The Sharing Knife - Beguilement Part 14

A rap on the door was followed by Dag"s plaintive voice: "Mari, can I please come back in now?"

Mari rolled her eyes. "All right."

Dag eased himself around the door. "How is she doing? Is she healing at all? Could you match grounds? Or do a little reinforcement, even?"

"She"s healing as well as could be expected. I did nothing with my ground, because time and rest will do the job every bit as well."

Dag took this in, seeming a bit disappointed, but resigned. "I have you a room, Spark, down one floor. Tired?"

Exhausted, she realized. She nodded.

"Well, I"ll take you down and you can start in on the resting part, leastways."

Mari rubbed her lips and studied her nephew through narrowed eyes. Groundsense. Fawn wondered what the patrol leader had seen with hers that she wasn"t saying. Did closed mouths run in the Redwing family like golden eyes? Fawn rolled up her bedroll and let Dag shoo her out.

"Don"t let Mari scare you," Dag said, letting his left arm drift along at her back, whether protectively or for subtle concealment Fawn could not tell, as they descended the stairs. They turned into the adjoining corridor.

"She didn"t, much. I liked her." Fawn took a breath. Some secrets took up too much s.p.a.ce to keep tiptoeing around. "She told me a little more about your wife, and Wolf Ridge. She thought I needed to know."

Silence stretched for three long footfalls. "She"s right."

And that, evidently, was all Fawn was going to get for now.

Fawn"s new room was narrow like Mari"s, except this one overlooked the main street instead of the stable yard. A washstand with ewer already filled, piecework curtains and a quilt in a matching pattern, and rag rugs on the floor made it fine and homey to Fawn"s eyes. A door in the side wall apparently led into the next chamber. Dag swung the bar across and shoved it down into its brackets.

"Where is your room?" Fawn asked.

Dag gestured at the closed door. "Through there."

"Oh, good. Will you take a rest? Don"t tell me you aren"t owed some healing too. I saw your bruises."

He shook his head. "I"m going out to find a harnessmaker. I"ll come back and take you down to dinner later, if you"d like."

"I"d like that fine."

He smiled a little at that and backed himself out. "Seems all I do in this place is tell folks to go to sleep."

"Yes, but I"m actually going to do it."

He grinned- that grin should be illegal that grin should be illegal-and shut the door softly.

On the wall beside the washstand hung a shaving mirror, fine flat Gla.s.sforge gla.s.s.

Reminded, Fawn slid up to it and turned down the collar of her blue dress.

The bruise masking most of the left side of her face was purple going greenish around the edges, with four dark scabs from the mud-man"s claws mounting to her cheekbone, still tender but not hot with infection. The pattern of the malice"s hand on her neck, four blots on one side and one on the other, stood out in sharp contrast to her fair skin. The marks had a peculiar black tint and an ugly raised texture unlike any other contusion Fawn had ever seen.

Well, if there was any special trick to their healing, Dag would know it. Or might have experienced it himself, if he had got close enough to as many malices as Mari"s inventory of his past knives suggested.

Fawn went to the window and just caught a glimpse of Dag"s tall form pa.s.sing below, arm harness tossed over his shoulder, striding up the street toward the town square. She gazed out at Gla.s.sforge after he"d made his way out of sight along the boardwalk, but not for long; yawning uncontrollably, she slipped off her dress and shoes and crawled into the bed.

Chapter 10.

Dag returned at dinnertime as promised. Fawn had put on her good dress, the green cotton that her aunt Nattie had spun and woven; she followed him downstairs. The raucous noises coming out of the room where they"d eaten their quiet lunch gave her pause.

Seeing her hesitate, Dag smiled and bent his head to murmur, "Patrollers can be a rowdy bunch when we all get together, but you"ll be all right. You don"t have to answer any questions you don"t want. We can make out you"re still too shaken by our fight with the malice and don"t want to talk about it. They"ll accept that." His hand drifted to her collar as if to arrange it more tidily, and Fawn realized he was not covering up the strange marks on her neck, but rather, making sure they showed. "I think we don"t need to mention what happened with the second knife to anyone besides Mari."

"Good," said Fawn, relieved, and allowed him to take her in, his arm protective at her back.

The tables this evening were indeed full of tall, alarming patrollers, twenty-five or so, variously layered with road dirt. Given Dag"s warning, Fawn managed not to jump when their entrance was greeted with whoops, cheers, table pounding, and flying jibes about Dag"s three-day vanis.h.i.+ng. The roughness of some of the jests was undercut by the real joy in the voices, and Dag, smiling crookedly, gave back: "Some trackers! I swear you lot couldn"t find a drink in a rain barrel!"

"Beer barrel, Dag!" someone hooted in return. "What"s wrong with you?"

Dag surveyed the room and guided Fawn toward a square table on the far side where only two patrollers sat, the Utau and Razi she"d met earlier. The two waved encouragement as they approached, and Razi shoved out a spare chair invitingly with his boot.

Fawn was not sure which patrollers were Mari"s and which were Chato"s; the two patrols seemed to be mingled, not quite at random. Any sorting seemed to be more by age, as there was one table with half a dozen gray heads at it, including Mari; also two other older women Fawn had not seen at the well-house, so presumably from the Log Hollow patrol. The young woman with her arm in the sling was at a table with three young men, all vying to cut her meat for her; she was presently holding them off with jabs of her fork and laughing. The men patrollers seemed all ages, but the women were only young or much older, Fawn noticed, and remembered Mari"s account of her life"s course. In the home camps would the proportions be reversed?

Breathless serving maids and boys weaved among the tables lugging trays laden with platters and pitchers, rapidly relieved by reaching hands. The patrollers seemed more interested in speed and quant.i.ty than in decorum, an att.i.tude shared with farmhouse kitchens that made Fawn feel nearly comfortable.

They sat and exchanged greetings with Razi and Utau; Razi leaped up and acquired more plates, cutlery, and gla.s.ses, and both united to snag pa.s.sing food and drink to fill them. They did ply Dag with questions about his adventures although, with cautious glances, spared Fawn. His answers were either unexcitingly factual, vague, or took the form that Fawn recognized from the Horsefords" table of effectively diverting counterquestions. They finally desisted and let Dag catch up with his chewing.

Utau glanced around the room, and remarked, "Everyone"s a lot happier tonight. Especially Mari. Fortunately for all of us downstream of her."

Razi said wistfully, "Do you suppose she and Chato will let us all have a bow-down before we go back out?"

"Chato looks pretty cheerful," said Utau, nodding across the room at another table of patrollers, although which was the leader Fawn could not tell. "We might get lucky."

"What"s a bow-down?" asked Fawn.

Razi smiled eagerly. "It"s a party, patroller-style. They happen sometimes, to celebrate a kill, or when two or more patrols chance to get together. Having another patrol to talk to is a treat.

Not that we don"t all love one another"-Utau rolled his eyes at this-"but weeks on end of our own company can get pretty old. A bow-down has music. Dancing. Beer if we can get it..."

"We could get lots of beer, here," Utau observed distantly.

"Lingerrrring in dark corners-" Razi trilled, catching up the tail of his braid and twirling it.

"Enough-she gets the idea," said Dag, but he smiled. Fawn wondered if it was in memory.

"Could happen, but I guarantee it won"t be till Mari thinks the cleanup is all done. Or as done as it ever gets." His eye was caught by something over Fawn"s shoulder. "I feel prophetic. I predict ch.o.r.es before cheer."

"Dag, you"re such a morbid crow-" Razi began.

"Well, gentlemen," said Mari"s voice. "Do your feet hurt?"

Fawn turned her head and smiled diffidently at the patrol leader, who had drifted up to their table.

Razi opened his mouth, but Dag cut in, "Don"t answer that, Razi. It"s a trick question. The safe response is, "I can"t say, Mari, but why do you ask?" "

Mari"s lips twitched, and she returned in a sugary voice, "I"m so so glad you asked that question, Dag!" glad you asked that question, Dag!"

"Maybe not so safe," murmured Utau, grinning.

"How"s the arm-harness repair coming?" Mari continued to Dag.

Dag grimaced. "Done tomorrow afternoon, maybe. I had to stop at two places before I found one that would do it for free. Or rather, in exchange for us saving his life, family, town, territory, and everyone in it."

Utau said dryly, "Naturally, you forgot to mention it was you personally who took their malice down."

Dag shrugged this off in irritation. "Firstly, that wasn"t so. Secondly, none of us could do the job without the rest of us, so all are owed. I shouldn"t... none of us should have to beg beg."

"It so happens," said Mari, letting this slide by, "that I have a sitting-down job for a one-handed man tomorrow morning. In the storeroom here is a trunkful of patrol logs and maps for this region that need a good going-over. The usual. I want someone with an eye for it to see if we can figure how this malice slipped through, and stop up the crack in future. Also, I want a listing of the nearby sectors that have been especially neglected. We"re going to stay here a few extra days while the injured recover, and to repair gear and furbish up."

Utau and Razi both brightened at this news.

"We"ll do some local search-pattern catch-up at the same time," Mari continued. "And let the Gla.s.sforge folk see us doing so," she added, with dour emphasis and a nod at Dag. "Give "em a show."

Dag snorted. "Better we should offer them double their blight bogles back if they"re not happy with our work."

Razi choked on the beer he was just swallowing, and Utau kindly if unhelpfully thumped his back. "Oh, how I wish we could!" Razi wheezed when he"d caught his breath again. "Love to see the looks on their stupid farmer faces, just once!"

Fawn congealed, her beginning ease and enjoyment of the patrollers" banter abruptly quenched. Dag stiffened.

Mari cast them both an enigmatic look, but moved off without comment, and Fawn remembered their exchange earlier on the universal nature of loutishness. So So.

Razi burbled on obliviously, "Patrolling out of Gla.s.sforge is like a holiday. Sure, you ride all day, but when you come back there are real beds. Real baths! Food you don"t have to fix, not burned over a campfire. Little comforts to bargain for up in the town."

"And yet farmers built this place," Fawn murmured, and she was sure by his wince that Dag heard clearly the missing stupid stupid she"d clipped out. she"d clipped out.

Razi shrugged. "Farmers plant crops, but who planted farmers? We did."

What? Fawn thought.

Utau, perhaps not quite as oblivious as his comrade, glanced at her, and countered, "You mean our ancestors did. Pretty broad claim of credit, there."

"Why shouldn"t we get the credit?" said Razi.

"And the blame as well?" said Dag.

Razi made a face. "I thought we did. Fair"s fair."

Dag smiled tightly, drew a breath, and pushed himself up. "Well. If I"m to spend tomorrow peering at a bunch of ill-penned, misspelled, and undoubtedly incomplete patrol logs, I"d better get my eyes some rest now. If everyone else is as short on sleep as I am, it"ll be a good quiet night for catching up."

"Find us lots of local patrols, Dag," urged Razi. "Weeks' worth." worth."

"I"ll see what I can do."

Fawn rose too, and Dag shepherded her out. He made no attempt to apologize for Razi, but an odd look darkened his eyes, and Fawn did not like her sense of his thoughts receding to someplace barred to her. Outside, the late-summer dusk was closing in. He bade her good night at her door with studied courtesy.

The next morning Dag woke at dawn, but Fawn, to his approval, still slept. He went quietly downstairs and nabbed two patrollers from their breakfast to lug the records trunk upstairs to his room. In a short time he had logs, maps, and charts spread out on the room"s writing table, bed, and, soon after, the floor.

He heard the m.u.f.fled creak of the bed and Fawn"s footsteps through the adjoining wall as she finally arose and rattled around her room getting dressed. At length, she poked her head cautiously around the frame of his door open to the hall, and he jumped up to escort her down to a breakfast much quieter than last night"s dinner, as a last few sleepy patrollers drifted out singly or in pairs.

After the meal, she followed him back upstairs to stare with interest at the paper and parchment drifting across his room. "Can I help?"

He remembered her susceptibility to boredom and itchy hands, but mostly he heard the underlying, Can I stay Can I stay? He obligingly set her to mending pens, or fetching a paper or logbook from across the room from time to time-make-work, but it kept her quietly occupied and pleasantly near. She grew fascinated with the maps, charts, and logs, and fell to reading them, or trying to. It was not just the faded and often questionable handwriting that made this a slow process for her. Her claim to be able to read proved true, but it was plain from her moving finger and lips and the tension in her body that she was not fluent, probably due to never having had enough text to practice on. But when he scratched out a grid on a fresh sheet to turn the muddled log entries into a record visible at a glance, she followed the logic swiftly enough.

Around noon, Mari appeared in the open doorway. She raised an eyebrow at Fawn, perched on the bed poring over a contour map annotated with hand corrections, but said only, "How goes it?"

"Almost done," said Dag. "There is no point going back more than ten years, I think. Quiet around here this morning. What are folks up to?"

"Mending, cleaning gear, gone uptown. Working with the horses. We found a blacksmith whose sister was among those we rescued from the mine, who"s been very willing to help out in the stable." She wandered in and peered over his shoulder, then leaned back against the wall with her arms folded. "So. How did this malice slip past us?"

Dag tapped his grid, laid out on the table before him. "That section was last walked three years ago by a patrol from Hope Lake Camp. They were trying to run a sixteen-man pattern with just thirteen. Three short. Because if they"d dropped it down to a twelve-pattern, they"d have had to make two more pa.s.ses to clear the area, and they were already three weeks behind schedule for the season. Even so, there"s no telling they missed anything; that malice might well not have been hatched out yet."

"I"m not looking to lay blame," said Mari mildly.

"I know." Dag sighed. "Now, as for neglected sections..." His lips peeled back in a dry smile. "That was more revealing. Turns out all sections within a day"s ride of Gla.s.sforge that can be patrolled from horseback are up-to-date, or as up-to-date as anything, meaning no more than a year overdue. What"s left are some swampy areas to the west and rocky ravines to the east that you can"t take a horse through." He added reflectively, "Lazy whelps."

Mari smiled sourly. "I see." She scratched her nose. "Chato and I figured he"d lend me two men, and we"d both send out sixteen-groups, dividing up the neglected sections between us.

He and I are both going to be stuck here arguing with Gla.s.sforgers about what we"re due for our recent work on their behalf, so I"d thought to put you in charge of our patrol. Give you first pick of sections, though."

"You"re so sweet, Mari. Waist-deep wading through smelly muck, with leeches, or sudden falls onto sharp rocks? They both sound so charming, I don"t know how I can decide."

"Alternatively, you can roll up your sleeves and come help me arm wrestle with Gla.s.sforgers.

That works exceptionally well, I"ve noticed."

Fawn, who had set down the map and was following the talk closely, blinked at this.

Dag grimaced in distaste. In his list of personal joys, parading their wounded to shame farmers into pitching in ranked well below frolicking with leeches and barely above lancing oozing saddle boils. "I swore the last time I put on that show for you, it would be the last."

He added after a reflective moment, "And the time before. You have no shame, Mari."

"I have no resources resources," she returned, her face twisting in frustration. "Fairbolt once figured it takes at least ten folks back in the camps, not counting the children, to support one patroller in the field. Every bit of help we fail to pull in from outside puts us that bit more behind."

"Then why don"t we pull in more? Isn"t that why farmers were planted in the first place?"

The argument was an old one, and Dag still didn"t know the right answer.

"Shall we become lords again?" said Mari softly. "I think not."