a new regiment, I believe.”
“Yes. By Karina’s Steel! Some look likely. But there are far too many I would not trust on the field at my side, let alone at my back.”
Thankfully, Silda knew that would not occur for her. She could not face the prospect of actually having to go into a battle and fight against Drak and his soldiers. She’d just up sticks and desert and return to her proper allegiance. She would have failed in her task if that happened; but the thought of fighting against her own friends disgusted her.
“We are to have a few of the new girls, Lyss. And we can send some of ours in replacement.” Failsham slid a sidelong look at Silda as they sat at the scrubbed wooden tables and the slaves scurried with food. “I suppose you will send Sosie the Slop into the new regiment. You are to have five more girls to add to your pastang.”
This was an eminently sensible arrangement. Any commander would dismiss her worst soldiers, get rid of them to some other unfortunate. The best girls would be taken into Alloran’s own private regiment of Jikai Vuvushis.
The delicious aroma of vosk pie wafted to Silda’s nostrils. Momolams, yellow and succulent with butter, piled on the side dishes. There were vegetables in abundance. She indicated to the serving wenches what she required, and as her plate filled, she said: “Well, Gilda, no. I would like to keep Sosie. Oh, yes, she is a Slop. She is a mess. But she fights well.”
“I cannot pretend to be surprised. Just make sure the king never catches her looking like the wet end of a mop.”
Silda smiled, and went on: “I would like to claim one of the new girls for my pastang. Mandi Volanta. She looks useful.”
Jiktar Nandi the Tempestuous leaned across the table and waved her knife in Silda’s face.
“You have sharp eyes, Lyss. But I will not claim her, for her name and mine — well, confusion is to be avoided in a fight.”
“If you cannot remember or disentangle names,” said Chuktar Gilda Failsham with prim smugness, “you will soon find yourself cut down and shipped off to the Ice Floes of Sicce.”
“Oh, yes, of course!”
“As to this Mandi Volanta, Lyss. Yes, you may take her into your pastang.”
“Thank you, Gilda.”
Nandi used that dangerous knife to spear a chunk of vosk pie. “She and you, Lyss, are of the Sisters of Renunciation. A strict Order, I hear. I do not see why you don’t join us in the Sisters of the Sword.”
The name Sisters of Renunciation was often used by members of the Sisters of the Rose as a cover name. It was a well-concealed secret. Now Silda smiled again and chewed her vosk and cabbage without replying.
The deception was not quite meaningless, for the vast majority of the SoR had not gone over to Alloran. They had remained loyal to the empire and the empress. And, that meant they were loyal to the emperor as well. Once a Sister of the Rose went into action as only a girl of the SoR could, why, then, there would be no concealing the secret from anyone who understood. She felt that even had Lon the Knees seen the fight with the chavonth clearly, he still wouldn’t really have grasped what he was looking at.
There was no doubt about it, in the special and particular Disciplines of the SoR, Silda Segutoria was quick, was extremely quick, was a most rapid lady...
The brown bag called a knapsack she wore might not be as easy to open and close as a more normal jikvarpam, which besides being designed for the job with specially strengthened corners and sides and a fastening that would not delay nimble fingers by a hairsbreadth, would have a few rows of bright red stitching to distinguish it from the next girl’s; but the knapsack looked just as it was supposed to look. Any girl was entitled to a bag to carry her kit in, surely? No one was going to think for an instant the humble canvas bag was a jikvarpam, were they now?
Silda sincerely hoped not.
The refectory began to fill as the officers of the regiment
“Yes. By Karina’s Steel! Some look likely. But there are far too many I would not trust on the field at my side, let alone at my back.”
Thankfully, Silda knew that would not occur for her. She could not face the prospect of actually having to go into a battle and fight against Drak and his soldiers. She’d just up sticks and desert and return to her proper allegiance. She would have failed in her task if that happened; but the thought of fighting against her own friends disgusted her.
“We are to have a few of the new girls, Lyss. And we can send some of ours in replacement.” Failsham slid a sidelong look at Silda as they sat at the scrubbed wooden tables and the slaves scurried with food. “I suppose you will send Sosie the Slop into the new regiment. You are to have five more girls to add to your pastang.”
This was an eminently sensible arrangement. Any commander would dismiss her worst soldiers, get rid of them to some other unfortunate. The best girls would be taken into Alloran’s own private regiment of Jikai Vuvushis.
The delicious aroma of vosk pie wafted to Silda’s nostrils. Momolams, yellow and succulent with butter, piled on the side dishes. There were vegetables in abundance. She indicated to the serving wenches what she required, and as her plate filled, she said: “Well, Gilda, no. I would like to keep Sosie. Oh, yes, she is a Slop. She is a mess. But she fights well.”
“I cannot pretend to be surprised. Just make sure the king never catches her looking like the wet end of a mop.”
Silda smiled, and went on: “I would like to claim one of the new girls for my pastang. Mandi Volanta. She looks useful.”
Jiktar Nandi the Tempestuous leaned across the table and waved her knife in Silda’s face.
“You have sharp eyes, Lyss. But I will not claim her, for her name and mine — well, confusion is to be avoided in a fight.”
“If you cannot remember or disentangle names,” said Chuktar Gilda Failsham with prim smugness, “you will soon find yourself cut down and shipped off to the Ice Floes of Sicce.”
“Oh, yes, of course!”
“As to this Mandi Volanta, Lyss. Yes, you may take her into your pastang.”
“Thank you, Gilda.”
Nandi used that dangerous knife to spear a chunk of vosk pie. “She and you, Lyss, are of the Sisters of Renunciation. A strict Order, I hear. I do not see why you don’t join us in the Sisters of the Sword.”
The name Sisters of Renunciation was often used by members of the Sisters of the Rose as a cover name. It was a well-concealed secret. Now Silda smiled again and chewed her vosk and cabbage without replying.
The deception was not quite meaningless, for the vast majority of the SoR had not gone over to Alloran. They had remained loyal to the empire and the empress. And, that meant they were loyal to the emperor as well. Once a Sister of the Rose went into action as only a girl of the SoR could, why, then, there would be no concealing the secret from anyone who understood. She felt that even had Lon the Knees seen the fight with the chavonth clearly, he still wouldn’t really have grasped what he was looking at.
There was no doubt about it, in the special and particular Disciplines of the SoR, Silda Segutoria was quick, was extremely quick, was a most rapid lady...
The brown bag called a knapsack she wore might not be as easy to open and close as a more normal jikvarpam, which besides being designed for the job with specially strengthened corners and sides and a fastening that would not delay nimble fingers by a hairsbreadth, would have a few rows of bright red stitching to distinguish it from the next girl’s; but the knapsack looked just as it was supposed to look. Any girl was entitled to a bag to carry her kit in, surely? No one was going to think for an instant the humble canvas bag was a jikvarpam, were they now?
Silda sincerely hoped not.
The refectory began to fill as the officers of the regiment
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