happened?
he thought, dazed and unresisting amid the painted faces grim or grinning.
How the hell did I go to sleep with an enemy patrol all around me? Please tell me
I’m not that much of a noob screwup, God. Or . . . did she do something to me?
That was almost as scary as the arrowheads, more so if you thought about it for a
minute. Pilot Officer Alyssa Larsson
was
snickering now. The Clan warriors took the tension off their bows, though several
kept their arrows on the string until he’d been quickly and expertly searched. There
were a few happy chortles and whoops as they found and appropriated the more handy
items in his light field pack as well as his stash of silver coins.
Yeah, OK, you’re happy,
he thought with resigned irritation.
That was one of the perks of capturing someone; everyone knew the (unofficial) rules.
They left him his sleeping bag and some of the really essential gear, and conscientiously
returned the personal letters and family pictures after a glance to make sure what
they were, which meant they
were
playing by the rules. His paybook, map and the other official documents went into
a sack. Alyssa took back the map, papers, knife and compass he’d appropriated from
her.
The wad of green paper money they tossed back with a jocular suggestion that when
it ran out he could just use leaves and grass like anybody else. They had a point,
with the way prices had gone haywire since the President bought it at the Horse Heaven
Hills. His last letter from home had cautiously mentioned that people were
swapping a lot again
, which said volumes in a way the censor couldn’t object to.
“Merry meet,” Alyssa said to the Mackenzies.
The senior archer looked at her, the splinted arm and the spectacular and now colorful
bruises on her face, then back at Cole. His eyes narrowed.
“Merry meet, and merry part again, Lady Alyssa,” he said. “Now, would you want the
whole corp of this one to come back with you still walking upon the ridge of the earth,
or just the ugly head of him in a bag, to be pickled in cedar-oil and nailed above
your door?”
Alyssa chuckled. Cole didn’t think the suggestion was funny at all, and decided he
disliked her sense of humor. Despite her lack of accent she seemed to know a fair
bit about Mackenzies.
“No, he’s been a perfect gentleman, Sèitheach,” she said. “Strictly according to the
laws of honorable war.”
He nodded and took the hand off his swordhilt and looked grimly at Cole, who was trying
hard to hide his relief.
“Well, and doesn’t that demonstrate the Law of Threefold Return, boyo?” he said. To
Alyssa: “Where’s your machine?”
“Twenty-odd miles that way, most of it up and down, as of three days ago,” she said,
pointing northeastward. “What’s left of it, which isn’t much. Thought I could catch
an updraft but hit still air instead and I used a couple of trees and a boulder as
a landing strip. He came along while I was still dizzy. I’d have been in a really
bad way otherwise. I was upside down and couldn’t get at the belts because of the
arm and there was a grizzly sniffing around and I don’t think it was on my side. I’m
a Bearkiller, after all!”
“What happened to the bear?”
“We ate some of it.”
She cocked an eye at Cole. “He put two bolts into it and then took off like a squirrel.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man run up a rock face so fast. Then he shot it dead
while it was trying to climb up and get him.”
“More of them?” the blond archer said.
He ignored chuckles from his followers. Several of them nodded respectfully at Cole,
and a few even murmured something like
bravely done
, but the Boisean’s snap judgment was that their commander was a notable hardcase.
“He didn’t say, but from the way he acted no, not within a couple of days’ travel
minimum. Be careful with him. He knows his way around the woods and he’s quick.
he thought, dazed and unresisting amid the painted faces grim or grinning.
How the hell did I go to sleep with an enemy patrol all around me? Please tell me
I’m not that much of a noob screwup, God. Or . . . did she do something to me?
That was almost as scary as the arrowheads, more so if you thought about it for a
minute. Pilot Officer Alyssa Larsson
was
snickering now. The Clan warriors took the tension off their bows, though several
kept their arrows on the string until he’d been quickly and expertly searched. There
were a few happy chortles and whoops as they found and appropriated the more handy
items in his light field pack as well as his stash of silver coins.
Yeah, OK, you’re happy,
he thought with resigned irritation.
That was one of the perks of capturing someone; everyone knew the (unofficial) rules.
They left him his sleeping bag and some of the really essential gear, and conscientiously
returned the personal letters and family pictures after a glance to make sure what
they were, which meant they
were
playing by the rules. His paybook, map and the other official documents went into
a sack. Alyssa took back the map, papers, knife and compass he’d appropriated from
her.
The wad of green paper money they tossed back with a jocular suggestion that when
it ran out he could just use leaves and grass like anybody else. They had a point,
with the way prices had gone haywire since the President bought it at the Horse Heaven
Hills. His last letter from home had cautiously mentioned that people were
swapping a lot again
, which said volumes in a way the censor couldn’t object to.
“Merry meet,” Alyssa said to the Mackenzies.
The senior archer looked at her, the splinted arm and the spectacular and now colorful
bruises on her face, then back at Cole. His eyes narrowed.
“Merry meet, and merry part again, Lady Alyssa,” he said. “Now, would you want the
whole corp of this one to come back with you still walking upon the ridge of the earth,
or just the ugly head of him in a bag, to be pickled in cedar-oil and nailed above
your door?”
Alyssa chuckled. Cole didn’t think the suggestion was funny at all, and decided he
disliked her sense of humor. Despite her lack of accent she seemed to know a fair
bit about Mackenzies.
“No, he’s been a perfect gentleman, Sèitheach,” she said. “Strictly according to the
laws of honorable war.”
He nodded and took the hand off his swordhilt and looked grimly at Cole, who was trying
hard to hide his relief.
“Well, and doesn’t that demonstrate the Law of Threefold Return, boyo?” he said. To
Alyssa: “Where’s your machine?”
“Twenty-odd miles that way, most of it up and down, as of three days ago,” she said,
pointing northeastward. “What’s left of it, which isn’t much. Thought I could catch
an updraft but hit still air instead and I used a couple of trees and a boulder as
a landing strip. He came along while I was still dizzy. I’d have been in a really
bad way otherwise. I was upside down and couldn’t get at the belts because of the
arm and there was a grizzly sniffing around and I don’t think it was on my side. I’m
a Bearkiller, after all!”
“What happened to the bear?”
“We ate some of it.”
She cocked an eye at Cole. “He put two bolts into it and then took off like a squirrel.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man run up a rock face so fast. Then he shot it dead
while it was trying to climb up and get him.”
“More of them?” the blond archer said.
He ignored chuckles from his followers. Several of them nodded respectfully at Cole,
and a few even murmured something like
bravely done
, but the Boisean’s snap judgment was that their commander was a notable hardcase.
“He didn’t say, but from the way he acted no, not within a couple of days’ travel
minimum. Be careful with him. He knows his way around the woods and he’s quick.
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