in Amon’s ear. “If Micah had been down at the gate —” She didn’t finish.
Amon nodded. “Thank the Maker that Barlow has no love of wizards.”
“What about the Waterwalkers?” Raisa asked. “Was he just trying to scare us?”
Amon shook his head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense, what he said.” He turned away from Raisa and called, “Hey, Garret, ride ahead and check out the road, see if what Sergeant Barlow says is true.”
“Aye, Corporal Byrne,” Garret said, touching his heels to his pony’s sides.
“When can a soldier disobey an order?” Raisa asked.
Amon drew his dark brows together and tilted his head back, looking down his nose at her. “Why do you want to know?”
“I want to know what to expect from my guard in the future.”
“Well, soldiers are taught two important rules. One is that you obey orders, even those you don’t like, even those you disagree with. If you don’t, it’s insubordination. The other is that following orders is no excuse for doing wrong or wasting soldiers’ lives needlessly. A good soldier is a thinking person.”
Raisa blinked at him. “But — isn’t that contradictory?”
Amon nodded. “It’s the soldier’s dilemma. Most of the time it’s simple enough. If your commander tells you to clean the latrine, you do it, even though you don’t want to. If your commander tells you and your salvo to lead the charge, you do it, even though you’re afraid. If she tells you to retreat, you leave the field, even if your blood’s up.”
Raisa nodded, nudging Switcher in close. “When can you say no?”
“If you disobey an order, you’d better have a good reason. Lots of times you have to make that decision in a heartbeat. That’s the problem with the guard these days. Too many soldiers don’t know the difference between right and wrong.”
Raisa put her hand on Amon’s knee. His leg was all muscle and bone under the camouflage twill, and she felt the usual current of energy between them. “Do you feel that you know right from wrong?” she asked.
“I do,” Amon said, looking down at her hand. “My da made sure of it.” He said this with such intensity that it stopped Raisa’s mouth and she waited. After a pause, he went on. “But it’s not enough to know right from wrong. You need the strength to do what’s right, even when what you want most in the world is the wrong thing.”
With that, he urged his horse forward, breaking contact with Raisa’s hand.
A mile or so farther on, Raisa became aware of a sound: a dull, sullen roar that grew louder as they traveled forward.
While they’d been talking, the others had gotten ahead of them. Mick rode back toward them. “It’s the Dyrnnewater Cascades, sir. Careful. We’re nearly on top of them.”
It wasn’t like you could come up on them unwarned. Ahead, a freezing white mist obscured the trail. As they rode into it, Raisa’s skin pebbled and her hair clumped down in wet strings. Water dripped from the end of her nose. Amon turned up the collar of his uniform jacket and raked wet black hair off his forehead.
Now that they were crowded in close to the river, Raisa could smell the faint but familiar stench of the city of her birth. She wrinkled her nose.
A low wall enclosed the road to either side. Ahead, the river split around several large rocky islands and foamed through a series of violent rapids as they neared the escarpment. Switcher became skittish, dancing nervously and tossing her head.
At that point, the new road veered off to the east, descending in a series of switchbacks toward the valley floor. The old road continued straight on, following the river. It was hardly more than a rocky path.
Garret waited at the split. “It’s true, sir. The new road’s impassable. Road’s smashed up less than a mile ahead.”
Now what? Raisa thought. Would they have to go back by way of Westgate, past Micah Bayar again? Maybe this time they wouldn’t be so lucky.
“Guess
Amon nodded. “Thank the Maker that Barlow has no love of wizards.”
“What about the Waterwalkers?” Raisa asked. “Was he just trying to scare us?”
Amon shook his head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense, what he said.” He turned away from Raisa and called, “Hey, Garret, ride ahead and check out the road, see if what Sergeant Barlow says is true.”
“Aye, Corporal Byrne,” Garret said, touching his heels to his pony’s sides.
“When can a soldier disobey an order?” Raisa asked.
Amon drew his dark brows together and tilted his head back, looking down his nose at her. “Why do you want to know?”
“I want to know what to expect from my guard in the future.”
“Well, soldiers are taught two important rules. One is that you obey orders, even those you don’t like, even those you disagree with. If you don’t, it’s insubordination. The other is that following orders is no excuse for doing wrong or wasting soldiers’ lives needlessly. A good soldier is a thinking person.”
Raisa blinked at him. “But — isn’t that contradictory?”
Amon nodded. “It’s the soldier’s dilemma. Most of the time it’s simple enough. If your commander tells you to clean the latrine, you do it, even though you don’t want to. If your commander tells you and your salvo to lead the charge, you do it, even though you’re afraid. If she tells you to retreat, you leave the field, even if your blood’s up.”
Raisa nodded, nudging Switcher in close. “When can you say no?”
“If you disobey an order, you’d better have a good reason. Lots of times you have to make that decision in a heartbeat. That’s the problem with the guard these days. Too many soldiers don’t know the difference between right and wrong.”
Raisa put her hand on Amon’s knee. His leg was all muscle and bone under the camouflage twill, and she felt the usual current of energy between them. “Do you feel that you know right from wrong?” she asked.
“I do,” Amon said, looking down at her hand. “My da made sure of it.” He said this with such intensity that it stopped Raisa’s mouth and she waited. After a pause, he went on. “But it’s not enough to know right from wrong. You need the strength to do what’s right, even when what you want most in the world is the wrong thing.”
With that, he urged his horse forward, breaking contact with Raisa’s hand.
A mile or so farther on, Raisa became aware of a sound: a dull, sullen roar that grew louder as they traveled forward.
While they’d been talking, the others had gotten ahead of them. Mick rode back toward them. “It’s the Dyrnnewater Cascades, sir. Careful. We’re nearly on top of them.”
It wasn’t like you could come up on them unwarned. Ahead, a freezing white mist obscured the trail. As they rode into it, Raisa’s skin pebbled and her hair clumped down in wet strings. Water dripped from the end of her nose. Amon turned up the collar of his uniform jacket and raked wet black hair off his forehead.
Now that they were crowded in close to the river, Raisa could smell the faint but familiar stench of the city of her birth. She wrinkled her nose.
A low wall enclosed the road to either side. Ahead, the river split around several large rocky islands and foamed through a series of violent rapids as they neared the escarpment. Switcher became skittish, dancing nervously and tossing her head.
At that point, the new road veered off to the east, descending in a series of switchbacks toward the valley floor. The old road continued straight on, following the river. It was hardly more than a rocky path.
Garret waited at the split. “It’s true, sir. The new road’s impassable. Road’s smashed up less than a mile ahead.”
Now what? Raisa thought. Would they have to go back by way of Westgate, past Micah Bayar again? Maybe this time they wouldn’t be so lucky.
“Guess
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