the worst and cheapest provender, unless it
was provided by one of his family’s friends. Weslyn tries, in his own way. We
actually have a few spare mounts, now.”
“And
the food usually isn’t spoiled.”
Feran
tipped the sander king sideways on the leschec board. “I don’t see any point in
continuing the game.” He shook his head. “You think life is one big leschec
game?”
“I’d
hate to think so,” Alucius replied. “It’s played too badly for that, from what
I’ve seen.”
“But
do we see everything?” countered Feran as he began picking up the pieces and
replacing them in the battered wooden box.
“I’m
sure we don’t, but there’s an awful lot of waste in what I’ve seen.”
“Sometimes,
I wonder.”
“Don’t
we all.” Alucius stretched, then stood. “I ought to get some sleep. I’m going
out with fifth squad in the morning.”
“At
dawn?”
“We’re
forming up at dawn.”
“When
we take over the patrols next week, we’re not going that early,” Feran
promised.
“It
has its advantages. We see more, and the men get more time off when we get
back.”
“I’d
rather get more sleep.”
“Go
to bed earlier,” Alucius suggested humorously as he turned toward his small
room.
“You
herders…” Feran laughed again.
18
B y the
third week of Triem, the roads around Emal were actually usable, with
farmers and peddlers occasionally traveling into town. Alucius and Feran had
been able to send out road patrols without it taking a half day to travel three
or four vingts, although the patrols had revealed nothing untoward. The rankers
of the Third Foot squads, charged with bridge duty and collecting
tariffs—always small—and nominally under Feran’s command, had reported nothing
strange among those crossing the bridge to or from Semal.
In
the sunny late-Quattri afternoon, with a light breeze playing across the
courtyard of the outpost, the two captains were standing outside the
headquarters building, watching as their troopers unloaded the three supply
wagons that had finally arrived from Dekhron, along with the two returning
troopers that Alucius had sent with his report almost a month earlier. Alucius
and Feran had already locked the two pay chests into the small strong room
before returning to monitor the remainder of the off-loading.
The
two troopers walked from the stable toward the captains. They had tried to
brush the dust and mud off their uniforms, but from their boots and their
trousers below the knees, it was clear that parts of the river road were still
quagmires.
“Captain…we
have three messages. Two are from Colonel Clyon. That’s one for each of you,
and one…” Firtal grinned as he extended an envelope to Alucius. “It’s
personal-like, sir, I wager.”
Alucius
returned the smile and reached for his wallet, extending six coppers, three for
each trooper, the going rate for such “unofficial” messages. “I’ll probably
appreciate the last one most, Firtal.”
“Seeing
as it looks to be from a woman, sir.”
“My
wife,” Alucius said with a smile.
“Thought
as much, sir, when the herder brought it to me.”
“Do
you remember what herder?”
“Said
his name was Kustyl, and since he had business in Dekhron, he brought this from
his granddaughter. Remembered that, sir, cause he didn’t look old enough for a
daughter you’d be…well…” Firtal flushed.
“He
is, believe me,” Alucius said. “And he’s a good herder, one of the best.”
Alucius grinned. “And we’ve not been married but a year.”
“No
wonder you were looking for that message,” Feran said.
The
troopers smiled more widely.
“Enough,”
Alucius said, mock-gruffly. “We’ll need to read the messages from the colonel
first.” He wasn’t looking forward to that message, one way or another.
“Yes,
sir.” Firtal and Doonan nodded and stepped away, trying hard to keep the smiles
from their faces.
Alucius
tucked the message from Wendra inside his tunic and
was provided by one of his family’s friends. Weslyn tries, in his own way. We
actually have a few spare mounts, now.”
“And
the food usually isn’t spoiled.”
Feran
tipped the sander king sideways on the leschec board. “I don’t see any point in
continuing the game.” He shook his head. “You think life is one big leschec
game?”
“I’d
hate to think so,” Alucius replied. “It’s played too badly for that, from what
I’ve seen.”
“But
do we see everything?” countered Feran as he began picking up the pieces and
replacing them in the battered wooden box.
“I’m
sure we don’t, but there’s an awful lot of waste in what I’ve seen.”
“Sometimes,
I wonder.”
“Don’t
we all.” Alucius stretched, then stood. “I ought to get some sleep. I’m going
out with fifth squad in the morning.”
“At
dawn?”
“We’re
forming up at dawn.”
“When
we take over the patrols next week, we’re not going that early,” Feran
promised.
“It
has its advantages. We see more, and the men get more time off when we get
back.”
“I’d
rather get more sleep.”
“Go
to bed earlier,” Alucius suggested humorously as he turned toward his small
room.
“You
herders…” Feran laughed again.
18
B y the
third week of Triem, the roads around Emal were actually usable, with
farmers and peddlers occasionally traveling into town. Alucius and Feran had
been able to send out road patrols without it taking a half day to travel three
or four vingts, although the patrols had revealed nothing untoward. The rankers
of the Third Foot squads, charged with bridge duty and collecting
tariffs—always small—and nominally under Feran’s command, had reported nothing
strange among those crossing the bridge to or from Semal.
In
the sunny late-Quattri afternoon, with a light breeze playing across the
courtyard of the outpost, the two captains were standing outside the
headquarters building, watching as their troopers unloaded the three supply
wagons that had finally arrived from Dekhron, along with the two returning
troopers that Alucius had sent with his report almost a month earlier. Alucius
and Feran had already locked the two pay chests into the small strong room
before returning to monitor the remainder of the off-loading.
The
two troopers walked from the stable toward the captains. They had tried to
brush the dust and mud off their uniforms, but from their boots and their
trousers below the knees, it was clear that parts of the river road were still
quagmires.
“Captain…we
have three messages. Two are from Colonel Clyon. That’s one for each of you,
and one…” Firtal grinned as he extended an envelope to Alucius. “It’s
personal-like, sir, I wager.”
Alucius
returned the smile and reached for his wallet, extending six coppers, three for
each trooper, the going rate for such “unofficial” messages. “I’ll probably
appreciate the last one most, Firtal.”
“Seeing
as it looks to be from a woman, sir.”
“My
wife,” Alucius said with a smile.
“Thought
as much, sir, when the herder brought it to me.”
“Do
you remember what herder?”
“Said
his name was Kustyl, and since he had business in Dekhron, he brought this from
his granddaughter. Remembered that, sir, cause he didn’t look old enough for a
daughter you’d be…well…” Firtal flushed.
“He
is, believe me,” Alucius said. “And he’s a good herder, one of the best.”
Alucius grinned. “And we’ve not been married but a year.”
“No
wonder you were looking for that message,” Feran said.
The
troopers smiled more widely.
“Enough,”
Alucius said, mock-gruffly. “We’ll need to read the messages from the colonel
first.” He wasn’t looking forward to that message, one way or another.
“Yes,
sir.” Firtal and Doonan nodded and stepped away, trying hard to keep the smiles
from their faces.
Alucius
tucked the message from Wendra inside his tunic and
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