Homage and Honour (51 page)

Johan breathed
several deep sighs of relief as the progress of their retreat was
reported back to Baltimalya.

It was
over.

* * * * *

Battle (4)

The Lament of
the Lind began to resound through the valley and beyond.

“
No more
shalt thee run, hunt and play,

Under the soft
warm sun of day.

He who has
died, he has gone away,

She who has
fallen, she cannot stay.

Midst trees
tall,

We mourn thee
all.

Midst mountains
high,

We for thee
sigh,

Midst rivers
fast,

We sing of
seasons past.

Midst valleys
deep,

We thy memory
keep.

Midst meadows
bare,

Thy deaths we
will share.

He who has died
has gone away,

She who has
fallen cannot stay.

Be still, mine
rtathen.”

In one of the
tented wards lay two heavily bandaged young women. Their names were
Jen and Tiffney. By their sides on the floor lay their Lind, not as
heavily bandaged.

Bored with
their enforced bed rest they began to talk and found that they had
a mutual acquaintance now deceased.

Tiffney told
Jen about the time when Jess had helped her run away from home so
that it was possible for her to find Qenei. Jen told Tiffney about
the time when Jess had arrived at Vada and about her first two
years there.

“After that I
was posted to my Ryzck,” Jen concluded. “I didn’t see her or Mlei
much after that.”

“Did she have
any family?” Tiffney enquired.

“There’s some
mystery about that,” Jen answered, “they disappeared or something,
during that first year, I never enquired. Don’t know why.”

“Strange,” said
Tiffney, her eyes fluttering as sleep claimed her.

Jen was also
dozing off.

Both Qenei and
Trnslei gave each other a knowing look.

* * * * *

Weaponsmaster
(3)

“Susyc Lynsey
and Bernei are dead and the command is now yours,” announced Ryzcka
Jilmis of the Eighteenth Ryzck to Johan.

“You are her
chosen second,” agreed Rhian.

“For the battle
yes,” he admitted, “but not I think of the Vada. I’m a tactician,
not a Susa. Not so very long ago I was a Garda officer. The job
must go to some person who knows and understands the Vada far
better than I do.”

“Who then?”
asked Ryzcka Paul of the Forty-fifth.

“Rhian and
Tadei of course,” he answered.

Jilmis and Paul
nodded as did the other surviving Ryzckas and the Vadryzkas now in
command of their Ryzcks.

“Call it a
battlefield promotion,” grinned Johan.

“I’m not ready
for this,” Rhian protested.

“Susa Lynsey
said exactly the same when she was chosen,” announced Harld,
limping towards them.

From behind the
gathering pairs Rhian heard Beth give a glad cry when she saw that
the old man had survived.

“Go on girl,
you’re the best,” Harld called out to Rhian.

She thought for
a moment and had a quick interchange of views with her Tadei and
decided to accept the command. She turned to Harld, half-annoyed,
half-amused, “okay then, Father.”

“Father?”
gasped Beth.

“Oh darn and
blast it, I didn’t mean to let that out.”

You accept?”
pressed Ryzcka Paul.

“Yes I do.”

Now as her
predecessors had done Rhian and Tadei would have to deal with what
the Lind called the ‘afterbattle’.

* * * * *

These
casualty lists are endless
, thought Rhian as Philip Ross
appeared at her tent doorway with yet another. She had come to
dread the Commanders of the different segments of the army arriving
at the door-flap of her tent. He handed her the long list of
Militia dead and wounded. Rhian glanced at it and tried not to cry
out in her dismay.

Peter Littleman
and his Lind Sarya headed the list. Tana would be upset. The two of
them had been like indulgent uncle and favourite niece.

The Garda too
had taken heavy casualties, the ‘Heavies’ especially, a full half
of the troopers and their mounts would not be returning to their
homes and families. Brigadier Halland had died of his wounds
earlier that day. When Hannah had reported his death she had told
Rhian that he had died proud of how his charge had shattered the
kohorts.

“Do you know
where General Durand is?” asked Rhian.

“Burying his
sister and Bernei,” answered Philip, “he claimed the honour.”

“It is his
right and duty,” answered Rhian mechanically.

“The grave pits
are enormous,” said Philip.

“There are many
dead,” answered the sad-faced Susa of the Vada and watched as
Philip left to go and look for Tana. She had emerged from the
battle with superficial wounds and Tavei was unhurt. Beth had not
been so lucky though she would live. She would sport a scar down
the left side of her face for the rest of her life.

Pen in hand,
she began again the process of writing to the relatives of those
who would, like Lynsey and Bernei, not be going home.

‘
Your son
Hansi and his Lind Olya fought with courage and honour in the
battle with the Larg. It is, however, my sad duty to inform you
that they died of their wounds two days later. The doctors have
assured me that they did not suffer …’

Rhian sighed
and wished that this was true. The Holad tents were packed full of
the suffering and dying.

: I may be a
soldier :
she informed Tadei
: but I
hate
war
:

Later that day
Rhian and Tadei had another visitor, the Susa of the Lindar of the
Lainei.

“We go now,” he
announced.

“Just like
that?” queried Rhian with an enquiring smile.

“We say
goodbye,” he answered. His eyes were gleaming with what Rhian
thought was a glimmer of mischief.

“I didn’t even
know your rtath existed a tenday ago,” began Rhian who was afire
with curiosity about this mysterious and colourful pack.

“That is how it
is,” he answered, again with that wicked gleam.

“Now so many
know of your existence they will try to find you,” countered Rhian.
“They will want to know. They will search for you.”

“No-one will
come looking,” he answered with confidence. “We go now.”

“Thank you for
coming,” said Rhian, the words sounding inadequate as she rose from
her chair. She executed a low bow. “It was Tadei’s and my honour to
meet you and fight with you. I would have liked to get to know you
better.”

“Our duty and
honour as well Susa Rhian. This is not the time to become better
acquainted. Perhaps we will meet again in some distant season.”

He inclined his
shaggy head and left, his paws clicking on the wooden floor.

The snowmelt
had begun and it had been found necessary to floor the command
tents and the Holad’s too. The ground was becoming, as Tana had so
accurately put it, “quagmirish in the extreme”.

Rhian turned to
Tadei.

: Well, what
do you make of that? :

: Don’t ask
questions :
he advised
: all will become clear with time
:

* * * * *

Vadrhed (Second Month of Summer) –
AL167

Aftermath
(1)

“What is it you
Vadathians say?” asked Philip, “thank the leay? I’ve heard it many
times. What is the leay?”

Tana grinned,
“Thank the Lai you mean? It’s a saying, like ‘Larg’s teeth’ or how
some of the northern sects will say ‘thank the gods’ or ‘thank the
all-highest’ when they’re happy or pleased about something. We say
‘Thank the Lai’.”

“So what is the
Lai?” pressed Philip.

Tana
considered, “the Lai, well, they are a fable, a myth. You haven’t
been here long enough to hear the Lind storytellers. It’s an old,
old story, an ancient story and part of their oral histories. I
believe Tara Sullivan wrote about it, it’ll be in one of the books
in the library at Stronghold.”

“What does it
say?”

“I never
actually read it, Tavei tells the story well and so I haven’t felt
the need but it tells of how, eons ago, fabulous flying creatures
called the Lai landed on the planet. I don’t know why they were
supposed to have come here, it’s only a fable but the Lind believe
they did and that it was the Lai who taught their distant, very
distant, ancestors how to talk. It also tells of how Lind and Larg
were once as one.”

“That I find
difficult to believe,” said Philip. “There is no comparison.”

“There may be
some truth behind it,” Tana said, “not the Lai of course but there
are genetic similarities between Lind and Larg. They can interbreed
for one thing. The Avuzdel, some of them at least, claim to have
Larg blood in their veins though they are very reticent about
speaking of it. Beth believes it is so.”

“Beth, Graham’s
daughter?”

Tana nodded.
“She and Xei are with the Fifty-first Ryzck and the Avuzdel. If
anyone knows the truth behind the rumours it would be her.”

“Does Beth say
that Lind and Larg are related?”

“Even she won’t
say much but we are close friends and she let a little slip once,
before she clammed up and told me not to ask any more
questions.”

“And the
Lai?”

“A legend, a
fable, nothing more. It can’t be true. Fabulous flying creatures! I
ask you! Someone would have seen them, stands to reason. The story
is a good one though. Next time we visit Tavei’s domta you’ll be
coming too and I’ll ask the rtath storyteller to speak it. It’s a
firm favourite.”

“I’ll look
forward to it,” said Philip. “Now to more important matters, our
Lind have gone hunting. They’ll be away for candlemarks so …”

“Bells,”
corrected Tana, nestling into his arms, “you’re a northerner now
remember?”

“I’m not
forgetting,” smiled Philip as he bent his head down towards hers.
Their lips touched with an electricity that set his whole body
tingling. Tana’s response was everything he desired that it should
be.

Philip ‘felt’
the fleeting approbation about what was developing between him and
Tana in his mind as Radnya, far away in the hunting grounds became
aware of what was happening in Tana’s daga. Then her mind-presence
disappeared. Philip knew that she and Tavei would not now return
until morning.

* * * * *

Aftermath
(2)

“Hi.”

Ruth looked up
from the kitchen table where she was working.

“Hi,” she
responded, wondering who this attractive young woman with the
scarred cheek was who stood beside her.

“Don’t you
recognise me? I’m Beth. I was the Contessa Elisabeth Graham. I
visited your farm once when you were just a little girl, My Lind is
called Xei.”

“I’m afraid I
don’t remember,” answered Ruth, “but, of course, you’re Beth!
Jess’s friend.”

“Yes, yes, I
was.”

“I wish she was
still here, it’s so different, difficult. I don’t feel I belong,
except when I’m with Andrei.”

“I miss her
too,” said Beth.

“The priests at
Court used to say that no-one really dies whilst they are
remembered,” Ruth continued, “but I never really believed that, do
you? I have so much that I wanted to tell her and now I can’t.”

“I know; I find
myself thinking the same. She would have been so proud of you.”

“I hope so.
People here don’t know I’m her sister so there’s nobody to talk to
about her. Would you?”

“Course I will,
we’ll find a quiet spot and talk soon. So how are you settling
in?”

“As I said,
it’s different. I suppose you found some things hard when you first
came?”

“Some aspects
of life here were harder than others,” agreed Beth and she pointed
at the mess that lay before Ruth on the table, wondering what had
possessed Anton to give the girl the task of filleting fish.

“It’s dreadful
isn’t it?” said a rueful Ruth as she regarded the desiccated
remains. Anything further from the neat fillets that Anton had
prepared when he had shown her how would have been hard to
find.

“What’s he
making? Fish pie?”

“I don’t think
so. I believe he intends to fill the insides with a savoury and
bake them. The fish are supposed to stay in one piece. He’s going
to be so cross with me. I’ve tried to do it but I can’t manage it,
they always seem to disintegrate when I take the bones out.”

“I’ll have a
word with him,” promised Beth, “he’s an old friend and I’ll explain
a bit about your background.”

“I suppose he
thought I’d know what I was doing. I didn’t quite like to say. I
don’t think people are supposed to know who I really am.”

“Who you are?”
exclaimed Beth in mock surprise, “why, you’re the little sister of
Jess. Here it doesn’t matter what your antecedents are. What is
important is who you are, what you do, not what you were. Anton
probably thought you were a farmer’s child, used to helping your
mother in the kitchen. (Beth was correct in her surmise) Give me
that knife and I’ll try to make some order out of the chaos.”

She took the
knife from Ruth’s unresisting hand and picked a fresh lungtrel out
of the fish-hamper. “Watch.”

Ruth watched as
Beth expertly de-boned the fish.

“First you must
cut off the head and tail then split the fish from the neck
straight down the back. Get rid of any roe, it goes in that dish
there. Now we de-bone it by running our index finger under the
backbone from the tail to the neck. See? Then we press the fillets
back together.” Under Beth’s deft fingers the prepared lungtrel was
still in one piece and looked very like the two Anton had
prepared.