time I snuck up on you, you got more raw than the last time I shouted coming through, so I figured I’d go with the shouting again.”
“I take your point. But if you shout or sneak again, you’ll be walking the rest of the way. Perhaps in the harness.”
I suspected that wasn’t as much of a jest as it should’ve been.
They fell silent and left me to wonder at this strange former savage turned whore turned, what, exactly, scout? Servant? Retainer? I nearly laughed, though the whole thing was infinitely more sad than funny. And yet she told her story—what she did tell of it, anyway—in such flat, emotionless terms, so at odds at the utter tragedy of the tale. It was all so exceptionally strange and perplexing.
⊕
We rode the road from Rivermost for some time, though it was mostly just a collection of ruts. After setting my pages to dry, and hearing no noteworthy conversations coming from the front of the wagon—Braylar and Lloi had lapsed into that silence only old comrades or complete strangers can sustain or tolerate—I moved to the rear. There were some travelers far in the distance, but their wagon must have been going just a bit slower than ours, as it incrementally grew smaller on the horizon until it was barely distinguishable as anything at all.
I fell asleep like that, head resting against a barrel. When I woke, we weren’t on the road, the sun had slipped much lower in the sky, and my face probably looked like the wood. I climbed out of the wagon and looked around. The road was some distance off, and I would’ve missed it in the tall grass if it weren’t for a single man leading an ox-drawn cart down it. I walked around to the front. Braylar had unharnessed the horses and led them off to graze. Braylar’s own horses were still tethered on the side, and one looked up at me briefly before returning to its grassy meal. Neither Lloi nor her horse were in sight. Braylar was brushing the horses while they ate. I raised my arm and waved. The gesture wasn’t returned.
I waited for some time as he led his horses back and fitted them to the harness again. I thought he’d ask for my assistance, but he didn’t, which I thought just as well—my experience with horses was certainly of little value, and I was sure I would’ve only gotten in the way.
Braylar pulled himself back up to the bench and acknowledged me for the first time when I said, “Lloi doesn’t stay in one spot for very long. Where’s she off to now?”
“I do believe you’re infatuated. She’s off scouting the area.”
I looked around, seeing little besides rut and grass. “Is there that much to scout?”
“There are four basic elements to soldiering: training, logistics, strategy, and tactics. Of these, the first is the only one you can do—that is, with even moderate success—without the aid of intelligence. There’s more than one way to gather intelligence, but scouting is surely the most fundamental and immediate. Particularly in a foreign land. So, while we’re not a full company on a large-scale campaign, the principles remain the same. I have enemies, known and unknown, I’m not in friendly territory, and I wouldn’t travel without intelligence of what is over the horizon, yes? Lloi rides the horizon.” He cast a sideways glance at me and added, “Fear not. She’ll find us. She’s a creature of the steppe. We could be a thousand miles distant, but so long as we were still in the grass, I’m confident she would track us down. More importantly, she knows the route we intend to take.”
Like so many things he said, this did nothing to clarify anything. I asked, foolishly perhaps, “Is Lloi your woman?” I would’ve said lady, but that clearly didn’t apply.
Captain Killcoin laughed and punched me on the arm so hard I nearly fell off the bench. “That’s the height of hilarity, Arki. Truly. Even if I could love one such as her—and that, if you failed to observe, is what I find so amusing—but even if
“I take your point. But if you shout or sneak again, you’ll be walking the rest of the way. Perhaps in the harness.”
I suspected that wasn’t as much of a jest as it should’ve been.
They fell silent and left me to wonder at this strange former savage turned whore turned, what, exactly, scout? Servant? Retainer? I nearly laughed, though the whole thing was infinitely more sad than funny. And yet she told her story—what she did tell of it, anyway—in such flat, emotionless terms, so at odds at the utter tragedy of the tale. It was all so exceptionally strange and perplexing.
⊕
We rode the road from Rivermost for some time, though it was mostly just a collection of ruts. After setting my pages to dry, and hearing no noteworthy conversations coming from the front of the wagon—Braylar and Lloi had lapsed into that silence only old comrades or complete strangers can sustain or tolerate—I moved to the rear. There were some travelers far in the distance, but their wagon must have been going just a bit slower than ours, as it incrementally grew smaller on the horizon until it was barely distinguishable as anything at all.
I fell asleep like that, head resting against a barrel. When I woke, we weren’t on the road, the sun had slipped much lower in the sky, and my face probably looked like the wood. I climbed out of the wagon and looked around. The road was some distance off, and I would’ve missed it in the tall grass if it weren’t for a single man leading an ox-drawn cart down it. I walked around to the front. Braylar had unharnessed the horses and led them off to graze. Braylar’s own horses were still tethered on the side, and one looked up at me briefly before returning to its grassy meal. Neither Lloi nor her horse were in sight. Braylar was brushing the horses while they ate. I raised my arm and waved. The gesture wasn’t returned.
I waited for some time as he led his horses back and fitted them to the harness again. I thought he’d ask for my assistance, but he didn’t, which I thought just as well—my experience with horses was certainly of little value, and I was sure I would’ve only gotten in the way.
Braylar pulled himself back up to the bench and acknowledged me for the first time when I said, “Lloi doesn’t stay in one spot for very long. Where’s she off to now?”
“I do believe you’re infatuated. She’s off scouting the area.”
I looked around, seeing little besides rut and grass. “Is there that much to scout?”
“There are four basic elements to soldiering: training, logistics, strategy, and tactics. Of these, the first is the only one you can do—that is, with even moderate success—without the aid of intelligence. There’s more than one way to gather intelligence, but scouting is surely the most fundamental and immediate. Particularly in a foreign land. So, while we’re not a full company on a large-scale campaign, the principles remain the same. I have enemies, known and unknown, I’m not in friendly territory, and I wouldn’t travel without intelligence of what is over the horizon, yes? Lloi rides the horizon.” He cast a sideways glance at me and added, “Fear not. She’ll find us. She’s a creature of the steppe. We could be a thousand miles distant, but so long as we were still in the grass, I’m confident she would track us down. More importantly, she knows the route we intend to take.”
Like so many things he said, this did nothing to clarify anything. I asked, foolishly perhaps, “Is Lloi your woman?” I would’ve said lady, but that clearly didn’t apply.
Captain Killcoin laughed and punched me on the arm so hard I nearly fell off the bench. “That’s the height of hilarity, Arki. Truly. Even if I could love one such as her—and that, if you failed to observe, is what I find so amusing—but even if
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