Читать книгу The Mountain's Call - Caitlin Brennan - Страница 9

The hostages joined the caravan in Mallia. They had been riding at a punishing pace, thanks to their escort. The emperor’s guard had no love to spare for the sons of barbarian chieftains who had made war against the empire. Even if the emperor had seen fit to take them as hostages for their fathers’ good behavior, the emperor’s soldiers saw no reason to treat them as anything but enemies.

Euan Rohe had a tougher rump than most. But after far too many days on imperial remounts, with a change at every station and a bare pause to eat or piss, he was hobbling as badly as the others. He groaned in relief when he heard that they were to stop for a whole night in this little pimple of a town.

For a town this small and this close to the heart of the empire, it had a sizable garrison. There was a legion quartered here under an elderly but able commander. He inspected his temporary charges with a singular lack of expression and said to his orderly, “Clear out the west barracks. Tell the veterans to keep their opinions to themselves, or they’ll be answering to me.”

Euan felt his brows go up. There had been no need for the man to say that in the hostages’ hearing. It was a challenge of sorts, and a warning.

They had had a good number of those as they rode from the frontier. He knew better than to take them for granted. A hostage survived by staying on guard.

The west barracks made a decent prison. Its windows were high and barred, and the guards took station near the doors. It seemed excessive for half a dozen hostages, but that was the empire of Aurelia. It did everything to excess.

The hostages were determined not to cause trouble. There would be enough of that later, the One God willing. They ate what they were fed and went directly to sleep.

It was still dark when they were rousted out. The caravan was just starting to assemble. It was a merchant caravan for the most part, but some of it was even more heavily guarded than the hostages. That was the treasure transport, carrying coin and tribute to the school on the Mountain.

Euan was in no way eager to climb into the saddle. He delayed as long as he could, which was a fair while with a caravan of this size.

As he busied himself with the sixth or seventh readjustment of a bridle strap, the commander came out of the legionaries’ barracks with a pair of his countrymen. They were both much younger than he. One was a hawk-faced man who walked like a warrior, light and dangerous. The other was a boy. Or…

Euan peered. Boys could be beautiful in Aurelia, with their smooth olive skin and black curly hair. He had mistaken a few for girls in his time, and been royally embarrassed by it, too. This must be a boy. Girls in this country wore skirts and did not cut their hair. And yet…

This was interesting. He busied himself with his horse’s girth and watched under his brows. The commander and the hawk-faced man took the boy, if boy it was, to the caravan master. Euan could not hear every word they said, but it was clear the young person was being entrusted to the caravan for transport north.

The boy did not say anything while they made arrangements for him. His eyes were wide, taking in the caravan. They widened even further as he caught sight of the hostages in their ring of guards. From the look of him, he had never seen princes of the Caletanni before.

Euan rather thought the boy liked what he saw. He would probably die before he admitted it. Gavin favored him with a broad and mocking grin. The boy looked away hastily.

The negotiations were short and amicable. Whoever the hawk-faced man was, he won a degree of respect from the caravan master that even the legionary commander could not match. The boy must be a relative, from the way the caravan master treated him.

The boy broke his silence when the horses were brought out. His horse was a pretty black of a much lighter and more elegant breed than Euan’s big dray horse. He seemed to be looking for another, and not seeing it. “Aren’t you coming?” he asked the hawk-faced man.

His voice was as ambiguous as his face. If it was a boy’s, it was on the light side, but it was deep for a girl’s.

“I have other business here,” the man said. “You’ll be safe with Master Rowan. He’ll look after you as if you were his own, and take you where you want to go.”

The boy set his lips together. Euan could see how unhappy he was, but he did not whine or beg. He turned his back and mounted the black horse, then waited for the rest of them with an air of cold disdain.

The man shook his head slightly, but did not press the issue. They were either brothers or lovers, Euan thought. No one else would wage war over matters so small.

At long last the caravan began to move. Its pace was slow, dictated by the mules and the oxen. They would be on the road for days longer than strictly necessary, but none of the hostages minded overmuch. They needed time to rest and steady their minds before they reached their destination.

Their guards’ vigilance was less strict in the caravan than it had been on the way from the border. They were allowed to move somewhat among the men of the caravan, and to carry on conversations. They used the opportunity to practice their Aurelian as well as the horsemanship they had been practicing, forcibly, since the day they were sent on this journey.

The boy from Mallia had his own small tent, which was pitched every night beside the caravan master’s. One of the master’s servants saw to his needs. He ate his meals with the master or his guards. He was kept as close as a virgin daughter.

Euan loved a challenge. He scouted the ground and laid his plan. By the second day he was ready to make his move.

The night before, they had stayed in one of the imperial caravanserais. Tonight they were too far from the nearest town to cover the distance before dark. They camped along the road instead, setting up a guarded camp with earthen walls in the legionary style.

While most of the guards were busy with the earthwork, Euan saw his opening. The boy insisted on taking care of his own horse, against some opposition. Euan chose to station his horse in the line not far from the black, and to practice his newly acquired horse-tending skills.

The boy was much better at it than he was. He hardly needed to pretend to be inept. As he had hoped, his fumbling brought the boy over to lend a hand.

This was not a boy. Euan was sure of that as they worked side by side to rub the horse down and feed him his nose bag of barley. It was like a fragrance so faint he was barely aware of it. This was a young woman.

Once Euan had assured himself of that, he could not see her as a man. Her hands were too slender and her throat too smooth. Her face was too fine to be male, even young imperial male.

He kept his thoughts to himself and stood with her while the horse ate his barley, watching the last of the earthwork go up around them. “You build a city in an hour,” he said. “Then in the morning, in much less than an hour, the wall will be gone and the camp with it. It’s a very imperial thing. Even for a night you raise up a fortress.”

She slanted a glance at him. Her eyes were a fascinating color, not exactly brown, not exactly green, with flecks of gold like sunlight in a forest pool. “You speak Aurelian well,” she said.

“I work at it.”

“The way you work at your riding?”

He snorted. “We’re not born on a horse’s back and suckled on mares’ milk the way you people are.” He paused. “Am I really that bad?”

“The others are worse.”

“Probably not by much.”

The corner of her mouth turned up. “You could almost learn to ride.”

“I hope so,” he said. “That’s what we’re doing. We’re going to the Mountain, to the School of War. We’re supposed to learn to be cavalrymen.”

“I suppose if anyone can teach you, the masters there can.”

“So everyone hopes,” Euan said. He paused before he cast the dice. “My name is Euan. And yours?”

“Valens,” she said.

That was a man’s name. Euan was careful not to comment on it. “I take it you’re for the Mountain, too. School of War?”

“I’m Called,” she said.

She spoke as if he must know what she was talking about. It took him a while to understand, then to realize what, in this case, it meant. He almost said, “But surely women aren’t—”

He caught himself just in time. This was beyond interesting. It was a gift from the One God.

He would have to play it very, very carefully. He bent his head in respect, as he had heard one should, and let her see a little of his fascination. “You’re the first I’ve seen,” he said. “No wonder they’re transporting you with the treasure.”

Her lip curled. “That’s not because I’m Called. It’s because of Kerrec.”

She spoke the name as if it had a bitter taste. She had not forgiven the man for abandoning her to the caravan. That too Euan could use.

He put on an expression of wry sympathy. “Your brother?” he asked.

“Not in this life,” she said.

Ah, so, he thought. “He’s too protective, is he? Or not protective enough?”

“He’s too everything,” she said. She spun on her heel. “I’m hungry. They always feed me too much. Would you help me with it?”

“Gladly,” he said, and he meant it.

Once more her mouth curved in that enchanting half-smile. “I’ve seen what they’ve been feeding you,” she said. “You shouldn’t have to be eating soldier’s rations here.”

He shrugged. “They don’t love us. We’ve killed too many of them—won too many battles, too, even if we lost the war. We can hardly blame them for taking what revenge they can.”

“You have a great deal of forbearance,” she said. She sounded a little surprised. “I had always thought—”

He showed her all his teeth. “Oh, we’re wild enough. We take heads. We eat the hearts of heroes. That doesn’t stop us from understanding how an enemy thinks.”

“Of course not,” she said. “The better you understand, the easier it is to find ways to defeat him.”

Euan’s heart stopped. The Called were mages. He had let himself forget that quite important fact. Many mages could read patterns and predict outcomes. Mages of the Mountain could do more than that. Even one who was completely untrained and untested might be able to see too clearly for comfort.

He shook off his sudden fit of the horrors. It was a lucky shot, that was all. She showed no sign of denouncing him as a traitor to the empire.

Her dinner was certainly better than the one his kinsmen would be getting. He was not fond of the spices these people poured on everything, but the bread was fresh and good. There was meat, which he had not had in days, and it was not too badly overcooked. She left him most of that. He left her all of the greens and the boiled vegetables. “Horse feed,” he said.

That half smile of hers was a lethal weapon, if she wanted to use it that way. “I do want to be a horse mage, after all,” she said.

He saluted her with a half-gnawed bone. “I hope a cavalryman is allowed to eat like a man, then, instead of a horse.”

“You eat like a wolf,” she said. “They must be feeding you even worse than I thought.”

“It’s not what we’re used to,” he admitted.

She nodded as if in thought. There was a line between her brows. When she spoke again, it was to change the subject. “Tell me about your country.”

“In the south and west we have forests like yours,” he said. “Beyond that, past the spine of mountains, it’s a broad land of heath and crag. Rivers run there, too fast and deep to ford, and cold as snow. The wind cuts like a knife and sings like a woman keening for her lover. The bones of the earth are bare as often as not. It’s a hard country, but it raises strong men.”

“My father said there are fish in the lakes there that are as big as a man, with flesh so sweet that the gods could dine on it.”

“Your father has been there?”

“He fought there,” she said. “Does that bother you?”

“No,” he said. “War is life. A man is only a man if he’s fought well. I suppose your father did if he was in the legions. Which was his? The Valeria?”

She started as if he had stung her. Aha, he thought. So that was her proper name. She recovered quickly. “Yes. Yes, that was his legion.”

“We call them the Red Wolves,” he said. “Mothers terrify their children with the threat of them. They’re the great enemy. It was the Valeria that took us in the last battle and brought us into the empire.”

“You don’t hate them,” she said. “I’d think you would.”

“They’re a worthy opponent,” he said. “War has its balance. Someday we’ll defeat them and lead them in halters through our camps.”

“You are different than anything I expected,” she said slowly.

“Is that a good thing?” he asked.

It took her a moment to answer. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I’ll think about it.”

Euan thought he might be in love. This was not his first imperial woman, by far, but it was certainly the first who had wanted everyone to think she was a man. He would have liked to see her hair before she chopped it off. He would have liked even more to see what she was like under the sexless clothes she wore.

He was sure it was love when he came back to the rest of the hostages and found them lying back, replete after a feast identical to the one he had just finished. Someone had put in a word, it seemed. He could guess who it was.

They were all in her debt, and Euan made sure they knew it. He did not tell them her secret. If they had eyes to see, then they could. Otherwise, he would enjoy the field without a rival.