Legacies (8 page)

“Don't know. Sanders sometimes carry off animals, and sometimes, they just kill them, leave them for the sandwolves. Never seen one eaten by a sander.”

Alucius dismounted and handed the gray's reins to Royalt. For a moment, he looked down at the dead lamb before lifting it, heavier than it looked.

“Here…I've got the rope,” Royalt said.

Alucius tied the lamb behind his saddle, on top of his saddlebags that held food he wondered if he could eat later. Then he remounted.

He had sensed something, almost a violet-redness, in the part of his mind where he felt things with his Talent, but the feeling had come and gone since they had left the stead at dawn. He hadn't realized that the feeling represented lurking sanders, but now he knew. The soarer had felt the same, except for the differing “color” of the image his Talent sensed, more of a green. Most people he had met felt “black,” although his grandsire and the other herders had flashes or flecks of silver and green running through the blackness. Scrats and grayjays were just thin flashes, brown for the scrats and bluish gray for the grayjays.

Even though he had not known, somehow, exactly what those violet-red feelings had meant, Alucius felt guilty about the death of the lamb, even though he had done all he could once he'd understood. Was life like that, seeing and often not understanding until it was too late? Or was that the curse of the Talent? Did others just not see?

Alucius was standing by the shed door, holding it open in the early summer twilight as Royalt herded the nightsheep flock back into their evening quarters. Once the last yearling was inside, the youth closed the door and slid the bolts in place.

“Thank you,” said Royalt. “How did the spinnerets work today?”

Alucius walked alongside his grandfather and his mount. “I had trouble at first, but I got the hang of it after a while. Grandma'am came out and watched—”

“She was supposed to rest.” Royalt snorted. “That was why you stayed here.”

“She couldn't rest until she was sure I was doing it right.” Alucius laughed. “Then she went back to the house.”

“When was that—midafternoon?” The older man reined up outside the stable.

“No. She did watch for a glass, though.” Alucius grinned. “Mother came over from the processing vats, and they both decided I was doing it right, and the thread was fine. Mother checked again a couple of times, but I only ruined about two yards of the first bobbin, and she thought she could run it back through processing.”

“You have to learn sometime.” Royalt dismounted from the big bay.

“I've been watching, but it wasn't as easy as it looked, and…you know. The shears are less trouble. You just make sure everything is straight, and the slower you cut, the easier it is.” The youth laughed. “About a half a glass after noon, just after I got back to work, someone came in a wagon, but I don't know who it is, because I had to clean out the spinnerets for the night. Mother checked a few times, and said we'd have company for dinner. An old friend and her daughter.” Alucius rolled his eyes.

“It might not be so bad. Except you're still sweet on that other girl. Kyrial's oldest.” Royalt laughed and clapped Alucius on the back. Then his expression turned serious. “Something was bothering Lamb today. He kept looking eastward at the plateau.”

Alucius glanced back over Westridge toward the Aerlal Plateau, rising like a fluted wall across the northeastern horizon. Light sparkled from the quartz outcroppings at the top of the plateau, more than six thousand yards straight up, outcroppings still highlighted by the rays of the sun that had already set in the valley. The scattered clouds were turning the sky into what his grandmother called sky-green-pink. “Sanders, you think?”

“I don't know. But he's one of the steadier rams—and good outercoat. Hope it was something. Thought you might check him out.” Royalt smiled. “Seeing as you were the one who saved him, and he looks to you more than me as his herder.”

Alucius returned the smile, knowing what his grandsire was thinking—that nightsheep shouldn't be named, and that Lamb was an absurd name for a nightram with horns as sharp as iron razors who could hold his own against one or two sandwolves. But Alucius had been young, and the ram didn't seem to mind, even after he'd grown up. “I'll see what I can do. Oh…Mother says grandma'am will be fine—just a touch of flux.”

“Flux isn't good at any age.” Royalt looked at his grandson. “You didn't…?”

“No, sir. She feels a little weak. It's not the same, and I don't know that it would do much good. It doesn't have that same feeling, where everything is all in one spot.”

“Good. That kind of Talent—it's something best saved…” He looked up, almost embarrassed. “If you'd see to Lamb?”

“I can do that.” Alucius reopened the shed door and slipped inside, sliding the inner bolt in place—although the outside flange would allow his grandfather to follow, if he so desired.

Lamb was with the older rams, near one end of the group, and Alucius moved along the wall. Lamb eased away from the group, as if to acknowledge Alucius's presence. Alucius moved forward and ran his fingers through the thick wool of the ram, scratching his neck, oblivious to the pointed and sharp-edged horns.

“Was there something strange out there today?” While Lamb didn't understand words, the ram did understand the idea of inquiry, and Alucius projected that. The red-eyed ram looked up, then tilted his head ever so slightly. Alucius could only catch a sense of unease, a memory or feeling of possible danger, but the feeling wasn't specific.

“There was something, wasn't there?” He scratched Lamb's neck for a moment longer before easing away. Royalt had already stabled his mount and was waiting outside the shed. He looked to his grandson.

“There were sanders out there, I think,” Alucius told his grandfather. “I can't be sure, but Lamb had the feelings that they get when sanders are nearby.”

“Afraid of that. Think maybe you'd better come with me tomorrow. Might bring an extra rifle, too.” Royalt shook his head. “Need to go back and groom the bay. Tell your mother I'll be up for supper in a moment. She didn't say if her company happened to be staying?”

Alucius shrugged.

“I imagine so, but the women never tell us.” Royalt laughed. “Women are like nightsilk, smooth and warm, and they turn to steel under pressure.”

Was Wendra like that? Alucius wondered.

He checked the bolts on the shed door once more, then crossed the open ground toward the house. His mother was waiting on the porch. Beside her was a blonde girl, perhaps nine or ten.

“Alucius, this is Clyara.” Lucenda nodded toward the girl. “Her mother and I need to go over some matters. I think she'd rather be out here.”

Whether Clyara would or not, Alucius understood. “I'll be here. Grandfather said he'd be up for supper after he grooms the bay.”

“It may be late.” Lucenda smiled. “Would you tell him if you see him before I do.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

With a nod, Lucenda stepped back into the house, leaving Alucius with Clyara.

He gestured to the bench. “Do you want to sit down?”

“For a while.” She sat on one end of the bench.

Alucius took the other. “Do you have sheep?”

“We have sheep,” the girl said. “Not like yours. Ours are white. They get dirty.”

“Ours get sandy…when the wind blows the sand. But nightsheep are different.”

“A lot different? You couldn't put them together, could you?”

“They're different enough that it would be hard to put them together. They're good for different things. The white town sheep are good to eat. Nightsheep aren't, and eating them can make you very sick. The nightsheep have better fleece, but they're more willing to fight with other animals. A nightram can kill a sandwolf. That's why the sandwolves hunt in packs. Nightsheep have tougher wool, and they have much sharper and stronger horns. Their horns are sharper, especially the rams. We have to have more rams. That's because their wool is more valuable. You have to keep the rams from fighting. In other ways…they're alike. They like to be in a flock, and they have lambs in the spring.”

“They say that your rams are dangerous. Only herders can touch them,” the girl said. “Your mother said you could, that you raised a big ram. Are you a herder?”

“I'm still learning,” Alucius answered. “Some days, I go out with my grandsire. I had to work here at the stead today. I'm supposed to learn everything before I become a herder.”

Once she began to talk, Alucius discovered, Clyara had more than a few questions.

“Have you ever killed a sandwolf?…”

“Do you see soarers all the time?…”

“Are there any dustcats near here?…”

“Do you think there are Forerunner cities on the plateau?…Have you tried to climb it?…”

“Have you ever killed a brigand?”

At the last question, Alucius smiled. “I don't think I've ever seen a brigand. Sanders and sandwolves are the dangers.” He paused. “At least, now they are.”

The door to the porch opened, and Lucenda stepped out. “Alucius, would you show Clyara the washroom? You two can get washed up now.” With a quick nod, Lucenda disappeared back into the house.

Alucius stood. “Washroom's off the kitchen. We can go in by the back side door.” He turned and walked along the porch, past the kitchen window, casually glancing in, but only catching sight of his mother at the serving table. He held the door for Clyara, and then followed her inside. He cycled the hand pump several times, and then stepped out of the washroom.

After Clyara finished, he washed up himself and tidied the space, just in time for his grandsire.

Before long everyone was gathered around the kitchen table, set for six, instead of four. Lucenda nodded to Alucius. “If you would…”

He cleared his throat, conscious of both Clyara and her mother, and spoke. “In the name of the One Who Was, Is, and Will Be, may our food be blessed and our lives as well, and blessed be the lives of both the deserving and the undeserving that both may strive to do good in the world and beyond.”

Lucenda began to hand platters from the serving table, speaking as she did. “Father, you remember Temra. She used to help me with the carding in the summer.” Lucenda looked at her son. “That was years ago. Her Dysar is the second man in command of the Militia.” She looked to the red-haired woman.

“They call him a majer,” Temra explained. “Clyon is in charge, and he's a colonel.”

Lucenda went on. “Temra was nice enough to bring out some of the hams that we'd bought from Junhal—we're having one, tonight—and she also brought some of the early greenberries from her sister's place near Dekhron. We were also talking about whether Clyara might come and spend a summer with us, in a few years, the way Temra did when she was Clyara's age.”

Clyara glanced from her mother to Lucenda, and then to Veryl.

Alucius could sense that the conversation meant much more than the words conveyed, but what? He could also sense that his mother did not care much for Dysar.

Royalt cleared his throat, before offering the basket of fresh-baked bread to Temra. “Be good to have another young one around here. Specially in a year or so, even if it be just for the summer or harvest.”

“Clyara could use some time seeing what happens on a stead,” Temra replied. “It would be good for her before she gets too old to appreciate it.”

Alucius wasn't sure that Clyara thought of that, but the petite blonde girl continued to eat her ham and biscuits. Like Alucius, she ate the prickle slices sparingly.

“Anyone who doesn't know should see and work at it,” Veryl suggested serenely.

After a moment of silence, Lucenda spoke. “Temra was telling me that Dysar thinks the Reillies are beginning to raid some of the older steads to the west and north of Soulend.”

Temra added, “He and Clyon think that's because the Matrites have taken over the Sloughs on the western side of the Westerhills and moved their horse soldiers in.”

“So the iron women are moving out the Reillies?” Royalt passed the prickle platter to Clyara, who passed it to Alucius, who passed it quickly on, ignoring the frown from his mother.

“Dysar doesn't know,” Temra replied, “but the Lanachronans have moved more Southern Guards from Krost and Vyan to patrol the river roads around Tempre. That's what he heard from the wine merchants.”

“Bad business,” Royalt grumbled. “Sounds like the Matrites are moving east. Means the Reillies won't raid west or south, and that doesn't leave anywhere but us.”

“Why do they raid, sir?” asked Clyara. “Why don't they grow things like we do?”

“Because, young woman, the soil in the Westerhills is poor and because they have…” Royalt flushed, and then continued, “ah…too many mouths to feed.”

Temra and Lucenda exchanged knowing glances.

“That's always been the case,” Veryl said quietly, “and there's no reason to dwell more on that now.” She smiled, a bright false smile. “Who's for a slice of honey cake?”

Even as he murmured, “Yes,” Alucius could sense the undercurrents around the table.

“Lucenda,” Veryl said, almost imperiously, “it seems everyone would like some.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Behind his mother's pleasant acquiescence, Alucius could sense a certain…something. Accomplishment? He wasn't sure, but it had to do with more than the honey cake.

Somehow, although Alucius should have enjoyed the cake, he didn't, and no one said much more. Then, it was time for Temra and her daughter to leave.

“Thank you for everything,” Lucenda murmured as she hugged her friend. “Good luck.”

“Good luck to you,” replied Temra.

Clyara half-bowed to Lucenda, and then to Royalt and Veryl. “Thank you for supper, and for the honey cake.”

“We'll get the wagon ready, Alucius,” Royalt declared, starting for the door.

Alucius followed.

Once Royalt and Alucius had rehitched the two horses to Temra's wagon and seen the two off, Royalt turned to Alucius. “You need to get washed up and head for bed. No reading tonight. Be a long day tomorrow. Be waking you a half glass early.”

“We're going farther with the flock?”

“No. Have some chores before we go. We'll talk about it in the morning.”

“Yes, sir.” With the sense of resignation that Royalt projected, Alucius didn't press his luck in questioning, but headed directly for the porch and the back door to the washroom.

He washed quickly and was getting to head into the main room to say goodnight when he heard voices in the kitchen. He paused just outside the washroom door, listening.

“…very effective, daughter.”

“You think I like it, Father? I've already lost one. In a way, I've even lost Temra. We were much closer until Dysar…”

The bitterness in Lucenda's voice shivered through Alucius, and he remained almost frozen in place.

A sigh from Royalt followed. “No…hoped it wouldn't come to this. Or that it wouldn't come till I was laid under the soil.”

“Don't speak like that. You're still young and strong.”

“Strong enough. Be better to be ailing and failing.”