorrin waved her hand at the well, the village.