Legacies (13 page)

“Lucenda!” called Veryl. “You've done enough. Come here, and sit down and eat.”

Alucius stood and pulled out the chair for his mother.

“Thank you.” Lucenda settled at the table. “It is good to sit down.” She turned to Wendra. “I'm glad to see you. Thank you for helping Alucius serve the punch and ale.”

“I enjoyed it, and I'm very glad to be here. It's so beautiful, and everyone is so friendly.”

“Beautiful it is, if in a stark and barren way,” Royalt answered. “Not the best place for those who aren't comfortable with themselves.”

“I can see that,” Wendra replied. “Grandfather is like that.”

“That's a lovely outfit,” Lucenda said.

“Mother and I made it.”

“Specially for the gathers?” asked Veryl, with a twinkle in her eyes and a lilt in her voice.

“No—just for this gather,” Wendra answered. “The last time I saw Alucius, I was working on making flour bags, and what I wore wasn't that much better than the bags.”

Alucius hid a grin at the directness of the pleasant response—and the iron beneath the gentle words.

Royalt didn't bother to hide his smile. “A young woman who knows her mind and who's pleasantly forthright!”

“And one who needs to eat,” Lucenda said firmly. “Like all of us, she's had a long day, and I imagine she's more than a little hungry.”

“I am,” Wendra admitted.

“Nothing wrong with being hungry after hard work.” Royalt nodded to Lucenda. “Good mutton rolls.”

“The lace potatoes are good,” Alucius added, wanting to keep the conversation on the food. “I always like them.”

Before all that long, supper was over—even the apple pies and the pear-cream tarts—and people began to gather on the front porch in the twilight. Alucius and Wendra sat on a bench on the north end.

“I always like it when there's singing,” Wendra said.

“I like to sing, if no one's listening. Sometimes, when I'm working alone, I'll sing, too.”

“You have a good voice, I'd wager.”

Alucius shrugged.

“Is everyone ready for some singing?” asked Royalt loudly, stepping into the middle of the porch, standing less than a yard from where Lucenda sat on the wooden chair, tuning her gitar.

“Of course we are,” Kustyl called. “We're just sitting here quiet-like to give you a chance to yell at us.”

More than a few laughed.

Royalt shook his head and nodded at Lucenda.

Holding the gitar easily, she played several chords, and then launched into a song.

When the song ended, Wendra looked at Alucius. “She sings well.”

“She always has. Her voice is truly fine.”

“You like things to be the best, don't you?”

Alucius was saved from answering that as another round of song swept over the porch.

Alucius tried to suppress a wince at the song, wondering as he did why his mother had allowed that mournful ballad to be sung.

Wendra leaned closer and whispered directly in his ear, “That bothers you, doesn't it?”

He nodded.

She reached down and squeezed his hand.

The next song was far more cheerful.

After several more songs, Alucius looked at Wendra, then glanced toward the rear door into the house.

She frowned.

He leaned forward and whispered over the singing. “I'd just like to take a walk, a few moments alone with you.”

She nodded, then whispered back, “I'll leave first. I'll meet you on the north side of the house.”

Alucius forced himself to sit and sing yet another song after Wendra left. Then, he eased himself off the bench and across the porch and into the house, as the group enthusiastically continued with another raucous favorite.

Wendra was waiting in the shadows of the house. Alucius took her hands for a moment, then offered his arm, and they began to walk westward, away from the voices and their songs. The cool wind had died into a calm that made the evening seem warmer than it was, and the faint sweet scent of blooming quarasote filled the air.

“I am glad you came.” He looked at her, taking in her face, before their eyes met, and they stopped walking.

“It's hard, isn't it?”

“Hard?”

“Trying to say what you feel, when…”

Alucius nodded, sensing both her feeling of wanting to be close to him, and not wanting to be. At least, that was what he thought she felt, but it wasn't anything like with the nightsheep—or even his family. “Feelings aren't the same as words, and when you try to say what you feel, the words aren't right, or they sound too simple…or too cold.”

“You are sweet, Alucius. Promise me…promise me you won't lose that.”

“How could I be anything but what I am?”

“I don't know, but people change.” She looked at him for a long moment. “I like you the way you are. Please promise me.”

“I promise.”

She reached out and squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

They stood silently.

“Look, Alucius.” Wendra pointed.

Alucius turned and followed her gesture. There, in the eastern purpled evening sky, Selena shone above the long rise that was Westridge. Beside the larger pearly-lighted moon was a single brilliant star.

“Isn't it just beautiful?”

“It is beautiful.” Alucius thought Wendra was even more beautiful.

Behind them, Alucius could hear that the singing had stopped. Various voices echoed into the darkening night.

“I can hear Father rounding up Korcler. He'll be calling for me,” Wendra said softly.

Alucius put his hands on her waist and looked into her eyes once more. “I'm so glad you came. It's been a wonderful day.”

“The best day of harvest.” She parted her lips slightly.

He drew her into an embrace, then kissed her, gently, barely touching her lips.

For just a moment, her arms tightened around him, and the kiss was no longer gentle. Then, she turned her head, so that they were cheek to cheek, and she whispered, “I wish we had more time.”

“So do I.”

They kissed once more, fumblingly and desperately, before Wendra eased away.

“We need to go back. I can hear Father calling.”

So had Alucius, but he had not wanted to say anything. He caught his breath, and then offered his arm. They walked slowly southward, back toward the house, the gather crowd, and the uncertain future.

In some ways, Alucius had thought things would change after the gather. Yet nothing substantial did change. He still got up before dawn and did the exercises his grandfather prescribed, and went through all the drills, and practiced with the throwing knives, sparred against Royalt with the shortsword, and grappled with the older man as well. He no longer had nearly so many bruises, and Royalt often was breathing hard when they finished. But the sessions got longer, rather than shorter, and that meant that the days were also longer.

It was the end of another too-long day, one threatening rain, when he and his grandfather guided the flock back down the western side of Westridge and toward the stead. For all of the enjoyment he'd had at the gather, even after two weeks had passed, it seemed like it had been a season, if not longer.

A mist drifted from the low clouds that were darkening more than from the twilight. The drizzling mist foreshadowed the fall—just damp and cold enough to make riding and herding uncomfortable, but without enough real moisture to improve the forage or encourage more shoots on the quarasote bushes.

“This could last,” Alucius said.

“It's the kind that does.” Royalt glanced toward the stead and the lane beyond the buildings. “There's someone riding down the lane from the main road. Looks to be Kustyl. Wonder why he's here. Best go see.” He looked to Alucius. “You can bring 'em in.”

While Royalt rode toward the other herder, Alucius guided the flock toward the shed for the night. The two were still talking when Alucius finished closing up the shed, and continued even after Alucius had stabled and groomed the gray he had ridden. So he walked toward the house, knowing that Royalt preferred his talks with Kustyl not to be interrupted—or intruded upon.

“Where is your grandsire?” called Lucenda from the kitchen as Alucius headed for the washroom after hanging up his jacket on a peg in the back hall and using the boot brush.

“He's talking to Kustyl out by the sheds.”

“Have to hold supper, then.”

Alucius could hear both his mother and grandmother chuckling.

They were both seated at the kitchen table when Alucius joined them. The big iron stove exuded a welcome warmth, and the rich scent of a spiced beef stew and the smell of biscuits filled the room.

“Might as well sit down at the table, Alucius,” suggested Lucenda. “I poured a glass of ale for you.”

“Thank you.” Alucius sat down on the side, opposite his mother, who had her chair turned so that she could get up easily. He took a slow and small swallow of the ale. “Tastes good.”

“How did they handle the weather?” asked Veryl.

“Some of them—Lamb and some of the rams—prefer the cooler weather.”

“Doesn't look like it's raining much,” Lucenda observed.

“Just a mist. We could use more, especially out toward the plateau. Not much in the way of new growth out there. Could hurt their winter coats.”

“And we'll be paying for that come spring,” Veryl pointed out.

“We might get some rain,” Alucius said. “Clouds were getting darker, even before dusk.”

“Best we hope so.”

The
thump
of a closing door announced Royalt's entering the house through the north porch door. Shortly, the three heard the sound of the hand pump in the washroom, and then Royalt walked into the kitchen.

“What did Kustyl want?” asked Lucenda.

“He was stopping by on his way back from town,” Royalt said, settling into the chair at the head of the table. “Just stopped to talk for a moment.”

“Kustyl
never
stops just to talk.” Lucenda pointed out.

“You didn't invite him for supper?” Veryl rose from the table and turned to the stove.

“Asked him. He said Mairee would have his hide if she made supper and he didn't get there to eat it. Said he was already late and too old for two suppers.” Royalt grinned. “What are we having?”

“Stew, from the beef shoulder we had last night.” Lucenda eased the basket of biscuits onto the table.

“Better than mutton.”

“Mutton's good,” Alucius said. “If we don't have it too often.”

“That's true of anything. Absence sharpens the appeal.” Royalt grinned.

Lucenda shook her head.

Veryl turned. “Alucius…if you would…Then I'll just serve from the stove. Be hotter that way.”

Alucius glanced at his grandsire, then began. “In the name of the One Who Is…”

After the supper prayer, and the serving of the stew into the big bowls, there was silence for a time, before Royalt cleared his throat and set down his big spoon. “The Reillies hit two steads south of Soulend. That's what Kustyl said.”

“How bad was it?” asked Lucenda.

“Wiped out everyone at the first. Second was ready. Lost some of their stock, but no one was hurt.”

“Do you think they'll be headed south?” Lucenda held her glass of ale without drinking.

“Kustyl doesn't think so. They wouldn't try that until they've taken the softer steads to the north, and that wouldn't be till midwinter at the earliest. They also might just move north.”

“Hard life there,” Veryl pointed out. “They'd not like that.”

“No. But the Matrites are moving into their western reaches, and we'll be raising more for the militia here. Better a hard life than none.”

“Hope for their sake they see that way,” replied Veryl.

“I'm not that charitable,” Lucenda said. “The Reillies are reaping what they've sowed.”

“That may be, daughter,” Royalt replied, “but we could get caught in that terrible harvest.”

Like his grandsire, Alucius wondered if they would. Or how long the Matrites would hold off. Another half year—or year?

As the grays pulled the wagon southward toward Iron Stem in the early summer morning, under a clear silver-green sky, Alucius looked to the west, then to the east, sending out his Talent-senses as far as he could, but he couldn't discover anything except the distant red-violet of a sander and the muted gray-violet of a sandwolf—and, of course, the looming sense of the Aerlal Plateau to the northeast, and its dead-metal feel. With not a single tree anywhere around, not until they reached Iron Stem, which had but a handful, the plateau always dominated the eastern horizon.

“Grandfather's worried,” Alucius said, his eyes still on the road ahead. “More worried than he's been in years.”

“Why do you think so?” asked his mother.

“The water barrels we're picking up. The only use for them is if we have to retreat to the armory or the hidden retreat off the cellar.”

“He wants to be prepared. In another few weeks, you'll be eighteen. Some time after that, you'll be called into the militia. He's not going to want to leave the stead as much once you're gone. He's even talked about hiring Tynan's second-oldest grandson to help.”

Alucius nodded. He understood. If his grandfather left the stead, with his grandmother's slow weakening—something Alucius could do nothing about—that left only his mother able to handle a rifle. “I worry about you and Grandfather and Grandma'am.”

“We managed before, and we can do it now,” his mother replied.

“I'm sure you can, Mother.” He offered a smile.

The road was empty of other travelers until they had almost reached the green tower before the Pleasure Palace, when four riders in the black and green of the Iron Valleys Militia rode past.

The lead rider nodded to Lucenda. “Morning, Madame Lucenda.”

“Good morning, Delar. Are you patrolling?”

“No, ma'am. We were running dispatches to the Council. We're heading back to the new outpost on the midroad west of Soulend.”

“Have a good trip.”

“Thank you, ma'am,” returned Delar.

Alucius waited until the militia riders were well behind them before speaking. “New outpost on the midroad? Grandfather didn't mention that.”

“He might not know,” she pointed out. “We can tell him when we get back.”

Even with as little experience as he had, Alucius understood what setting up new outposts meant, especially given the Council's tightness with coin. “I'm sure he'll want to know.”

Lucenda nodded, but did not speak on it more as Alucius drove toward Iron Stem.

The town itself was quiet, as if it were winter rather than early summer, with the shutters on many dwellings closed, although the late morning was pleasant enough, with a light breeze out of the southeast.

Alucius studied the stone-paved expanse of the market square. There were but a handful of carts there, far fewer than normal, even for the time of year. “There ought to be more…”

“Everyone's hoarding,” Lucenda said. “Maybe not everyone, but enough so that the growers don't have to travel north to Iron Stem.”

“Because they're worried about the Reillies and the other brigands?”

“And because the Council in Dekhron is conscripting more young men, and people worry about planting and harvesting with fewer to help.”

Alucius nodded, then turned the team to the right and eased both team and wagon into place on the side lane beside the loading dock of Kyrial's shop. He set the wagon brakes, and then jumped down and knotted the restraint lines to the stone hitching post. He turned to offer a hand to his mother, but she had already jumped down from the wagon and was waiting for him.

They walked into the cooper's shop, with its scent of freshly planed and sawed wood.

“Lucenda, Alucius! It's good to see you.” Kyrial set down a chisel and walked away from the larger workbench set against the inside wall and toward them.

Before her father could reach the two, Wendra slipped out of the back room. She gave a broad smile to Alucius, then rushed forward and hugged him. “Father said you'd be in this week. I've been watching.”

“Watching more than working at times,” commented Kyrial.

Their kiss was short—and proper. Wendra stepped back, but continued to hold Alucius's hand.

“I'd better load the barrels first,” Alucius said.

“You load the barrels, and then I'll walk over to the square and see what there is in the way of early produce. You can spend some time with your intended. Soarers know, you've not had that much together.” Lucenda smiled as she finished.

Kyrial laughed. “After that, we might get some work out of them.”

“I remember a certain cooper's apprentice and the apple barrels…” Lucenda said, teasingly.

Kyrial shook his head. “None of you will ever let that lie.”

“It's too good a tale, Kyrial, and you need to be reminded that you were young once, too.”

Alucius caught the underlying sadness behind his mother's words, understanding that—unlike the cooper—she had had her youthful love cut far too short.

“Your barrels are the ones by the door there, the ones with the smooth finish,” Kyrial said.

Alucius released Wendra's hand.

“I'll open the loading door for you,” she said.

Somehow, it didn't take Alucius all that long to load all five barrels into the back of the wagon and strap them in place. By then, his mother was crossing the square, and Kyrial was back at work on the small lorken quarter-barrel that was probably for Gortal.

The back room was empty, and Alucius followed Wendra up the stairs to the rear parlor. He glanced around the room, but it was empty, and the door to the main living quarters was closed.

Wendra smiled. “Mother's at the miller's right now, and Korcler's at Aunt Emylin's.” She slipped into his arms.

Their second embrace and kiss were considerably less than proper, for which Alucius was most grateful.

“I missed you,” Wendra whispered.

“Missed you,” he murmured back, still holding her tightly.

“Not as much as I missed you.”

“I don't know about that.”

“I can tell.” There was the slightest of laughs.

They kissed again, then hung on to each other for a long time.

Abruptly, if gently, Wendra eased out of his arms, and eased toward the window, standing before the open shutters, the faded white curtains lifting almost to touch her face in the light and intermittent breeze.

“What is it?” he asked. “Did I do something…?”

“No.” Her voice was low. “It's not you.”

“Are you sure?” Alucius didn't sense any anger, but worry…apprehension.

“It's just…it's only a few weeks before you turn eighteen, Alucius.” Wendra remained by the window. “They say…” Wendra turned from the window to face him, but her eyes did not quite meet his. “They say that all of you who turned eighteen this summer will be conscripted and sent to training a week after the beginning of harvest season.”

“Who said that?”

“Yuren's sister told me that yesterday. He's a dispatch rider for the militia now.” She paused. “What will we do?”

“What we must,” Alucius replied. “I serve my time in the militia, and you work, and serve your time, and when I get out of the militia, we get married and run a stead.”

“You…make it sound so…easy.”

He shook his head. “I didn't mean it that way. It's just…what else can we do?”

“Don't you feel trapped? It doesn't matter what we feel. It doesn't matter what we want. You have to serve in the militia, and I'll have to work and wait…and hope.”

Alucius swallowed. “I don't want to trap you. If…if you feel that way…I won't…I can't…make you wait.”

Wendra's eyes brightened. “Are you…telling me…?”

“No! I'm saying that I love you. I'm saying…that I don't have a choice, but I wouldn't want you to feel bound to me…not if you don't want to be.” He stepped forward and put his arms around her.

“You do love me, don't you?”

“I told you that, my lady. I want you to be mine, now and…until the soarers no longer fly, until the trees return to the Iron Valleys…until…”

Wendra's lips found his for another long and lingering kiss.

“Just hold me,” she finally said.

Alucius did.