The Marcher Lord (Over Guard) (15 page)

And while Captain Marsden occasionally called Corporal
Wesshire over to assist with the more difficult measures, the three remaining members of the flank were primarily and dutifully employed with assisting the margrave’s daughter with her belongings. This was a much more involved undertaking, obvious even from Ian and Rory’s vantage over their cobers. It was one that required a great deal of questions and jokes and fawning and amused responses and blustering and boasting and soft amused laughter and posturing and general delaying of completion and whatever else that Ian was unable to pick up from his range.

This
mostly came from Kieran and Brodie of course, and Corporal Wesshire worked without much comment.

“Hurry it up,” Corporal
Hanley said to Rory and Ian without turning from the main pot that he was attending to, “we haven’t got all night, those need to be put in soon.”

“Yes
, corporal,” they murmured guiltily, looking back down at their cobers and trying to ignore all the delightfully desirable sorts of work being done on the other side of camp.

“Brodie told me her name is Elizabeth,” Rory murmured to Ian.

“Oh,” Ian said, not sounding as if he cared, that it didn’t strike him as a wonderfully fitting name.

Finally finishing with the last of the cobers,
Ian got up and brought them over to Corporal Hanley, who promptly dumped them into the stew. He asked Ian if he would stir it for a few minutes while he went to fetch something else.

By this point
, Ian’s stomach was growing restless, and the aroma was beginning to take a beautiful shape. But he found his eyes wandering upwards, following the soft pacing as the three conscripted attendants finished raising the elaborate tent. In the last of the daylight that the mountains weren’t able to catch, the white dress looked almost luminescent above the plains that rolled beyond them. A calm breeze affected the lowest bits of her hair, gently moving it around her and only letting go at the wistful ends of her shoulders. The steps she made in the course of her directions were capable in a strange sort of way, not how he would’ve guessed a noble daughter’s steps would be. Ian kept hoping she was going to look their way at some point, her eyes easy as she watched the show that was being put on for her.

“Look out,” Rory said as he came over with his half of the cobers.

“Put them in,” Ian murmured, moving aside a bit as Rory positioned his collapsible board over the stew pot.

Rory started rolling the cobers down the board and into the pot, taking some care as the cobers were an unruly
, oblong shape. As Ian watched, however, Rory’s aim got increasingly bad, getting closer and closer to missing the edge of the pot. Ian looked up to find the cause being that Rory’s eyes were on the margrave’s daughter.

“Watch it,” Ian snapped just as
a handful of the cobers rolled off onto the ground and the edge of the fire pit.

Cursing, Rory tried t
o correct his mistake, but overcompensated and ended up sending the rest of the cobers to the other side of their target.

They both
immediately scrambled at the ground, quickly tossing them in the pot, only a few of them receiving cursory sleeve wipes. Ian looked back over his shoulder to make sure both of their supervisors hadn’t noticed.

“Wipe that one off,” Ian grabbed one in particular
from Rory that had ashes on it. “Maybe you should pay more attention.”

“Well, you’re supposed to be the one guiding them in,” Rory huffed.

“Yeah?” Ian asked, trying to reign in what he’d rather say. “Does that mean you’re the one who’s supposed to be watching the girl?”

“I was not,” Rory said.

Ian only glared at him and viciously resumed stirring at the stew.

Rory briefly glanced at her. “I was not. I’m not interested in any girls right now. I’ve got more important things to be worried about at the moment.”

“Like cooking?” Ian said. “Just go and get some more wood.”

Rory gave Ian a resentful look
as he started off. “You’re not in charge.”

“The watcher
’s cloak, unique to Bevish rangers and designed to merge the concept of energy shield and practical traveler’s cloak, is capable of absorbing small to moderate fire and redirecting heavier energy to some extent. It also has some camouflaging ability, is waterproof, and most famously of all, is able to shift both its thickness and hardness from a stolid melee shield all the way around to a passable form of bedding.”

—Yeoman encyclopedia entry

Lord Wester and his daughter were served first, Captain Marsden presenting him with the best portions and the bit of Dervish bread that the captain had asked Lieutenant Taylor to fix. The rangers were allowed to serve themselves in their mess kits by rank after the lord and his daughter had been seated and Captain Marsden had said the blessing. The stew turned out to be a success, Lieutenant Taylor proudly citing his technique of soaking the potatoes so that they absorbed flavor from the meat as the secret.

They sat in a rough semi
circle with the lord and his daughter making up the other half. It seemed somewhat ironic to Ian that a general air of uncertainty rested over whether they should sit with their charges or not, so they settled with something of a compromise that really didn’t work if they shouldn’t, and was awkward if they should. Corporal Wesshire volunteered to keep watch from atop the rock outcropping they’d camped near while they ate. The Chax sat and ate whatever they’d prepared by themselves.

“I
t seems strange how cool it gets after such a hot day,” Lieutenant Taylor commented after talk of the food had run its course.

The
lord and his daughter had quietly agreed that it was very good, though it was no doubt much less opulent than what they were accustomed to. Still, Ian felt the fact that they were agreeable about it helped to reinforce the respectable attitude the company was able to maintain toward the margrave.

“Not much out here to keep it all in
,” Captain Marsden said as he finished a bit from his stew. “Marvelous out here, makes you feel like you could walk for days without seeing any hint that civilization exists anywhere at all.”

“Quite so,” Lieutenant Taylor nodded.

“But,” the captain paused for a moment, holding a finger to his lips as he swallowed thoughtfully, “we shall have it even better the further out we get. There are still a good deal of other hunters and trappers out along this stretch of plains, even though the Empire has cut the local trade down for the time being. The Dervish hunters are certainly out of sorts about that.”

“Will we be able to begin by to
morrow then?” Lord Wester asked.

Captain Marsden briefly glanced back at the
Chax. “I greatly believe so. This first day was more for establishing some room than anything. But now that we’re out and about, we can spend the next few days going along to see if we can run across any long buffalo. From what I gather, they move in lines across these areas. At any rate, we should see some soon.”

“
I haven’t spoken at great length with the Chax,” Lord Wester said, “what do they plan in the next few days?”

“I couldn’t confer about that,
My Lord,” the captain said, pausing for a moment before being taken aback. “I don’t know, My Lord. All of our arrangements are wholly up to your whims, but it might be good to speak of that to the Chax guides.”

“Yes,” Lord Wester said,
staring at the captain.

“Rig
ht,” the captain said brusquely. “Ah, Corporal Hanley, fetch us one of the leaders so that we may decide this immediately.”

“Yes, sir,” Corporal
Hanley said, putting down his food and blankly making his way over to the Chax group.

Ian made sure to turn his head back after allowing himself a moment to watch, but many of the others weren’t quite as disciplined. And to his surprise he caught the girl’s—Elizabeth’s
—eyes, and for a moment they held his, a small smile forming beneath hers, a slightly less restrained one beneath his. His heart rate responded a little in turn and he looked away first, grateful that there were so many other comparatively bland places to look. He managed to notice, upon sneaking another quick glance to see how she reacted, that when she looked away, she looked off to the side, at Captain Marsden in fact, instead of down as most ladies did in what Ian realized he associated with false coyness.

No,
Ian thought as he tried to fill his mouth full enough to cover his grin. The margrave’s daughter didn’t seem to be like so many of the prim and flitty daughters of nobility that so many fashionable novels were gleaned from. This Elizabeth Wester, by all accounts apparent to him, at least thus far, seemed to be very intelligent.

Corporal
Hanley returned, leading one of the slighter Chax behind him. Upon reaching the circle of people there was some confusion, but Ellis remained courteous and waved the guide to the spot he’d vacated, which was appropriately near both the captain and the margrave.

“Uh, yes,” the captain started, “good evening. We were just conferring among ourselves what sort of immediate plans we have for the next few days of this expedition, and we thought that it would be best to inquire after the terrain and game
that we should hope to encounter.”

“Thank you,” the
Chax nodded slightly, “we have expressed our gratitude for your invitation to guide this expedition to Lord Wester and his lovely daughter. However, we haven’t done it officially to all of you good men.”

Ian started a bit. H
is curiosity was already well piqued by the very formal manner the Chax was conducting himself, but even more so at the guide’s seemingly flawless Bevish. He tried hard to think if this was the Chax he had spoken to this morning while memorizing some of his defining characteristics.

“As to the next few days,” the
Chax went on, “these Hovoloko Plains are at their peak for the various animals that migrate through this region. The long buffalo in particular are very plentiful in their migrating lines, and I expect we shall run into at least one large line tomorrow. The four horn herds aren’t as numerous this far south, but we should be able to find some, especially near the water holes. We have most of those mapped. There should also be opportunity to see leeta and suplins with much luck. And a few days from now, at a slow pace, taking some time for hunting, we will reach the rock gardens and the Mombosso River. That will be a good place to camp and hunt for some time.” The Chax paused, looking at Lord Wester cautiously. “That is, if My Lord would like.”

“Yes,” Lord Wester said, “that will
all be well. Where are the red lions most prevalent in this region?”

The
Chax gave a pronounced hesitation, and Ian imagined he could nearly see the Chax mentally weighing out the safest sentence. “The red lion, My Lord, isn’t especially common. They also have very little tendency to stay in one area or to stay to any predictable migration plan.”

“But they favor certain circumstances,” Lord Wester said lowly.

“Yes,” the Chax said, “anywhere there are herds of their prey, especially the long buffalo. It also seems more likely to encounter them in the higher hills, along the Quacu Mountains to the west. But we must always warn of the dangers they carry. They are extremely hard to kill, and often are found in prides. They are always a threat, whether or not they are provoked.”

“It is a
ll just a matter of being prepared, I would think,” Captain Marsden said.

“It’s very rare for no deaths
to occur in a party that is attacked,” the Chax stressed. “Very rare.”

“Your warning is necessary, and appreciated,” Lord Wester answered, not having stirred, “
but if it was not worth pursuing, I should have never gone out of bed, much less here. With good fortune, we’ll encounter at least one.”

“Yes,
My Lord,” the Chax said.

“To the lion then,” Lord Wester raised his cup not quite lazily, “and all that killing him entails.”

“To the lion,” Lieutenant Taylor and Captain Marsden said just a moment before everyone else joined in.

Elizabeth also raised her glass but didn’t say anything, her eyes pleas
ed in a way that wasn’t excited, but Ian categorized the sentiment as very similar as he chorused with the others.

While he didn’t necessarily think that the margrave’s amount of respect
quite matched the peril that the red lions posed, famed as they were throughout the Empire for precisely the reason why the margrave was here, Ian promised that he would make an opportunity to shoot at one. He glanced over at Rory, who was looking off at the burgeoning night pattern above them.

“Tell me more about the lion, then,” Lord Wester said as he settled back on his elbows and made preparations for his pipe.

“My people know him as
nar
,” the Chax said, also settling somewhat, “as he is associated with death, always hungry, always watchful. They are even more feared than the ash dragons, and once were numerous throughout the continent.”

*              *              *              *

The talk of lions and game and firearms and the Empire went on for some time, Ian alternately engaged and restless at the lack of permission for the enlisted men to be involved in the conversation. It was primarily Captain Marsden talking anyway, and though Ian begrudged it, the man was very well versed in many sorts of facts, though his opinion often fell to debatable conclusions.

After the margrave
had finished listening to what interested him from the Chax, the guide sat and politely listened for a long time before excusing himself. Ian watched and waited a minute or so before also asking permission to leave. This wasn’t much cause for attention, as Anglas and Brodie had already done so in conjunction with their taking the first night watch. Ian’s departure for bed was also highly expected, as he’d volunteered for the last watch. He didn’t really mind and had done so mostly because no one else wanted to take it. Prudence dictated that he also probably should have been to sleep by this time.

“Hello,” Ian said quietly as he approached the
Chax guide, who was getting something from one of the brisa’s side packs, “good evening.”

“Good evening,” the
Chax turned toward him, his features difficult to make out in the darkness.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you
r name,” Ian said, unsure whether he should extend his hand, but deciding that it was safer to do so and not misplace a moment of required civility. “I’m Private Ian Kanters. I’m very glad you spoke to us, it was very informative.”

“Thank you,” the
Chax said, hesitantly take his hand and raising it once before letting go, “that is very kind of you. My birth name is Pawajisosomo, but my adopted parents called me William.”

“I see,” Ian said, frowning and smiling a bit, “how did all that come about?”

“Yes, I suppose it always sounds strange to others,” the Chax said, perhaps also smiling. It was hard to tell. “I was born in the Ullomaya Province, but my parents died of a lanphoid outbreak when I was very young.”

“Oh,” Ian said, shifting to his other foot. Lanphoid, while generally
controllable within the bounds of civilization, was one of the worst diseases that periodically ravaged Ellosia and required constant inoculation. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” the
Chax said, sounding awkward. “Fortunately, a Bevish missionary couple adopted and raised me in the Chiaktak village. They raised me very well. Not very many other orphans are so fortunate.”

“No,” Ian said, thinking back to the boys he’d met in Carciti, and wondered how many parentless
children were on Orinoco because of Ellosian contact. “They must have educated you especially well, your Bevish is excellent.”

“Thank you,” the
Chax said, “I have been given many advantages because of my parents. I have been richly blessed by God. Though I do not know why.”

“Who can know?” Ian shrugged,
trying to figure out if that meant the Chax did in fact believe in the Christian God, and just how unusual that was. “I imagine it’s been especially useful to know Bevish since Derfi ceded Orinoco.”

“Yes,” the
Chax laughed a little, “a lot of change has been happening here, and while some have been hurt by it and are very angry, it seems mostly a good thing that Baldave is in control now.”

“And it will get even better, I bet,” Ian said. “So what do you
normally prefer people to call you? Do the other Chax call you William?”

“Oh, no,” the
Chax shook his head, his demeanor visibly dropping. “I have them know me as Will, which is good enough. It doesn’t insult my parents, and in our language, Will sounds similar to a name of authority, so it serves me well.”

“You’re in charge of all the guides?” Ian asked, impressed.

“Yes,” the Chax nodded, “this is a crew that I have contracted. Though the favor would be mine, um, to ask very deeply that you don’t tell anyone what my Christian name is.”

“Oh, of course not,” Ian said, taken aback. “I promise I won’t.”