Birthday. We need the General here. She’s a stable influence, and it would look bad to have her gone right now.”
And Idden long gone from Fort Jones, too,
I thought, so
an entirely wasted trip.
“Maybe the Warlord won’t let her go,” I said, hopefully.
“Lay off, Reverdy!” Mamma’s voice rose again. “I need your support here!”
Lieutenant Sabre and I leaned back against the door and heard Poppy say, “Be reasonable, Buck. Rushing off to Fort Jones isn’t going to solve anything. If Idden has deserted, she’s long gone.”
“I refuse to believe that Idden would ever desert,” Mamma said. “She is probably lying at the bottom of a ravine somewhere.”
“For three weeks, Buck?” Poppy said quietly. “Then there really is no point, is there? Hardy’s letter said they searched for her and found nothing—no horse, no dogs, no Idden. And taking the QM funds is a sure sign that she scarpered. She’s gone, Juliet. She’s gone.”
For a moment there was silence, and then Mamma said, “I can’t go through this again, Reverdy. I just can’t. I can’t lose another child. I have to find her.”
“And if you find her? What then? Are you going to court-martial her and shoot her?”
“Of course not.”
“How are you going to have any choice? Will you be so openly partisan?”
Another silence, and Lieutenant Sabre and I looked at each other. Mamma would never have her own daughter shot, would she? Would she? The look on Lieutenant Sabre’s face said he certainly thought she would.
Oh Idden, you snapperhead.
I really hoped she had covered her tracks well. I hoped, hoped that she and the other Horses of Instruction were far, far from the City now. Long gone.
We heard the footsteps just in time and retreated halfway down the Below Stairs, so it wouldn’t be obvious we’d been listening. Without giving a look our way, Mamma flung herself upstairs, her face as hard as stone, her dressing gown flapping.
Poppy stood at the top of the Below Stairs, looking down at us. “She’s going to Fort Jones,” he said. “I tried to persuade her otherwise, but when has Buck ever listened to me? You’d better get packing, Aglis. You have a long trip ahead of you.”
“My condolences, sir.” Lieutenant Sabre saluted and skedaddled, no doubt wishing he could flee somewhere no one had ever heard of the Fyrdraaca family. I knew how he felt.
“I’m sure she’s all right, Poppy wherever she is,” I said, after a moment.
“I hope you are right,” Poppy answered. “If you heard from Idden you would tell me, wouldn’t you, Flora?”
One of the annoying aspects of Poppy being sober is that he now is much harder to deflect. He was looking down at me with a green gaze that pierced me to my very soul and made me want to start to blather. Mamma can do this easily, but I had not known Poppy had the same talent. Guilt stabbed at me.
He continued, “I don’t care if she deserts from the Army a thousand times over. I just want to know she is all right.”
Mamma had said:
I can’t lose another child.
The first Flora gone, and now Idden. I was the only Fyrdraaca child left. My waffles churned into a painful throb and for a moment I thought about spilling my guts—not my breakfast, but my guilt. Why should I cover for Idden? I didn’t know where she was. And I
had
crossed on the promise not to give her up, which meant it wasn’t binding. But what if I did tell Poppy I’d seen her? How could he help her? He could barely help himself. And if he told Mamma, then she would have no choice but to court-martial Idden and maybe even shoot her.
When in doubt, keep your yip shut,
said Nini Mo.
So I said, “Idden can take care of herself, Poppy. I’m sure she’s fine.”
“No doubt you are right, but I wish I knew for sure. The Fyrdraacas dwindle,” Poppy said sadly. “I think we can fall no further, and yet there’s always more down.”
Eleven
Mamma Departs. Tactics. Getting Dressed.
B Y LUNCHTIME Mamma
Maggie Brendan
Barbara O'Connor
Jan Washburn
Terri Blackstock
Norah Simone
Barry Kemp
G.P. Taylor
Alan Cumyn
Linda Barnes
Lisa Jackson