Legacies (18 page)

“Look at you! You look handsome in that uniform. Recalls your grandsire to me. You look so much like he did then.”

Royalt shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “We are related, dear. Be a shame if we didn't look a bit alike.”

Veryl laughed. “There you go again.”

“Can I help with anything?” Alucius asked.

“Wendra can help me,” Lucenda said firmly. “We'll need a glass to get supper ready. If you're really starving, there are some biscuits from breakfast that you could have.”

“I think I'll be fine.” Alucius understood the unspoken—that he needed to spend the time with his grandmother. Just a cursory sensing with his Talent told him that she might not last much beyond winter. He couldn't help but wonder if it were his fault—something he had done when he had tried to heal her so many years before.

Royalt, standing behind Veryl, caught Alucius's eye. Royalt shook his head to the younger man's unspoken question. At least, Alucius thought his grandfather was answering his question, but he'd have to see later when he could talk to Royalt alone.

Wendra glanced from Royalt to Alucius, a faintly puzzled expression appearing and then vanishing as she moved toward the kitchen.

“Come on, Wendra,” Lucenda said. “He's probably starving, but he wouldn't admit it if he fell over in a dead faint.”

Alucius offered a wry grin. He was hungry, and the food at the training camp had been filling, and little more. He took one of the straight-backed chairs from against the wall and set it down across from his grandmother, and then sat down. Royalt sat on the side of the couch nearest to his wife.

“We hoped the weather wouldn't keep you,” Veryl began. “Soarers! It's so good to see you. Royalt, he said you'd be fine, but you never know…you just never know, not in these days.”

“The days were long, and they kept us busy. I learned a few things, but it wasn't as hard physically as herding. We rode enough that I didn't get out of shape that way.” Alucius grinned. “I am looking forward to a good meal. The food wasn't anything to talk about, except that there was enough.” He paused. “I met a fellow named Kypler. His family has the sawmill in Wesrigg.” Alucius looked at Royalt. “Do you know them?”

“His grandsire was Byaler. Spent some time in the militia with me. Good man, as I recall. They provided the beams for the new processing shed. Good timber, fair price.”

Alucius wanted to smile. The “new” processing shed was older than he was.

“Delar suggested you might be going where he is,” Royalt offered. “Said he wasn't sure, but might be likely.”

Alucius laughed. “He'll be my squad leader…” As he glanced toward the kitchen and caught a smile from Wendra, he went on to explain, hoping it wouldn't be that long before dinner.

At supper, Alucius ate far too much of the mutton stew, but the meal was the best set in front of him since before he had been conscripted. Even the dried sweet melon slices tasted wonderful, and he had two large mugs of the good weak ale. Once they had moved into the great room, he felt comfortable and happy, sitting on the worn brown couch with Wendra beside him.

“…think the southerners are worried about the raids, wanted more of the nightsilk for next year,” Lucenda said. “Anyway, that's why we've been busy, and why Wendra is such a help.” She looked up as Royalt re-entered the room. “How is Mother?”

“She's just tired.” Royalt looked at his grandson. “I can tell you've missed good food.”

“That's true,” Alucius replied. He inclined his head toward the back hallway. “She gets tired easily, doesn't she? Grandma'am, I meant.”

Lucenda nodded. “Her spirits are good, but the days are often long for her. I can remember when she could handle every spinneret in the processing shed, all at once.”

“We all get old,” Royalt said. “I couldn't keep up with what Alucius just went through.”

Alucius laughed. “I got through it because of what you put me through, and that was harder than what the militia put me through. Don't talk to me about your growing weaker.”

Royalt smiled back, not quite ruefully. “Let's say that I can do almost anything I once could, but it takes me three times as long to recover. And I need more sleep. A lot more.” He offered a huge yawn. “Best I'd be getting to bed.”

Alucius almost flushed. His grandsire wasn't that tired, although his grandmother had been ready to retire far earlier than she had.

“So should I,” added Lucenda rising from her chair. “You two shouldn't stay up too late, because Wendra does need to help me tomorrow, and your grandsire could use a little help as well. After your own trip, a good night's sleep wouldn't hurt you, either.”

“We won't stay up too long,” Wendra promised.

Alucius wasn't about to promise an immediate retirement to the loft by himself, not with Wendra clearly headed for the guest bed at the other end of the house. So he just smiled.

“Listen to the young woman,” Lucenda told her son.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“He does listen,” Wendra said. She turned to him and, after Lucenda had headed down the hallway, whispered in his ear. “You don't always obey.”

Alucius slipped both arms around her. “I missed you.”

“I can tell.”

They shared a long kiss before Wendra eased away. “I'll be here for a few days. It's not like we have but a few moments. Talk to me.”

Alucius could feel…many things churning inside Wendra. Not fear, but apprehension mixed with both warmth and, he was happy to sense, strong attraction. “About what?”

“Anything…just talk to me.” Her hand touched his cheek. “We have time.”

Not so much as she thought, Alucius feared. “Was it all right with your family for you to come out here?”

“I think they worry a little. If your grandfather weren't such a close friend of the family, and especially of Grandfather Kustyl…it might be different.” Wendra looked down.

“And coin is short?” Alucius said gently, easing back slightly so that he had just one arm around her shoulders.

“It's been a hard fall. Winter will be worse. Grandfather Kustyl can't help as much because the stead has to support him and Grandma'am Mairee and Uncle Tylal and his family.”

“Kyrtus and Jaff are already in the militia.”

“Jaff has two years before his term's up. He's down in Rivercliff now. Kyrtus is in Emal. Father said they try not to put brothers in the same place.”

“Is Kyrtus still jealous?” Alucius laughed.

Wendra flushed. “He's a nice cousin. He just…” She shook her head. “He wanted to be more than a cousin and a friend, and that…it wouldn't work.”

“Does
he
know that?” Alucius teased.

“Uncle Tylal made it clear, and Kyrtus apologized.” Wendra grinned. “He did ask me to let him know if you didn't treat me right.”

“Does everyone in the Iron Valleys know?” Alucius offered with mock-indignation.

Wendra cocked her head to the side, then offered in equal mockery, “I don't think the folk in Emal or Wesrigg know.”

Alucius laughed once more, enjoying the moment.

Wendra bent forward and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

He smiled. “You're welcome.” After a moment, he asked, “How do you like the stead?”

“I love it. I love the space, and the open skies, and the air. And your family is so good to me. They make me feel like the intended of a Duarch.” She blushed. “I suppose, in a way…”

“We're herders, nothing more, and it's hard work,” Alucius pointed out. “You've seen that, not just here, but at your grandfather's.”

A slightly pensive look crossed Wendra's face. “I worry…about you.”

“I'll be fine.”

“I'm young, Alucius. But I'm not stupid. People everywhere are worried. Father said that they're conscripting as many men as they can. Gortal is shipping wagons south to Dekhron, and that's just across the river from Lanachrona. The Council has ordered all sorts of supplies, and Father said they don't do that in the fall unless they don't think they can get them later.”

“He's probably right about that,” Alucius admitted.

“So…I can be worried about you.”

“I'm glad that you are.” He ran his fingertips along the line of her jaw, feeling the incredible smoothness of her skin. “And I'm glad that you're here.”

“So am I.”

The kiss was long and gentle, lingering, and Alucius held her tightly, wishing he could do more, and knowing, both within and from what he sensed, that to do more would destroy what he needed most from Wendra.

But he could savor the kisses and the embrace, and even the words they shared.

Alucius and Royalt rode about three yards apart as they urged the nightsheep east over the middle of Westridge in the silvered light that had followed a cloudy dawn and promised an iron-bitter morning. To the northeast, only the lower part of the Aerlal Plateau was visible below the low and misty clouds. Alucius probably could have stayed at the stead, but his mother did need Wendra's help, without Alucius distracting them. Alucius also wanted a chance to talk to his grandsire without anyone else around.

Although the air was chill, it was still, and without any wind, the morning felt warmer than it was. The nightsheep were calm. Alucius couldn't sense either sanders or sandwolves, but hoped that wasn't because he had gotten out of touch with the land. Then, he could sense the faint bluish gray of the grayjays, and they were harder to Talent-sense than sanders.

Once they crossed the ridge and headed downhill, and Alucius was fairly certain no predators were near, he eased his mount closer to that of his grandsire.

“Sir?”

“Yes, Alucius. What did you want to talk about?”

“How…?”

“Been obvious since you got home. Also, I was once young, and I recall feeling the same way when I first came home on furlough.”

Alucius wondered how transparent he was. Like a window? Or was he translucent like quartz? Or was his grandsire just guessing based on Alucius's reactions and expressions? “You know what happened years ago…when Grandma'am was so sick?” He knew that Royalt had suggested an answer when Alucius had first arrived home, but Alucius wanted some reassurance.

“I recall.” Royalt's voice was even.

“Did…I do something wrong then?”

The older man smiled sadly. “No. She would have died then. What you did—I think—partly borrowed from the rest of her body. You'll recall that she was never quite as strong as before. Healing, like everything, has a price. You might be able to have done more if you had been older, because an adult has more strength, but no one else could have done anything, and she would have died then. You gave us more than ten years together that we would not have had.”

“I wish I could have done more.”

“You did more than enough. You don't think I didn't feel helpless, that I don't now? She may not last the winter, certainly not more than two. You know that. She knows, too. You did what you could do. You have more of the Talent than I do. You also think through things more, at least when you want to. Haven't been able to beat you at leschec in close to ten years. The Talent's been obvious since you were a toddler. I still remember you taking on that ram—you couldn't have been more than four. Then Lamb…you were right about him. One of the best lead rams I've ever had. He listens to me, but he tells you things, doesn't he?”

“Sometimes,” Alucius admitted. “I didn't try to save him for that. I didn't know. I just didn't want him to die.”

Royalt shook his head. “Doesn't matter. You did what you felt was right. Listen to what you feel. What you
feel
, deep down inside, not what you
want
. Biggest challenge a man or woman with Talent has is to understand the difference between those two.”

Thinking of the night before, with Wendra, Alucius managed not to blush. Still, he'd followed his feelings, not his desires.

They rode in silence for a time.

The younger herder studied the quarasote, taking in the graying of the fourth year plants that had seeded and would soon die, checking the land to the east, making sure that the outliers in the flock were not too far out. The lead rams remained quiet, always a good sign, but not necessarily always a complete measure of the flock's safety.

Royalt cleared his throat.

Alucius turned in the saddle. “Yes, sir?”

“You're militia cavalry now, Alucius. There are a few more things I want you to think about…in addition to the young woman—beautiful as she is.” Royalt's tone was dry.

Alucius grinned. “Yes, sir.”

“The first thing I told you a long time ago. You have Talent, more than might be healthy in some ways. Don't let
anyone
know. Herders never tell. That's how we've kept our way of life for so long. Second, the Iron Valleys can't afford to waste men, and it can't afford discord.”

Alucius nodded. That had become so obvious that he wondered why his grandsire had even mentioned it. He looked eastward again, checking the flock.

“That means that your squad leaders and your captains will use you for what they think you're best at. That may not be good for you. Make yourself valuable at doing things that will help the militia without turning yourself into a target.” Royalt smiled, tightly.

“How dangerous is scouting? They mentioned that herders were good at that.”

“That depends on your squad leader and captain. They let you do it alone, and you're probably safer than in camp. They make you take others, and best you stay away from it. Some use scouts like a pole against a sandsnake—to stir up trouble before it can strike. Problem is that whoever's acting as the pole is going to take the first strike.” Royalt paused. “You'll have to trust your feelings on that. Have heard tell that Delar's a good squad leader. Don't know about the Third Company captain, though.

“The other thing is to make your squad leader and captain look good. I'm not saying you should be polishing everyone's bars. Good officers hate toadies and flatterers. If an officer rewards those kind, find a way to get transferred if you can. If not, do your job and keep out of sight. Good officers want the job done, and they want it done with as few casualties as possible. Some of the glory hounds forget that. No real glory in fighting.” Royalt snorted. “You do what needs to be done, and do it well.”

“Sir? Are things getting worse? We haven't heard much, but you wouldn't be telling me this if they weren't.”

“I'm afraid they are, Alucius. You know this as well as I do, or you wouldn't be asking.”

“I don't
know
, sir. I feel that they are.”

Royalt laughed. “When you're a herder, you learn to trust your feelings. You need to trust them in the militia as well…maybe more.” He paused. “One other thing. Your mother, she measured you for a hat this morning?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It's not for a hat. It's for a skull-mask—only leaves slits for eyes, nose, and mouth. They'll have you scout. Wear it when you're out there alone. Might save your life. Don't wear it around others, or some captain will try to take it, but it'll keep your ears from freezing in a gale and someone from putting a bolt in your neck. It'll protect your skull from shattering if you get hit with a bullet, but you'll still probably die because the shock will turn your brains to mush.”

Alucius's mouth dropped open. “Ah…thank you.”

“Not me. Your mother. She asked what else might save you.” Royalt's voice was gruff, but Alucius could tell he wasn't angry.

“I'll come back, sir. You know I will.”

Royalt nodded. “You will. Herders always come back. No matter where we go, we're tied here. You'll learn, as you get older and more able to use your Talent.”

“Can't you tell me why, sir?”

Royalt shook his head. “That's something each herder must learn alone. It's a dark truth, but one that can sustain you. It can't be taught, only seen or felt and learned.”

Alucius wanted to ask more, but knew all too well that Royalt would not offer more. After a time, he finally did ask, “Is there anything more, sir?”

“There's always something more, Alucius, especially from an old man. We've seen enough to have learned, and we're too old to act, and so we try to advise all you young folk, hoping that we can save you from the mistakes we made. Mostly, we don't. Sometimes, we do. Sometimes, that just means you make different ones, and some of them are worse than the ones we saved you from. That's life.” Royalt looked eastward, then surveyed the flock. “Probably ought to start heading 'em southeast more.”

“You feel anything?”

“No. Not yet, anyway, but the new growth isn't doing as well to the northeast. Drier there this summer. Don't know why.”

Alucius suspected that also was life—observing and reacting, but not knowing why.