Not Exactly a Secret [Fanfic]

[morriganfearn]

Title: Not Exactly a Secret
Author: MorriganFearn
Rating: M
Characters: Rutger, Dieck, Clarine, Sue, Fir, Klein, Saul
Genre: Romance, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort (still not clear what that is as a genre, but it's prolly the closest to accurate I'll get)
Pairings: Rutger/Dieck
Summary: It's not exactly a secret that Rutger has some aggression to work through. It is a bit of a surprise that Dieck is interested in this. But as the first half year of the War Against Bern rolls on, the status quo they create begins to change.

Title: Not Exactly a Secret - Part 11
Author: MorriganFearn
Rating: T
Characters: Rutger, Dieck, Klein, Tate, Clarine, Saul, Sue, Ellen, Thany, Noah, Fir, Bartre, Shin, Elphin, Roy
Genre: Friendship, Romance, Introspection, Action
Pairings: Rutger/Dieck
Summary: Rutger needs to change the direction of his path, but doing so requires thinking beyond the destruction of Bern. Dieck needs to confront the past he has been avoiding, but that might change the life he has managed to make. They try to make some plans for after the war in the middle of a battle.

---

Previous Part (Leaving the Fort) Next Part (Epilogue: Sacae)

---

Not Exactly a Secret: Part 11

---

The western islands had too much love of the sea in Rutger's opinion. They allowed themselves to be breached by water at the most inconvenient moments, creating smaller islands connected to the ostensible mainland by bridges of dubious stability. Castle Idina was protecting the seaward edge of a harbor created by several of these smaller islands and a larger rocky protrusion into the Etrurian sea where the castle sat, over looking the fragile network of bridges that attached those islands to the rest of Caledonia.

A small cascade of pebbles from farther up the hill caused the scree to slip under Rutger's feet. As soon as his balance returned, he stilled, staring through the night time darkness towards the solitary bulk of Castle Idina, perched on the coastline like a brooding wolf. No more lights had been added, and the alarm horn had stopped sounding when the bulk of Roy's army had set up their huge bonfire on the far beach of the next island. From the clashing sounds that still drifted on the wind to the party sneaking towards the back of the castle, the Etrurian forces were well engaged with the majority of the army, and believed their escaped prisoners were heading right to it.

Which was good, as lumpy shapes and soft movements in the darkness indicated that the last group of prisoners was heading directly for the rescue corridor that Klein's group had secured. Rutger slid ahead hoping to get around the approaching men and check that they were not in fact soldiers stumbling onto the escape route unsuspected. The last group had been hard to kill without making any noise that might have alerted the castle.

Now Rutger was just glad that Shin and Sue's horses were making less noise than he was. On the firm ground of the lower trail, he had expected their hooves to ring out, but it seemed this was not the case. That was lucky, for Clarine's pony could be heard and had gotten them into an ambush on the island closest to the mainland that afternoon.

Rutger slid around the small group in the dark, eyes searching for the betraying flashes of metal that signaled weapons. Clear. The sound of a night jar, which was his signal to the rest of the party, startled the men and women shambling through the stoney darkness.

The cursing and shhing had enough Isles roughness in it that Rutger was fairly certain these weren't Etrurian soldiers. He might not be able to hear much of a difference between Dieck and Klein, but there was a degree of separation between Klein and Wade's accents.

Shin and Sue moved like ghosts, Klein only just ahead of them, revealing himself with the help of a semi covered lantern. Rutger tensed, eying the castle. This was the worst part. The entire shale slope of the beach was exposed. They were a long way from the castle, but the light, and voices heard at the wrong minute could spell the end for this group, and the earlier clumps of people making their way to the mainland with the help of pegasus relays, and a watchful party of knights stationed on the far shore.

“Don't worry. We're here to take you to safety. We're working with the resistance,” Klein repeated for the last time that night, when everyone had seen him, and he felt it time to close the dark lantern again.

Torches moved along the castle wall, but there was no betraying cry. Rutger breathed out a sigh of relief—battle yells echoed up the beach from the lone bridge to the island where the army lay in wait. More torches flashed on the ramparts. But no klaxon rang, Rutger squinted at the castle. He thought he heard grinding—

“They're raising the portcullis on the back gate,” he said, sprinting back to the group of cowed prisoners and surrounded fighters.

“Clarine, Fir!” Klein hissed, pointing down the rocky beach toward the bridge. “Protect the pegasus riders. Sue, Shin, you take the prisoners. Rutger and I will remain here to provide a distraction, and then move after you.”

“Klein! They might be sending tons troops,” Clarine protested, even as Fir struggled up onto her saddle.

“And we'll hold them off of all of us until we can regroup,” Klein assured her. “Get going, and find out what is going on. Once things are settled, I expect you both at my side. Sue, Shin, you are their back up, but these people are your first priority. Come on, Rutger, let's try to find some cover.”

There wasn't any cover in the traditional sense. Idina perched on a rocky island spit into the sea, along with a few other small islands that protected a large harbor. The Castle itself had a well used dock, but the land held nothing but rock and dirt in various configurations. For now, Rutger and Klein held the high ground of a low hill, were dressed for the night work, and had not been near the light sources of the castle, which probably gave their night vision an edge.

But as shadows thickened and moved, one patch of deep gray looking more solid than the drowned depths of blue around it—too far away to hear metal clank or cloth rustle—Rutger would guess that they were well outnumbered, and their only real hope was not to be seen in the dark. The other lucky thing was that with those numbers, this squad was slow in getting out of the castle, and possibly were just milling at the outer side of the portcullis now

Klein put a hand on Rutger's arm, and padded off the trail to the right for a bit. “If they come toward us, take the lantern and plant it somewhere awkward as a distraction. Maybe we can keep them running over the beach, whittling them down before we retreat. At the very least it gives me something to shoot at.”

“As the person holding the lantern, I'm not reassured,” Rutger pointed out, though he gripped his sword with a smile. The plan was good. They only needed time for the reinforcements to return.

“I'll pretend that's the rousing voice of confidence in my aim,” shouting and a clash echoed from the north. Klein breathed out, looking over his shoulder quickly. “No spell work at least.”

“That means the pegasus riders are getting attacked without back up.”

“Captain Tate is more than capable. I would bet she could hold the bridge by herself,” for a moment, Klein remained a close dark blot with gray smudges delineating his most prominent features, but doing little over all to define him. Finally he sighed. “You know, Clarine has come a long way, but when I last saw her, she was just a little girl, getting in trouble for taking the journals on human anatomy from Father's library and never returning them. Now she has been fighting in a war for the last half year, and traveling on her own since winter.”

She was not the only one, Rutger thought, but he was not a twelve year old girl, and had years of experience to fall back upon. Besides, there was a cold kind of steel behind Klein's words. Not that he would share with Rutger the thoughts passing through his mind. Klein's thoughts were other places, and they were his own. Rutger preferred Clarine's direct way of saying exactly what was on her mind.

The paler blot of Klein's hair shifted, suddenly, looking to the right, at some of the rising ground. “Rutger,” he breathed, “did you hear the way our voices echoed?”

“I'll move away,” Rutger decided, realizing that the oncoming troops probably had heard him as well. “Do you want them led towards the sea?”

“No. Towards the land. We don't want to give them any idea of where we really are by cutting off one possible direction. But listen to the echo. It sounds as though I'm speaking somewhere to the left. If they figure out where I'm sniping them from, can you make some noise to confuse them? They're not going to fall for 'head to the right, boys,' or instructions like that, but—”

“The sound of a sniper moving along shale will be something they're listening for,” Rutger agreed. “And if they catch up with me, this is exactly my kind of fight.”

“Heavily out numbered, lost in the dark, and possibly getting shot at by your own side?”

Rutger tallied up the reality of their situation. “I don't get lost in the dark. Try not to shoot me.”

Klein chuckled darkly. “I think I prefer working with mercenaries who have a healthy respect for their own skins, and a practical approach to optimism.”

It would be too easy to suggest that Klein go find Dieck. But that would be too much like going behind Dieck's back. If time was place, the past would be a different land from Dieck's perspective, one that he was about as willing to step into as any person from the south was willing to step into Ilia in midwinter. Besides, it was very likely that Klein was thinking of Captain Tate, who also fit the description, or perhaps he had no one particular in mind.

Rutger shrugged, a movement that was almost certainly lost in the night gloom. The sound of feet on shale was getting closer. For a brief moment the northern horizon flashed, and that signaled surprised cries from the oncoming soldiers.

Rutger wanted to curse. Of course they would be attracted by distant combat magic more than the off chance of hearing the echoes of Klein's words. He grabbed the lantern from Klein, and ran towards the beach, looping around the squad of soldiers as fast as he could. He only hoped he was making enough noise to bring their attention on him before he flipped open the hatch on the dark lantern, and started moving around behind the merry band.

“Now, who's trying to get away from the generous—” the interrogation broke off in a scream.

“Captain!”

The soldiers floundered for a second, becoming a mass shadow of many limb-like tendrils against the lighter shades of the surrounding beach, but the scrape of swords being drawn sent a shiver of anticipation down Rutger's spine. Another man screamed, so loudly that Rutger barely registered the twanging thwok of a bowstring just before the agony.

Unfortunately, someone in the dark had brains and enough command status to use them. “Hold! There's a sniper. He's probably using the light to aim by.”

Well, that distraction was up. Rutger stopped his circuit, and then tossed the lantern right at the squad. It hit someone with a meaty thud, causing a surprised “Ow!” followed by another scream, as Klein took down another target. Rutger shuffled to the side, trying to make it sound as though Klein was moving, although there was enough whimpering going on as the soldiers dealt with their new arrow decorations that his efforts might have been for nothing.

“I think I see him, boss,” one of the soldiers muttered, and the squad suddenly scattered, leaving only the lump of a fallen man.

Two rushed at Rutger out of the dark, swords ready for his defensive parry, and more than capable of driving him back. Every step that gave ground pushed Rutger down the path toward the castle and better illumination, while his opponents had the slight rise of the hill on their side. As Rutger slid left, a broadsword would come hurtling for his guts, and his low crouch to escape it only put him in the path of the second soldier. All the while, he could hear other shouts and cries in the night and knew Klein was as pinned down as he.

With a tremendous crash, a bolt of lightning shot down, crisping the soldier with the broadsword, and leaving Rutger's skin tingling in the aftermath of the blast from only two sword lengths away. His other opponent, barely any further back from the blast than Rutger, froze for an instant. Rutger was on him in a flash, slicing through the green dots that tried to drown the myrmidon's vision. Rutger's blade edge scraped across leather armor, but he hacked again, willing to give up finesse in exchange for taking advantage of the stunned surprise.

The gurgling cry of his enemy was swallowed by a second burst of lightning, flashing through the air somewhere up the hill. As Clarine was illuminated nearly half way between Rutger and where he thought Klein was, waving her staff with determined anger, Rutger wondered who had decided that giving her a thunder tome was a good idea. It might have saved his skin, but the bright light and noise of the blasts were not needed right now. Still, the glaring green after effects of her attack had given him something to navigate by.

Pulling his sword from the fallen soldier's neck, Rutger dashed toward the mounted mage, and neatly walked into someone else's arm.

“—ho's that?” the voice was faint, but Rutger thought he recognized the bright tones.

“Fir? It's Rutger.”

“Oh thank goodness! Clarine, I've got Rutger! Have you found Klein, yet?”

“Of course! Now, are there any more of the blackguards running around?”

Blackguards? Rutger wanted to raise his eyebrows and might even have done so. Fir coughed. “Not that I could see.”

“Thank you very much for saving us, Clarine,” Klein had the flat loudness in his voice of the recently deafened. “Your intervention was timely. However, stop using thunder tomes. Your elegant fireballs will do. We'll be totally night blind, otherwise. Can anyone see what they're doing at the castle?”

Clarine's voice dripped with excited pride. “Oh I can! There are a lot of torches on the battlements, and I think the outer gate is still up.”

“Well,” Klein's voice was already regaining its normal inflections, and sounded resigned, “they know we're out here by now. Did the escapees get away at least?”

“Er, I should probably talk to you about that,” Fir coughed from Rutger's side. From the way her clothing rustled, she probably was shifting her feet guiltily. “Um, that battle we walked in on, it turns out that some of the prisoners escaped before we got into position—I don't think it was part of Bard Elphin's plans—anyway, they and were hiding out in caves slightly more inland, and managed to find some mercenaries who had been blown ashore on the other side of the island,” she trailed off, but the patient silence from Klein grew to be too much, and Fir hastily hurried onward. “Anyway, that battle we heard was the mercenaries thinking Captain Tate and Thany were part of the Idina guards, and our forces thinking the mercenaries were from the castle, and, well, everything got sorted out when we arrived, but anyway, the mercenaries are helping to escort the remaining prisoners, along with Sin, Sue and the pegasus knights, but they'll probably be back soon to help us. Are we retreating still?”

Klein sighed. That sigh said a lot of things about night campaigns, mix ups, and unknown mercenary forces. Rutger, used to children lying by omission and hoping that their parents did not catch them at such a despicable practice, wondered what Fir was holding back when her voice strained to relate the story of the mercenaries.

He did not have to wait long to find out, however, as Clarine's basic honesty barreled through Fir's story. “We should retreat just a bit. Think about what you said to your father, Fir. Both he and Tate will be expecting us much nearer the bridge.”

“Your father,” Klein began.

“Ah, he's um, leading the mercenaries,” Fir muttered, before deciding that this didn't sound like a rousing vote of confidence. “He's a steady shot with a bow and a very good axe user. He's just a bit,” Rutger was sure she was waving her hands vaguely as she trailed off.

“Loud,” Clarine made no bones about it. “But he's very nice, Klein. Anyway, I think you can leave taking care of any more soldiers from the castle to me. But there's such a lot of milling about, right now. Why did sun down have to happen so quickly?”

Because it was autumn and tracking around to the north bridges had taken an egregiously long time, Rutger wanted to say, but didn't. A lot of things had not gone according to plan, but they were in position to repel any more soldiers from the castle, and the main objective, securing the villagers, had been achieved. Even his night vision was beginning to come back, as he could now see the lighter blurs of Clarine's dappled gray pony without too many color blotches sleeting across it to make it invisible.

Klein had been crouching on the ground, but now stood, his decisions made. “We'll retreat back to the bridge until the rescue group comes back, but keep an eye on the castle. They have to have more soldiers, and are probably expecting us to come around back. When the pegasus riders return, we will have to ask Roy what he needs for his plans, but I think once we secure the back gate of the castle, it's to be a real siege.”

“By real siege are we talking our usual day and a bit affairs, or ancient sagas where everyone's eating horses and human legs by the end of them sieges?” Fir wanted to know.

“Less ancient sagas, and more a few weeks,” Klein amended with a chuckle. With a crunch he began walking for the bridge, pulling the rest of the group along, as it was either walk with him, or lose him in the dark.

“We could get lucky though,” Fir reflected. “Bard Elphin said the supply ship is supposed to arrive at dawn, so that would mean the fort is really under supplied. It isn't as though there's a whole lot of edible food on this island. They could be starved out within eight or nine days, hopefully.”

For a moment the wind whistled coldly around the small group as Klein's footsteps stopped, forcing the rest to stop with him. Rutger knew the sound of Klein thinking at this point, and would bet that the young general had disappeared under a frown of concentration.

“Good point. We're probably best positioned to take the harbor. If Roy could get one of the archers on that mountain balistae we took out this afternoon, there should be enough shots left to at least make sailing treacherous for the resupply galley. I wish I could confer with Roy and Bard Elphin about this. I didn't even know we had a precise arrival time for the galley.”

“What I don't understand is why no one has come up with a magical way to talk to other people at the other end of a battlefield,” Clarine grumbled, taking Rutger aback with the absolute brilliance of the suggestion. “Oh, the fireball code that Lilina taught me should be useful if we're ever overwhelmed. But it's not as though you can pass complex information through fireballs. And we've had a lot of splitting up in our recent battles, where people had to rush from one area to another very fast, and it seems to me, someone would have figured out something a little more clever by now.”

Silence greeted this remark, before her brother shifted slightly, his quiver slapping a little ominously. “Couriers are the most reliable way. The crown tried something with dark magicians a while ago. It was not successful after the first few tries.”

“You mean their souls got sucked into the void,” Clarine stated, as though she was talking about the weather. “Lady Lilina and Lugh found some really gruesome warnings in the backs of their older tomes while we were learning how to control anima. But it does mean that it is possible to speak across distances with magic. Someone should have figured out how to make it happen so that it doesn't wreck people.”

“Well, no one has,” Fir said after a long moment of digesting this information. “Anyway, we already have a lot to sort out.”

“Which we'll do, at the bridge,” Klein decided, getting the group moving again.

Rutger noticed the clear glint of water to the right before he realized that they had reached the place where the island rose into a small cliff above the waves. He nearly stumbled into Fir again, when she stopped with the rest of the party. She laughed as she righted him.

“Lost in your own thoughts?”

“A little,” basic honestly pulled from his mouth.

Rutger didn't really want to admit to having been less than observant, but the idea that magic might replace couriers was preying on his mind. Battle mages already drew a sizable purse in mercenary operations, and if someone figured out how to turn them into couriers as well, it might make more mages turn mercenary, or harm those mercenary companies who did not have battle mages in them. As far as he understood it, Dieck was part of a larger guild based in Ilia, which put together companies of independent mercenaries for hire.

Rutger had been considering, in a general way, what the future could look like for him. He did not want to have to compete with magicians for that future. Not that he entirely embraced any future after Bern.

Fir's light blur of jacket moved until the girl had a clear line of sight to the castle. “I don't think they're sending out more troops. Not yet, anyway. Why did you and Klein split up? Isn't that risky in the dark?”

“Less risky when there are only two people. And we were out numbered at least three to one, if I was counting rightly. In those circumstances, confusion is the best that a small group can hope to achieve. Klein's plan was basically sound, until we were overwhelmed. It was too bad that more of the squad didn't go for me.”

Fir continued monitoring the castle. “You're so intense. I'm glad that there are other ways to live.”

“If there was only one path to walk, there wouldn't be much use in living,” Rutger regretted the response as too philosophical, but that brought a laugh to Fir.

“You really do sound just like my uncle. My mother, too, I guess.”

“Thank you for that.” Rutger always aspired to remind people of their mothers.

His opinion must have showed in his voice, because Fir hastily back pedaled. “No, no! I meant that as a compliment. It's a, a very Sacaen turn of phrase. That's all. You reminded me of them.”

It was almost sweet of Fir, and certainly amusing to hear her panic a little. Rutger gave in to the flash of dark humor, and kept his tone severe. “Oh, so that's the only way I'll ever accept a compliment? Appeal to being Sacaen?”

“I didn't mean it like—are you making a joke?” The shrewdness in Fir's voice suggested that she had been either hanging around Thany and Wolt too often, or dealing with Wade, all three being possessed of a certain teasing sense of humor, though in Wolt's case, Rutger supposed that only showed up when lords weren't in evidence.

“It passes the time,” Rutger shrugged, though he knew she couldn't see the move. “But you can continue trying to compliment me by comparing me to relatives of yours that I've never met.”

“I don't think I will,” Fir said slowly. “Not that I don't want to compliment you, obviously. Your sword technique is still the height of elegance and my ambition. But compliments aren't likely to get me any closer to understanding that technique.”

“It's fairly simple,” Rutger muttered, wishing that he was better at making this clear to Fir. “Cut to kill.”

“I know you don't think I'm serious about this, but—”

Rutger sighed. “'Great swordsmanship' isn't a profession, and killing people to show off—”

“I don't do that,” Fir sounded like steel. “When, during any of the battles where we've fought alongside each other, have I concentrated on elegance above getting the job done? Just because I use my sword at moments when life and death is not on the line, you shouldn't dismiss it. Don't think I haven't seen you challenge Captain Dieck for practice. When you think about it, it's not that different from what I'm trying to do. You're keeping your skills sharp through those bouts, and I'm trying to gain new skills when I challenge people. I know you don't think much of my way of learning, but you're right: there are more ways out there to learn swordsmanship.”

Trust his words and actions to come back to bite him. Rutger felt very small, suddenly too aware of his insignificance in the dark, swallowed in the washing of the sea and the waves. “My way of seeing things is never going to be your way,” he managed. “And the same goes for me. I have been harsh, too much so.”

Fir was quiet for a long while. Rutger imagined her vibrating in righteousness. But when she spoke, she just sounded exasperated and tired. “You really don't know how to say 'sorry' do you?”

“It's like having my teeth pulled,” Rutger managed, getting a dry chuckle out of the young mercenary.

“Excuse me,” Klein interrupted, probably saving Rutger from digging a deeper hole for himself. “Who did you say Rutger sparred with?”

Saving Rutger from digging a hole for himself, but, Rutger thought, probably not saving Dieck from coming to Klein's attention. Well, every escape had to end at some point. Here it was going to end by Fir's natural helpfulness.

“Captain Dieck? He's the leader of the mercenaries Thany—Captain Tate's little sister—works for. Rutger often challenges him. He's the one who carries that large sword.”

“He walks around without armor,” Clarine further clarified. “It's rather unfortunate, since he is so clumsy. Half the time, he's covered in bruises and scratches from bumping into things.”

Rutger managed to bury his laughter in his sleeve. Not that he would ever try to change Clarine's mind, but he would hate to know what piece of furniture or architecture could leave the kinds of fresh scratches Dieck sported. Maybe she imagined that Dieck had made an enemy of one of the horses or the pegasi.

Fir coughed violently.

“Oh,” Klein said slowly. “I think I know who you're talking about. A tall man, generally running off to do things? Well, I'll keep on the look out. I don't suppose you know him well, Clarine?”

“Not really. He looks very familiar, though, if you know what I mean. I think he has that kind of face,” Clarine sighed. “And of course, he's got a hint of peasant accent. But a lot of mercenaries come from common backgrounds.”

“As do many bards,” Klein muttered.

“Are you talking about Elphin, brother? Oh no, he speaks perfectly well. I was so surprised, really, when I expected him to sound like Wade,” Clarine paused for a moment, considering. “Of course, he probably has had to spy on nobles a lot. Remember when the Prince's music tutor was turned out because he was in the pay of the Boulains? Lord Erk made it sound so funny when he was telling Mama.”

“Lord Erk has to make such stories sound amusing when he's relating them at parties,” Klein sounded very very old, like an oak tree, talking to an acorn. “It's the only acceptable way to speak of things like the court's insistence on stealing Mildain's childhood.”

“Well, normally I wouldn't approve of spying,” Clarine declared, “but Bard Elphin's work has been helpful, so I suppose I can make an exception, this time.”

Klein shifted uncomfortably, as though his tunic was caught on something. “You're learning pragmatism so early. Maybe court presentation isn't as far off as Mama and Papa had thought.”

Rutger glanced towards Fir's pale shirt. She knew much more of the world outside the plains than he did, after all. His understanding of what 'court' meant was obviously not sufficient for the conversation that the siblings were having. However, Clarine obviously did not think that her understanding was sufficient either, and changed the subject.

“The castle is taking an awfully long time to investigate the fight we just had,” her whole voice had turned into a disapproving frown. “What do you think they could be doing?”

“Running around trying to find their missing prisoners?” Fir suggested optimistically.

“Well, once you realize people are gone, there's not much to do on the inside of a castle,” Clarine's pragmatism, as her brother put it, was at least grounded in practical logic, as far as Rutger was concerned. “There are only so many places twenty four people can hide, even in a large fortress. Fibernia's fort was much bigger than Castle Idina, and our army was bumping into itself all the time. So, if I were the commander, I'd know my prisoners weren't in the castle, I'd also know that there were troops somewhere in the back, as well as the army on the further shore—so why am I not making any moves?”

“It's too dark to safely gauge the strength of the enemy, and if I'm about to be under siege, I don't want to throw away my troops into the unknown?” Fir suggested, taking to imagining herself as the commander of the castle with gusto.

“Well, that's possible,” Clarine agreed. “But I'm also the person who sent out a squad of eight soldiers into the dark, possibly to track down the missing prisoners, when I heard there was a commotion—”

Fir interrupted. “No, that's not right. None of the soldiers had lights. If they were after the prisoners, they would have wanted to track them. Rutger, Sue and Shin might know how to track in the dark before the moon has risen, but that's not a common skill for Etrurian soldiers, now is it?”

“That's right! It was strange,” Clarine thumped the cantle of her saddle loudly, causing her poor night blind pony to stamp unhappily. “So, why would I be sending out a party of soldiers without lights? I want to take someone by surprise. But, I can't know that we're here—”

“But I do know exactly where the besieging camp is, thanks to the large bonfire General Roy built,” Fir finished for her. “I'm trying to send out very quiet scouts.”

“And now I know there is more of the army, out here in the dark, with some magic,” Clarine declared triumphantly. “So, I need to determine how many enemies are out here. Maybe I'm counting up the army I can see, and trying to guess from my reports how many aren't with the bonfire group. And I'm probably readying a scouting party, to confirm my guesses.”

Klein chuckled. “Careful, Clarine. You'll wind up getting recruited to being an officer if you keep thinking about battles this way. That was good work, from both you and Fir. I hadn't thought about the lack of lights carried by our attackers.”

Fir's voice was filled with pride. “Well, I have been trying to listen to Sir Lance's lectures. He's very fond of this kind of thing, and I figure that if I continue as a mercenary when this war is over, I should be more knowledgeable about mercenary things.”

“So this isn't a small break in arena training for you?” Rutger observed dryly.

In a flash of light gray, Fir tried to elbow him, as though he was Thany, or Wolt. Her elbow fell wide of the mark, however, and Rutger just wished that she could see exactly how unimpressed he was by that response. “I thought you were done looking down your nose about that. Anyway, I don't see why I can't both train to become the greatest swordsman in Elibe and be a mercenary. I mean, I started this because I wanted to carry on family tradition, but mercenary work is in my family, too. Even my uncle has had to earn money occasionally during his travels.”

Some of the speculation that had been plaguing Rutger since Clarine had mentioned that Fir carried a Wo Dao quieted. It was possible that such a family had been able to commission a Wo Dao in the long past, and it had been passed down. Maybe if Rutger was more familiar with the arena circuit, he would have heard of Fir's mother, who had apparently made her living exclusively through arena prizes, and have more knowledge of the truth to the Wo Dao rumor. It was unlikely to have come to Fir through her father's family, after all.

However, it was impolite to ask if she happened to be carrying a legendary sword as her secondary weapon. Not to mention, if Fir was wielding a Wo Dao, she probably had a lot of people more interested in the sword than the person who carried it, as she was still learning her art. In the end, Rutger decided, there was no use in being covetous of a blade when he already knew its bearer, and was friends with her.

“What's this?” Someone called loudly, a booming voice that must echo across the water. “Be you members of young Roy's army?”

Fir groaned. “Dad—please, it's us. Is everyone else with you? Um, Dad, this is Klein, former General of Etruria, now acting under general or something in the army. He's in command right now, anyway. Klein, this is my father, uh—”

“Call me Bartre,” the man boomed again, probably near enough to clap Klein on the back while giving him the kind of handshake that would break his fingers, if Klein wasn't hidden by the night. His voice left that impression of unpleasantly active heartiness.

Clarine muttered something. Despite the fact that it was unintelligible, Rutger agreed with it on principal. Forthright was one thing, giving away troop positions was another. Besides, opinionated as Clarine was, her opinions were not targeted to belittle anyone, as far as Rutger had seen, so it was generally never wrong to agree with them.

Wind rushed softly over their heads, slightly louder than a swooping owl, but not enough for a comfortable warning when Rutger looked up to see the two white pegasi land only a short way ahead of the bridge. The war animals clattered on the shale, stamping a bit with nerves, Rutger would guess, but otherwise the landing was an eerie contrast of silence to the strange mercenary's arrival.

The darker smudges of Tate and Thany, out of their standard issue pegasus knight tunics in exchange for the darker tunics favored by the Ilian mercenaries of Sir Zealot's squad when out of armor, swiftly descended over the wings of their mounts. As soon as they were no longer silhouetted against the pegasi, both knights disappeared, only to re-emerge as disembodied voices by Clarine's bridle.

“General Klein,” Tate's respectful tones when whispered came out with a strange inflection, as though she was strangling another friendlier woman in the name of staying quiet. “Shin and Sue are bringing more lanterns. But the pegasi are nearly blind as soon as we leave the light of the bonfire. It's making them more nervous than I would like.”

“And forcing them into a fight where they would only be able to smell blood would only make matters worse. I should have guessed that,” Klein agreed. “I need you two on courier duty, anyway. There is a resupply galley coming at dawn, as I understand. If we want the siege here to break quickly, and we can't afford to either leave the army here to continue their deeds, or to waste enough time with them that the Governor of the Isles finds out that we have been cutting off his military support, we have to take the harbor, and that will require planning. Now, when Sue and Shin get here, we will have three ahorse, and four afoot. Captain, Knight Thany, which of the two of you is faster?”

“Um,” Thany's voice, much like Bartre's, had no filter of quiet set over it. “I think that's me. Tate's pegasus is warhorse stock, but mine is from a peregrine scout line. What do you need of me?”

“If General Roy agrees to it, I'd like you and an archer to fly to the balistae we disabled and try to use it to take out the ship that will be coming in here at dawn,” Klein told her. “Captain, you'll be my main point of contact between General Roy and Bard Elphin. My plan at this point is to capture the harbor by besieging the back gate of the castle, and, when that galley appears, I want Lilina and Clarine and Lugh to try casting thunder at it, if it comes too close to either the harbor, or the army camp. Seawater amplifies the thunder aspect of anima, if I'm remembering my lessons correctly. Between the two points of attack we ought to be able to keep the galley at least wary of sending in a landing party, if not outright disable it.”

“And by dawn, Thany and I will be able to see and fly with more surety,” Tate nodded. “I will relay your plan. Will you stay here, or are you planning to advance?”

Fir stiffened suddenly. “The portcullis is raising again. I can see torch light from the castle.”

“Then you don't need the lanterns we brought?” someone asked with amused chagrin from the bridge.

Rutger heard loud rustles of clothing and some rattling of arrows in a quiver, as Klein, and probably a few others, started. As he had been relaxing against the supports of the bridge, his own flinch was not quite as noticeable, for which he was grateful. Sue's voice had a low quietness to it, but she was unlikely to find the situation as funny as Shin, who had a habit of smiling in the face of hopeless situations, if the expressions he made whenever he heard Clarine trying to give fashionable advice to Dorothy or Rutger were any indication.

Klein recovered quickly enough, however. “No, we will be wanting them. If for no other reason than to guide the pegasus knights. Did you two catch the plan?”

“Of course,” definitely Sue this time. Rutger realized that she had a particular cadence when speaking during battle that deserted her in normal conversation. He had noticed the directness on the battlements of Araphen, but it had been gone in the bandits' castle in Fibernia as Sue considered her future. “We should probably flank the group as you advance. No one will know where we are, unless the enemy gets lucky in the dark.”

“I'll hang back on what passes for a hill before the castle,” Klein agreed with the plan. “We will create cover fire for the rest of you. Fir, Rutger, Bartre, you will be attacking the enemy head on. Clarine, I need you to make sure that our path to the harbor is clear.”

“But brother, I'm more than capable of getting rid of these brigands—”

“These brigands, as you have it, Clarine, are our countrymen, even if they've forgotten it. You cannot do the same,” Klein's voice lashed out like an icy whip. He relented within a second, sounding once more the cool-headed older brother and trusted general. “By all means, you saved us earlier, Clarine. But if we fight together you must obey my orders. There is a chain of command. Following it is part of growing up to do your duty properly.”

It struck Rutger that Klein was only a little younger than he was, and a full general. If he understood Etruria's standing military correctly, that was something like a cross between war leader and chief. Both Sue and Shin were probably of that status now, thanks to the decimation of their tribe, but Klein had been placed in that position by people who were older and more experienced than he was, and who saw a mind that they must respect. That friendliness masked reserve he had cultivated must have to withstand a lot of pressure to live up to the kind of expectation that seemed to follow him.

Clarine, normally unabashed in the face of kidnapping, trickery, and Rutger's extreme irritation, managed to hold a stunned silence for several heartbeats, before echoing Sue. “Of course, Klein. I didn't mean—”

“I know. Just please don't put yourself, or anyone else here, in danger by trying to be a one w—lady army. Now, we need to see what kind of welcome Castle Idina has waiting for us,” Klein declared.

Despite his words that the troops at Idina were his compatriots, Klein had no compunction about slaughtering the two scouting parties sent to reconnoiter his strength. At one point Rutger found himself backed up against Lady Sue's pony, when his attacker flinched and screamed long enough to slice him open from sternum to navel. When Rutger walked over the body, an arrow protruding from a fleshy inner leg scraped at his shin.

Then the postern doors wrenched closed, and the portcullis dropped for the last time, leaving their little force to the harbor access without contest. Tate was already winging over to Roy's side of the castle, carrying the news that their opponents had settled in for a true siege. Stars still sparkled on the waves. A few arrows from the battlements clattered off the stones far from the single dock, where Klein now waited, but the fire was clearly for defiance, rather than threat.

Sue's pony brought the lady even with Rutger's side. “Are you all right?”

He had a cut along his cheek that stung in the wind, another on his forehead that was finally caking into sticky clots, and he suspected that his surcoat was in need of minor repair but over all, he was perhaps a single wave of Clarine's staff away from being as good as when he started the battle.

“Fine. That axe wielder didn't get you, did he?”

“My horse blanket is torn, but I will live,” Sue's dark shape appeared to be sitting in her saddle without any discomfort, so the wound could not be that severe.

Clarine tutted angrily at Shin and Fir to their left, alternating remonstrations until Fir's father boomed for more light. Rutger prodded the ground ahead of him with his sword scabbard experimentally, but turned up no driftwood. They probably shouldn't start any fires until the siege was official, in any case. Rutger wanted to shake his head at himself in exasperation. He was getting too used to following orders.

Lady Sue exhaled slowly, as though she was trying to spread out of her body, and mingle with the night. “We should be glad that everything went as smoothly as it did.”

True, no one was dead. Even the closest of calls had not been that close during this battle. From the sounds of it, Fir might have taken a bad hit, but her voice drifted around the group, light and playful. The harbor was theirs, Idina was closed to siege, and all they needed was for Roy to name terms, or whatever the proper way for dealing with traitors around here was.

Of course, the definition of traitor was entirely based in perspective at this point. “Klein's plan did work,” Rutger said to the waiting dark. “Should we tell him that?”

“He is carrying a lot of unhappiness,” Lady Sue replied. “You know his sister better. Would she like to hear that she was good at her work when she is uncertain of it?”

“Clarine is rarely uncertain of anything. I would say Klein is much the same,” Rutger commented. “Conflicted, perhaps, but he does not question his actions when he had made up his mind. On the other hand, he's difficult to read.”

There was little to say to that, apparently. Lady Sue managed a small noise of agreement, and quiet settled between them once more, until she nudged her horse forward. “I know what you mean. His spirit is at once genuinely happy, and yet hiding all manner of other things, even the sincerity of his happiness. Bard Elphin is even worse. I noticed the same, I don't know, doubleness, in many of the Etrurians when they rescued us at Ostia, even General Cecilia. I know that she cannot be playing us falsely, but she doesn't come across as true, either.”

Rutger thought about Dieck, and his determination to ignore and push away his past. Did that produce the doubling that Sue was describing? For all he knew, his own spirit was trying, probably badly, to do the same. “Etruria is a strange kingdom,” Rutger said at last.

“It is,” Lady Sue's horse stopped walking for a moment. “The land is so beautiful and alive—you know how rivers are in Sacae, but it's more than just giving relief to the land and thirsty in Etruria, they sing with the fact that they are a way of life for so many people, it's so very different.”

Rutger did not know how rivers felt about anything. Lady Sue sounded as though she was speaking of a friend. It had been a long time since Rutger had heard anyone talk of it—spirits were the providence of priests and children, one set of which Rutger had no good reason to approach, and the other he avoided. In polite society, people did not speak to outsiders about the world they could not understand. At least the darkness gave Rutger cover enough to turn away from Sue's openness, before he could ruin it with his raw envy.

“Rutger? Did I say something unpleasant?” Sue's voice gave Rutger no warning for when her hand reached out, and touched his shoulder to stop his retreat.

His startled flinch caused her fingers to withdraw instantly, but that did little to calm the frightened rabbit-like response from his heart. The night's work had left him far too jumpy, he told himself. “It's nothing,” Dieck was right, he did lie far too much. And of all people to lie to, Lady Sue did not deserve it. “No one—People do not usually speak openly of the spiritual world around me.”

The lady exhaled, her voice rueful. “I suppose you think I'm childish. Shin always does. I just have never seen a good reason not to speak of all my observations, and my parents always encouraged it, even though I don't think my father could see the spirits at all.”

Rutger felt his assumptions grind to a halt for the second time that night. “Was he—not Sacaen?” But that couldn't be right. The granddaughter of the Silver Wolf might have had a mother from outside the Kutolah, as radical as that thought was, but never an outsider father.

“Well, he was of the Plains, and born to the Kutolah, and in that much, he would be Sacaen,” Sue's clothes rustled faintly, and Rutger wondered if she was shrugging, gesturing, or about to attempt dismounting. Since the leg did not move to hit his shoulder, however, he decided dismounting was not among Lady Sue's plans. “But he was cast out when he was in his walking years.”

Rutger shivered. What had her father done? Or what had her family done, to warrant killing the memory of a child in the heart of a tribe? Casting out a child who had not even trained his own horse yet sounded like a judgment against blood sins. Rootless as Rutger was without Bulgar to call his home, he at least had the memory of the dead to keep him attached to the Plains. “But he returned, or you would not be—?”

“The wildflower of the Kutolah?” Sue's soft laugh sounded almost derisive. “Yes. He did everything necessary to be brought back, and he is happy now. But his spirit has always been silent. It never reaches out, and only opens if approached first. Even you—sorry.”

“No,” Rutger gripped the crusty edge of the torn horse blanket involuntarily. “I'm—I have no objections to you talking about me. As I said, no one speaks about that kind of thing around me. Not since I was a child.”

The water lapped at the dock, blending with a lively discussion about Fir's manliness, if the few clear words from Bartre were any indication. At last Lady Sue decided on whatever was right to say, as opposed to being intrusive on the life of a Plains townsman. “You're a bit of a scary mess, Rutger, and you do try to keep your spirit closed, but it just leaks out of you in other places. And it is not silent. I have never met anyone else who held themselves quietly, even when—He and Mama were—I miss both of them.”

She trailed off, and Rutger tried to remember how they had gotten to dead parents once again. Dead parents, and scary messes, apparently. A selfish part of him wanted to ignore her unhappiness and ask for all of the advice he would have asked for from a shaman. The rest of him didn't know what to do. She must be very sensitive to the spirit world, to see it so naturally in her life. Was that helpful when she had lost so much else, or was it painful?

“But what ever has happened, has happened already, and I have done my part,” Lady Sue's voice rang with the resolve not to dwell on what would have to be beyond her control. “For now we have Klein, and—Oh right, we were discussing how strange Etrurians are.”

“Among other things,” Rutger relaxed. Still, they both were without family. It was cowardly of him to try to avoid this. “If you want to talk about your family, though, I will listen.”

“You would, wouldn't you?” Lady Sue said after a brief pause. “Thank you.”

But she nudged her horse closer to Clarine, and the argument that should have been a quick healing. “I did have a point to make about Etruria, though. I've always believed that Mother Earth has—she gives us anchors to places, and makes them part of our hearts. But it is up to us to shape those anchors, and make them out own. In Etruria, with its lively rivers—even the cities have a nice feel to them, but it's a little like looking at a rare and well made sword. Everyone wants to own it. I am not sure if that is the right way to view the land—or maybe it is not wrong, but it has consequences.”

Rutger thought of Fir once more, and felt embarrassed. Then his thoughts strayed to Dieck's opinions of ownership, and soured instantly. “It would not surprise me at all, if that were the case.”

“What would not surprise you, Rutger?” Clarine asked.

When she moved to confront them, she revealed one of the lanterns, and a splash of blood on the ground, leading to an arm wearing an archer's gauntlet, seemingly disembodied as the shadows swallowed up the pool of light. Fir's pale shirt showed in the dimness, leading Rutger to believe that the arm belonged to one of their party.

“Is Shin alright?” Sue asked, gripping her saddle fiercely enough to make the rim creak as she leaned forward.

She did not, however, dismount, which Rutger thought of as strange. In her place he would be running to see if his last living link to his home was alright. But as she did not move, he took the initiative, and slid between the horses, skirting the lantern light to give a better report.

He heard Fir chuckle. “He's sleeping. Apparently its undignified to leave your horse if your wounds would cause you to fall once you found the ground, and Shin responds to healing exhaustion quickly. Father is circling the castle to see if we can get some blankets from the main camp, as well as do some non-pegasus scouting. You don't have to worry about Shin, Sue.”

“Really,” Clarine grouched. “I can't believe he didn't choose to dismount.”

Rutger knelt next to Fir. Given the dark blotch that was roughly head-shaped and breathing coming from her lap, it seemed that Shin was using her as a glorified pillow. The rocks under Rutger's hand were a little tacky, but mostly dry from what he could tell. Somewhere nearby, a horse stamped. He wouldn't dismount and had splashed this much blood everywhere before Clarine was able to heal him? “Oh, I can't believe it, either, Lady Clarine. Isn't it a show of stubbornness, rather than sense, to stay ahorse, Lady Sue?”

“I told you, I was not badly hurt by that last soldier,” Sue did not even sound too convinced herself.

Clarine sprang into action, every inch a healer. “Rutger, pick that lantern up. Sue, where are you injured?—Rutger, your face! You need to wash, once I'm done with Sue. You're lucky seawater agrees with the humors.”

It could have waited until the soapy buckets went around when they knew they weren't going to be attacked, Rutger thought, but he obeyed Clarine nonetheless. When he brought the lantern close enough, it was obvious that Sue's right knee and thigh had been cut, though, according to Clarine's probing, the cut was not deep.

“See?” Sue ended up hissing, when Clarine tried to detach the cloth from dried blood. “That stings, Clarine!”

“Well, you should have called me over as soon as you could to keep the blood from attaching your clothing to your skin like this,” Clarine replied, unrepentant. “One moment, and I'll fix it for you.”

“I was fine. I just didn't want to dismount on a bad leg.”

“Is there some secret Plains technique that involves ignoring the healers that I'm not aware of?” Clarine asked, her voice ringing with the smugness of a young girl who realizes that she has out maneuvered her elders.

The sarcastic pride of knowing better than anyone radiating from Clarine left Sue covering a giggle. “It's a technique I've studied for years, actually. If you're in a position that you can hold without too much discomfort, you should wait until you can get to people who can help you down, and know how to keep you from doing more damage.”

“Well,” Clarine lifted her staff, making it shine with the light blue light of healing, “it's not quick enough. And you might be doing more damage hanging onto your horse.”

“I try to know my limits, Lady Clarine,” Sue's voice echoed softly off the rocks and water, when it was interrupted by another clattering salvo of arrows from the castle.

At first, Rutger thought that they were aiming for the lights on the beach in another show of useless defiance, but an indignant, shrieking, unhorse-like neigh made him look to the sky, where Captain Tate was gracefully sloping toward Klein. She seemed to be coming in very slowly, showing off that she had no need to worry about arrows with a calm that was nearly ruined by her pegasus' loud irritation, and desire to trample the offenders.

Her landing was light, however, though after the hooves came to a stop, the rock rang with stamping noises, and affronted snorting. Sue, as she dismounted gingerly, tutted. Rutger considered pointing out that pegasi were not horses with wings, and were supposed to be much closer to wyverns in temperament—but he supposed that the control that a rider should have over any mount should be the same, no matter the bird-like habits of anger and fury. Though it was also possible that Tate's war pegasus was being allowed leeway by her rider given the darkness and a pegasus' learned hatred of arrows.

It was one of those moments when Rutger felt inordinately smug about the fact that he was only responsible for his own behavior and did not have to deal with horses of any kind.

“Everyone,” Klein called out from Tate's general direction, “let's gather around. Is Shin awake yet?”

“No.”

Fir's voice was cut off by a sleepy, “Yes, I what?”

“Okay, he's awake. Just not sensible.”

Sue laughed to herself once more, but concentrated on rubbing her recently healed leg. Rutger waited for her to get steady on her feet before moving himself and the lantern he was holding to the patch of darkness Clarine had trotted towards.

When the lantern reached Klein, the young man was running fingers through his hair. “Bartre and Merlinus will be coming back here with a few others. General Roy delivered an announcement of the siege to the main gate a few minutes ago. Right now, the commander is digging in. As far as we can tell, he doesn't think we know about the resupply ship, and is hoping that they'll break us. The general and Sir Lance are trying to work on a bigger surprise than what we had already planned, but Clarine, you will need to get some sleep, so that you're well rested when it's time to protect the rest of us. We'll be setting up a camp on this side, in case any of the soldiers try to make a break from the back of the castle. You get to choose the first tent.”

“And we get to set it up?” Fir giggled, while Clarine beamed with pride.

“Well, of course! I am an important mage who needs her rest.”

Rutger tried not to roll his eyes, but Lady Sue nodded seriously. “I'm glad that you decided to start learning how to use your magic in combat. It gives us many more options. Do you need anything else? Together, I am sure this army could hold off a landing party, but I think we all would rather that this plan to sink the ship works.”

“Well, I should probably study my thunder tome—can we have more light? Or is it still too dangerous, Brother?”

Klein blinked with a slowness mirrored by Shin's half asleep eyes. “They know where we are, and with the army's bonfire, the galley will see that there are besiegers here no matter what. Let's set some torches, and get a line past their arrow range set up. Rutger, if you and Sue could place the lanterns at my direction? Uh—the rest of them should still be on Shin's saddle. Let's get started figuring out the camp configurations. Shin, stay with Clarine. Captain Tate and I need to work on some messages. We'll be on the dock once the lanterns are set. Fir, watch the gate. If it shifts, yell for us.”

Decisions made, Rutger and Sue walked the arbitrary lines of the beach, Klein prowling ahead, and calling for a new lantern at regular intervals. A crescent moon was rising, adding to the cold starlight when Rutger managed to rise from the final lantern wick, a small friendly fire glow beginning a line that guarded the harbor. Klein rocked back on his heels, letting out a satisfied sigh.

Sue's knuckles cracked gruesomely as she stretched, before addressing Klein. “You seem sad, Klein. Clarine will be fine, you know. It's good to learn how to protect yourself and others when you need to.”

The young man started, his feet backing out of the pool of lantern light. “Ah. No—I mean, well, I wish my little sister could be the little girl I left behind with my parents when I went to serve my kingdom. But I understand that we are making the best of a bad situation, and to be honest, I think she gets more support here from Lady Lilina and Lugh than her tutors at home could give her. My parents would teach her everything she would need, but—she's the youngest of our generation. I was very lucky to meet the good friends that I did at court, and I was considered a little young. For Clarine—There aren't many young people she would be allowed to associate with. She's happy here. And growing up very well.”

Sue nodded slowly. “You really mean that. May we ask what's troubling you, then?”

“Nothing serious. A friend of mine died on the Isles two years ago this month. I got the news almost directly after it happened, and had to carry it to Aquelia personally. At the time, it sounded innocent enough, but given what we've discovered so far—I'm having my doubts. Fighting these soldiers, tonight—they've betrayed their oaths and their people. It makes me wonder if anyone among these soldiers killed him. Though I have always hoped that the news was false—but if that is the case, after two years, he should have reappeared, somewhere. Not the best thoughts to be dwelling on, at the start of an important siege, I suppose.”

It was incredible, listening to Klein describe the loss of a friend and betrayal of the military he served with such equanimity. If anything, his feelings seemed to be cold, as though he was speaking of the weather conditions, with barely an inflection in his voice—up until the moment his breath caught on the word 'false,' and the pause that followed filled the void with raw cold autumn air. If Lady Sue had not been at his side, Rutger would have considered slinking away from these unspoken memories of a friend Klein would not name.

“Well, at the end of this, you may be able to question the commander here,” Sue pointed out, before frowning. “Two years ago? Last year, Bern began its march across the plains into Ilia. But I think the seeds of betrayal were sewn before that.”

“Really?” Klein's voice sounded contemplative. “Hmm, if we get drawn back into Bern's war—I'd like to hear more about that, some time. How things happened in the Plains.”

Now, the urge to slink away gripped Rutger with total ferocity. He had the night on his side. Even the lantern line was not casting enough light for Klein to notice if he moved silently away. But Klein broke away first, heading for the dock in a crunching of barnacles and a last 'thank you,' and Rutger could obviously not follow him.

“You don't want him to ask, do you?” Sue murmured, taking a stand that gave her a view of the castle's south west wall, with all of the bobbing torches.

“He's an outsider,” Rutger began, knowing he was lying by omission. It wasn't fair to either Klein to be rejected because he was not of the plains, or to Lady Sue, to be given such a lie for an answer.

“I know Bulgar fell,” Lady Sue paused, slowly searching out the words, “swiftly. With blood red streets. That was why the Kutolah decided to resist Bern to the last man and woman. But you—you're carrying the ghosts with you, so far from the grass and wind.”

Cold ice tightened his breath. He had wanted this, he told himself. He had wanted her to speak to him like an priest or shaman. He had wanted that relief, and familiarity so far from home. “They won't be able to rest in the city without justice.”

“No. It's hard, carrying all those lives, naming them, remembering them each night,” Sue murmured, making Rutger wonder how many Kutolah names she held close to her heart. “But you can't deny what happened, not even to an outsider. Ghosts need to be remembered.”

Rutger closed his eyes against the quiet sea and the looming night. The rhythms of the earth, which should be so soothing, slammed into his ears as soon as he tried to shut them out. His stomach knotted in response, tangling like a ruined warp on a loom. Sue knew what paths his spirit was walking better than anyone else at this time. The arrogance of asking her terrified him. “What do you think I should do, Lady Sue?”

“I'm not even an adult, yet,” Lady Sue did sound small and young with those words. “When I'm overwhelmed, I go out for a ride with someone I know. I don't think that would help—you don't seem to find horses relaxing.”

“It's better than archery,” Rutger shrugged ruefully, realizing with this simple comment Sue had taken the building storm around them, and began spinning it into proper energy. “I've always been the embarrassment of my family when it came to being a proper man.”

Sue giggled. “I have an uncle like that. At least you can hunt. My father and mother hoped that I could teach him when I started to learn tracking and trapping, but he said his bad habits were too ingrained by then. He is a great swordsman, though. When the war is over, I hope to find him and Mama, since by then I should be ready to learn the way of the blade.”

“A sword from horseback is different from a sword afoot,” Rutger pointed out, probably uselessly.

“Yes, but—Neither of them are going to be mistaken for Kutolah marksmen. They've always wanted to be part of my lessons, and this way, they can be, even if I have to learn how to fight afoot.”

Rutger smiled at the simplicity of her resolution. “I hope that happens for you, Lady Sue.”

“What will you do, once the war is over, and your ghosts are with Mother Earth's embrace?”

“Become no one, I hope,” Rutger breathed, feeling the world settle around him, pleased with his honesty. “I can't imagine going back to the person I was, and there is no place for who I have become. Sometimes, I think I might as well be a mercenary until I die. But,” he breathed out, “if I survive to see the destruction of Bern, it would be the end of the road I've walked. I would need to find a new direction.”

Rocks shifted and more mollusks had their shells cracked, as Sue walked away from Rutger, pacing toward the castle, then looping back from the sounds of her feet. “I will be going back home, even though my ghosts will not find rest through vengeance. I failed to bring them to safety, and they need to be brought back to the Plains. But after that—there will be other paths to walk. That's what I think I should do. I think you—you should talk to someone who knows more about this than me.”

Rutger swallowed. The same advice, then, as Dieck. Lady Sue at least had not named the Elimineans specifically, but, there were not any other people trained in repairing spirits. For a rash instant, Rutger had hoped that Lady Sue would have all the answers. It would have been a relief to discover that she was wiser than the legendary Archsage, and could tell him exactly what to do.

“Thank you,” Rutger's voice was cut off by the loud noise of arrows clattering off a cart well underway.

Bartre and Merlinus rounded Castle Idina at a near gallop, laden wagon and additional troops in tow. Lady Sue called out that the camp had to be behind the lantern line, and then the whole nighttime world exploded into a frenzy of torch lighting, tent carrying, bad instructions as to where tents should be carried, and lengthy conversations about how to pen in horses. As always it amazed Rutger how swiftly a camp could be set up by seven people working at cross purposes, this time with the addition of arrows whenever someone thought the Alliance Army was close enough for a potshot.

Then came the news that the rest of the army was moving up their camp, and needed help getting things set up. Half the soldiers from the night's skirmishing were ordered to stay at the back of the castle to guard Clarine, and the other half rushed off with Merlinus. The sound of arrows on the roof of the cart was almost as thrilling as the habit of the cart to lurch violently and throw Rutger alternately into the stiff canvas and wooden boards of the frame, or Sir Noah's lap.

It was a nice lap, as laps went, Rutger supposed, but Rutger did not belong there, and both of them were very aware of the fact. The second time it happened, Rutger gripped one of the mysterious leather straps that lined the interior wall and were probably used to keep unruly kettles secure and ruly, and Sir Noah casually braced himself against the other side.

It was the best part of the night, as it turned out, as Noah managed to be Rutger's main ally in the cross purposes ordering of the second camp, taking a direction and choosing to pursue it, no matter what the other members of the camp said. It was much easier to fall into line with the direct approach than try to follow sixteen different orders at once, and as a result they found themselves finished with the tents they were supposed to set up and sitting together by the cook cauldron in the manner of tired people who think they deserve a rest, but don't want to be caught slacking. Rutger was more successful with the look than Noah was, mostly because Noah was a head taller, and not prone to skulking.

“Wings of Ice,” Noah muttered, as Bartre's enthusiastic orders about the placement of Merlinus' sacks of potatoes met their ears. “doesn't anyone get tired any more?”

Rutger leaned back against the vast brass cauldron, and watched the figures in the flickering torchlight run to and fro. The clumps of people carrying heavy things seemed to be drifting apart, and the general rushing was slowing down noticeably. “Give it until the moon is half a finger higher. Did you hear who's assigned to what watch?”

“I'm first watch for this camp. I think you're dawn watch for the back castle camp,” Noah glanced at him with pity in his eyes.

Well, at least that gave Rutger time to find the Elimineans before he decided to put it off until tomorrow. He was already far too adept at putting off things that involved a full conversation, and he could feel himself trying to get away from this new obligation.

Think about entire fortnights with uninterrupted sleep. Imagine seeing wyverns in the sky and not thinking anything more than the usual cynical skepticism about whether they really are that useful in combat.

The way Dieck had put it—getting his life back—had in some ways unsettled Rutger. He didn't want his life back—that would be like wanting a body to rise from the earth and walk about unclaimed, or maybe it was like wishing for something he already possessed. He had a duty to his dead friends and neighbors. It was just like a larger version of a blood feud. Not, he suspected, that any priest, Sacaen or otherwise, would actively condone his right to pretend to blood ties with half a city, but the idea was the same. His life was not a separate entity from his quest for revenge.

But he did need, desperately, a way of continuing that was less consuming. And to find that path—Rutger rose stiffly, stretching. “Have you seen Sister Ellen, or Brother Saul around?”

Noah pointed away from the cook tent, toward some new fires. “We put up the healing tent and supplies over there, so that should be where they are.”

Rutger nodded his thanks, and strode in the right direction, ducking around torches and people still carrying packs and bundles. As he passed the command tent, Roy waved vaguely in his direction, just as he waved vaguely at every person who had not been with the main army since the forces split that morning. Given that Roy was in a conference with Elphin, Rutger didn't bother to acknowledge the attempt at attendance keeping.

He found Saul, and was surprised to see the brother lifting the wooden frames for the cots with Sister Ellen. Rutger had assumed that Saul would be dodging work, as was his normal mode of operation. Sister Ellen was struggling with setting up the makeshift cots and bedrolls, just as much as the other cleric, though, and Rutger wondered if he would be taking Brother Saul's attention away when it was actually needed on this more important task. However, it was better to get this over with, than stand dithering in the tent flap, hoping no one saw him in the shadows. When he asked if Saul was really needed, Ellen jumped, and the wooden frame of the cot crashed on the rocks, halfway in and halfway out of the tent.

“Ah-Ah,” She stammered for a moment, before collecting herself, and moving to the other side of the cot to lift it again. “B-brother Saul are you needed? I thought you said you should be going over to go over to the secondary camp. Something about Lady Sue and Shin being wounded?”

“Shin was,” Rutger watched the not terribly efficient attempts to drag the cot further into the tent. Basic politeness, or a possible desire to keep from explaining his purpose, made him clench his teeth and ask: “Do you need a hand?”

“No, no! I'm fine! Y-you can discuss your business with the brother. I won't get in the wa—”

The cot crashed another thumb-length to the rocks, as her tenuous hold on the bulky construction slipped. Rutger moved to grab the far end, and held it still for the healer until she could get a firm grip. The cot itself surprised Rutger a little as the weight was not really the problem, but the length and width, which he supposed made sense, as it had to hold Dame Wendy as easily as it could hold a weedier mercenary like himself or Oujay.

Together they maneuvered the cot into the tent, bringing it to rest by another two. Getting the straw pallets onto the frames was even more unwieldy, and the ticks were heavier than the frames, making Rutger wonder how Sister Ellen had planed to do what was clearly a two person job all by herself.

“Thank you,” the priestess said over her shoulder as she ran to the pile of equipment outside, and began sorting out vulneraries. “I hope you and Brother Saul have a good conference.”

Rutger was about to point out that there were still wool blankets to unload, when Saul grabbed him by the arm, and hustled him out of the tent. Given that being pushed and pulled around was not Rutger's favorite mode of transport, he stopped walking very deliberately, and glared at Saul, until the the priest stopped tugging, and looked away.

“Man, Rutger, can't you see that she was getting scared of you? As in, thought you were going to hurt her in some way—much like you're looking now, actually.”

Rutger let go of his sword hilt. Again? He thought that they had sorted out Sister Ellen's fears at Araphen. Oh well. He reached up to tuck his hair back, and realized that his skin itched and practically crackled. He still had dried blood flaking off his face. “I see. Are you looking to run away, too?”

Saul found a barrel that sloshed suspiciously as he levered it upright. Given the position of Merlinus' cart near by, Rutger suspected it was a small keg of brandy, or something too good for the rest of the troops to know about. Still, it made a decent seat for Saul, and he looked up expectantly at his supplicant. “I suppose not. So, what can I do for you—you didn't get your back mangled up again, did you?”

“No,” Rutger focused his attention on some scrubby tufts of grass peeking out from under the shadow of a brazier. “You're familiar with what passes for spiritual healing among the Elimineans, aren't you?”

The quieting clatter of camp set up filled the blank, close mouthed silence that met those words. At length, Saul cleared his throat. “I—I can take confession, if that's what you mean? Or I guess it isn't, since that expression—”

“People list their sins against your church, and then are blackmailed the rest of their lives for having told such secrets, right?” Rutger suggested vaguely, recalling insults hurled in the religious quarter of Bulgar which had almost always ended before a council of arbiters.

At that, the confusion of Saul's face turned into a hard glare that had Rutger seriously considering drawing his blade and defending himself. “I am not corrupt. Loose with the Rule, perhaps. But not corrupt. Confession is a sacred rite where we lift the stains from the soul—first by admitting to them, and then by finding the way past them. It's an act of healing. It's one of the the sacraments of faith.”

“Does it work for someone who doesn't share your faith?”

Breath whistled through Saul's teeth. “Like you? I was taught that the power of Father Sky and Mother Earth have to work within the supplicant's trust and faith in his confessor. Some rare people are so spiritually gifted that they can reach out to heal such stains on the soul without the necessary remorse—or I should say, their trust in others allows them to take on the stains for a time, until the person laboring under pain is in a place where they can pick up the burden without assistance. It's a rare thing to do, although we try to train our priests and clerics to be able to do exactly that. I'm not any good at being able to take on something that belongs to someone who does not really, devoutly wish to give it up—but Sister Ellen has talents in that direction.”

Rutger had been afraid of that. “I don't want to give up the path of vengeance—I can modify its route a little, but I must see it though to the end, which will involve the death of every Bern soldier who stepped foot on the Plains, and every man and woman who follows their so-called King. Sister Ellen and I will not be able to come to terms about that. And I don't follow your faith.”

Saul pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why bother seeking out spiritual healing, then? You believe there is something wrong with your soul, based in this anger you have, but you don't want to give up the anger?”

He trailed off. Rutger could guess why Saul wasn't very effective at performing his sacrament. He was not the type of person who could put himself aside to accept whatever problem came his way. As someone just as singularly embodied in the world, Rutger could understand, though it made Saul's vocation look stranger and stranger, the more Rutger thought about it.

“I keep on reliving everything that happened to my friends and family. I remember it, I won't ever forget it, but I—” Rutger faltered. Saul probably knew that his peaceful nights were few and far between. But really, he could ask for some healer's trick of forcing sleep. There were plants and things. The mysteries of an apothecary could easily render dreamlessness—or Rutger would hope so. Maybe he did want, in some part of himself, to be that solitary, thoughtless caravan guard again. Perhaps if he used Dieck's words about wanting his life back, Brother Saul would know and understand his reasons. Or perhaps not at all. “It's bleeding through, now. I don't need an exorcism, but I can't do what is necessary if I become lost.”

“Exorcism?” Saul rocked back on the barrel. “I hope, I mean, you are a little demonic, but that—”

“I don't think exorcism means the same thing to me as it does to you,” Rutger interrupted hastily, not liking the outright fear in Saul's voice.

The priest twiddled his thumbs for a minute. “I'm not sure what to do, honestly. I don't think non-Elimineans can benefit from the sacraments, though I'm sure Sister Ellen would disagree, but that's the difference of the Bernian church for you. It's my duty to help all who need aid. Even if it's just giving you some peace of mind through being silent and listening, until we can find one of your own shamans who could sort this out.”

Rutger gave Saul a long look. “You are aware, all but the strongest, or smallest tribes are scattered from the Plains, and that shamans need the protection of the tribes? The chances of finding a holy person trained in the Sacaen way anywhere between the Isles and Bern are beyond calculation.”

Saul pushed himself from makeshift seat, and shrugged. “This army has managed to unite the last of the Kutolah, ally with the Princess of Bern against her own brother, and find little Lady Reglay's brother, all in the space of three seasons. Finding a heathen shaman shouldn't be too impossible. At this point, we're likely to uncover the corrupt end of the chur—which is none of your business, and I didn't say anything,” Saul added, glancing at Rutger. He shook his head. “Sorry. I'm tired. Come into my new tent. We can try discussing this first step.”

The conversation did not last long. Rutger had only managed to agree to detail the experience of last year to Saul's waiting ears, and began describing the first execution, when Saul's head began to nod. Rutger, who was not at all sleepy given the subject matter, decided to be the person to end it. Saul was trying, but the siege camp had been set up, fighters had been healed, and there was little reason for the priest to forgo a nap. The swordsman nodded when Saul mentioned meeting again at a better time, and slipped out of the tent.

Well,that had not gone badly. Saul might have been exhausted, but that was not Saul's fault as much as Rutger's in his choice of timing. Of course, that left Rutger with very little to do, and a desperate need to get clean. He should probably find out if Klein needed him to guard the back entrance still or if the current forces were enough.

Surprisingly. he spotted Klein almost instantly as he turned around, trying to get his orientation. Klein stood over Roy's map table, speaking earnestly about something—tomorrow's attack plans, or something equally urgent, no doubt. In the dancing torchlight surrounding the tent, Rutger thought he saw Elphin vanishing, the light catching his blond braid, and then the shadows claimed him. Well, bards being mysterious were not Rutger's problem.

He strode to the tent, coughing in the open doorway to get attention. “Klein? General Roy? I've finished my work here. Should I return to the secondary camp?”

Roy jumped, probably startled by a visitor when his focus was clearly absorbed in Maps and Plans. He squinted over his diagrams on the table. “No—we're moving in heavier fighters to the back camp. We should probably bring Fir to this side as well—or maybe Lady Sue? Yes, keep Fir there as an auxiliary swordsman, and let Shin stay to be a back up archer. Wolt will be joining them as soon as Thany can bring him off the mountain. With Bartre, Sir Zealot, Captain Tate and Wade there, we have a good dispersal of weapons and power to protect Clarine and the more limited fighters. Klein, do you have all of the supplies for fire arrows?”

Klein smiled to himself at the abrupt topic switch, and nodded at Rutger tiredly. “You're dismissed. And Rutger, try to find a wash bucket, if you can. You look really villainous right now, and I know my sister told you to get clean.”

“I've already been told off about the blood,” Rutger wondered if being under standing orders by Clarine would follow him into the afterlife at this rate. It wouldn't be so bad, he supposed, being able to say he had managed to be a guard for a bossy little girl as she grew into her own power. Maybe he really was destined for doting older brotherdom, and had just never known because he had been an only child.

Something caught the corner of his eye, however, as he turned to leave. Dieck's pale thatch of hair, head and shoulders over most of the fighters, now that almost everyone was afoot, was striding purposefully in the same direction that Elphin had just navigated.

Rutger scowled to himself. Dieck and Elphin always seemed to be heading in the same direction, away from the rest of the camp when there was a lull in the action. Or getting into the same foraging group. Or heading off to unknown locations with each other for unexplained reasons.

Rutger, battle worn, and half floating on his own memories, had been planning to find Dieck anyway, and tell him that he had been right about talking to Saul. Smug and insufferable as Dieck would be to be told that he was right about something, the news would have stopped those brief worried glances in Rutger's direction as well.

Making up his mind, Rutger strode after the two men. They had reached the darkness outside the camp, where rocks gradually gave way to a silty sand, and the bridge to the next island hung perilously low over the water. Elphin seemed to be inspecting the sea, the silhouette of his head turned towards the dawn against the light of the moon shining on the water. Dieck was a darker shadow crouched against the beach on the castle side of the bridge supports, but he rose as Rutger approached, and something splashed over the water.

Okay, so skipping rocks in a manner that suggested Elphin's presence was entirely incidental was not exactly the scenario Rutger had assumed was happening. They were just so close all the time, and came from the same land, and Elphin was downright beautiful in that foreign Etrurian way of his, and Rutger felt his teeth grinding in frustration.

He glided to Dieck's side, trying to drop his jealousy. Thank goodness it was dark, and Dieck was unlikely to see any of it. “You know—”

“GAH!” Dieck dropped the latest stone. “What—Rutger, warn a guy when you're sneaking up on him, will you?!”

On the other hand, it was too bad that it was so dark, Dieck could not see the look Rutger was giving him. “Consider yourself warned. What are you and the bard doing out here, anyway?”

“Oh, you know, trying to get some space. Hey, Elphin, what're you out here for?”

Elphin's boots ground the few rocks along this stretch into the sand as he walked towards them. “I was merely looking for our soldier friends in that galley. It's nice to get some time away from the crowd on occasion.”

“Of course. I need to talk to Dieck for a while. No one here will mind if I take him,” Rutger thought he sounded casual, but he nearly jumped when Dieck's arms encircled his waist, and he heard a low chuckle in his ear.

“You're more transparent than glass,” the mercenary muttered. “but yeah, we weren't doing anything terribly interesting. We just like running off together, don't we, Elphin?”

“Obviously. You have such a magnetic personality, Captain,” Elphin's feet came to a halt, and Rutger wonder if Elphin had even bothered opening his normally hooded eyes.

Dieck laughed again, turning Rutger deftly back toward the camp. “Let's hang out, not talking to one another and wrapped up in out own thoughts again sometime. It was like a nighttime single tea with a duchess—”

Elphin drew in a sharp breath. “Captain Dieck—ahh, you have an interesting way of putting it.”

“Mm,” Dieck's arm lifted from Rutger's side, presumably to wave cheerily. “Sorry for teasing you. I just wanted to see if I could get Rutger to attack one or the other of us. But putting it that way probably does leave possessive barbarians in confusion.”

Rutger scowled, and refused on principal to be ashamed. “If you're done playing the fool, I wanted to talk to you.”

Dieck's arm immediately snaked back around his shoulders, and they set off back to the tents. “You mean that wasn't you being cunning in breaking up one of the thousands of affairs I'm engaging in?”

There was a tilted smirk hiding in those words pressed into Rutger's hair. Rutger managed to resist the urge to bring up one of his fists to punch it, which he felt was a masterful effort. “Be quiet. You do run off together a lot, and you can't both be avoiding Klein as though the boy has some special plague.”

“Hah,” Dieck laughed dryly. “I suppose not. Though, have you ever heard of single teas?”

“Well, yes? It's a single cup of tea,” Rutger said slowly, trying not to think about the tea stalls on market day, and the rich smokey smells of Ilian traders' booths mingled with the sharp bitterness of the teas from tribes that controlled the East Ocean land.

“Stars,” Dieck laughed again. “It's cute how direct you are. Now, if I'd said that in Aquelia, particularly up by the posh brothels, I'd be asking for more than a drink. Not much more, but a blow job by a professional isn't to be sneezed at.”

“Your Etrurian education awes me as always.”

“No need to sound like you just found two dogs in rut. It's a really specialized bit of talk. And Elphin knew it. He's probably been in that neighborhood at some point, is what I'm saying. Maybe he's from one of the more awkward parts of Aquelia for the noble classes, and is hoping Klein won't recognize him.”

“Not to turn into Clarine, but I have a hard time imagining the upright young general doing something that would bring dishonor on his family like that,” Rutger pointed out dryly.

Dieck just snorted. “Oh, I admit his parents would be disappointed in him if he was out using people who were not in a position to fight back, but Klein ended up in the court. If you want to survive that, and make enough friends to rise in the military, you don't complain loudly when powerful lordlings want to go carousing. As long as they're in the accepted bounds of wildness, what the old noble families say, goes.”

“That entire kingdom just sounds so pleasant,” it was a black mark indeed if Rutger could be making comparisons of what he knew about Bern's upper classes, which was admittedly reduced to “loyalty to the kingdom” and “sometimes ride wyverns,” and find them more desirable. “But speaking of Klein, Fir mentioned your name in front of him a little while ago, and he was very interested.”

They walked to the gentle rolling of the surf. When Dieck sighed, it was almost a shock. “I suppose that would have to happen eventually. Damn that kid. Um, not Fir, obviously.”

“Do you need me to cut him down before he manages to get a hold of you?” Rutger inquired facetiously. “You will have to explain it to his little sister, of course.”

“Hey! Nothing like that! Don't put on your serious voice, will you? I just—Klein's a good kid who's going places, and associating with me isn't going to help him any. Admittedly, if we get defeated here in the Isles, that's not gonna happen, either, but I think we're going to win this in the end.”

Oddly enough, but the usual reluctance to overtly pry into Dieck's life was not dragging down on Rutger's conscience today. Perhaps the battle had been too long, or talking with Saul had freed his curiosity, or he just felt that now was the time to ask. “What should I know about Klein and you?”

“Well, we're not sleeping together, if that's your worry—Ow! Anyone tell you you don't eat enough? 'Cause you've got a sharp elbow there,” Dieck let go of Rutger's waist to rub his side. “You realize I'm going to mock your delusion that I've got a passion for any other person in this outfit from here until the infernal fires rage, right?”

Even though they were entering the flickering light of the outer ring of torches, Rutger doubted that the light was enough to give Dieck a full view of his exasperation. “Given the bits of legends that we're carting around now, if I remember my fire side tales correctly, we might be bringing the original recording of your infernal flames into the world once more.”

“Mm, and I'll probably want to keep tweaking your tail after that,” Dieck grinned. “Okay. I'll just keep on making fun until one of us dies. Hey, do you have a sleeping arrangement yet? My tent's over there.”

Rutger followed the direction of the jerked head. “No. I was supposed to be on dawn watch for the other camp, but I was reassigned here, and no one has given me a place or duty yet.”

“Then c'mon. It's easier to have a private talk with a few canvas walls between me and the rest of the camp,” Dieck pulled him down the group of tents to the battered blue thing that had been traveling with the group since the small group of mercenaries had joined. A torch had been set up near the tent, so the place would be illuminated as long as the tent door remained open. Rutger hoped that wouldn't mean that it was drafty.

Lott was tending a brazier when they got in. “Hey Bro. You just get off watch?”

“Nah, I'm dawn watch. Do you know if Rutger's been posted yet?”

Lott shrugged, stretching. “Nope. Ask Marcus. He seems to be mostly correct when it comes to knowing what Roy wants. Though I'd guess Rutger's dawn watch, too. Wendy got picked, and Gonzales and a couple of the other body count makers. See, Bro, I am watching out for patterns. Roy thinks the attack is going to come at dawn, and he's assigning people like he always does.”

Rutger chose not to question the title 'body count makers.' Wordy as the title might be, it was at least accurate.

There was a clattering outside, and a tired looking Oujay poked his head in. “Lott? Where's Wade? Sir Marcus wants all of us to take midwatch, but I can't find him.”

The large islander grumbled something, and made for the tent door. As soon as he left, Rutger could feel Dieck loosen up. “Well, that's more convenient than asking him to go somewhere else. Though, I guess it doesn't matter, Lott's a good guy.”

There was only one bunk left without gear—the lower one under, given the white tunic trailing over the side, Thany's chosen resting place. Dieck guided Rutger to it, but surprisingly did not pull him down in an embrace, the way he usually did. Instead he flopped into a sprawled sitting position, and looked up at the wood and rope netting above his head. “Y'know, just once it'd be nice not to be the last one in, just so I could choose my own spot. Thany's always claiming bunks with head room she doesn't need.”

“Tell her to stop, then,” Rutger looked at the mess of knees and legs flung every which way over the pallet, and decided he was better off sitting on the floor. “You are her captain.”

“Eh. I never want to be that kind of Captain.”

“One who gets walked all over by his troops?”

“One who yells at little girls. She's passed her tests and is ready to fight, that's fine. But she's just a kid, you know?” Dieck shifted to get a better view of Rutger.

“You called Klein a kid earlier. What does that make me?”

Dieck smiled. “Well, that either makes me an old fool, or you a guy I never knew at six years old. That's a thought actually. I bet six years old you was a pretty sweet kid. I'm sure you got sullen and untalkative when you were apprenticing age, but you probably ran around breaking stuff all the time, or whatever it is little Sacaens do to drive their parents nuts when you were a kid.”

Six years old. Rutger did some quick math. Klein was in his late teens, he would have been six thirteen years ago? Fourteen? Dieck had been a mercenary twelve years ago when he had been tortured, and before that— “That Lord Pent of yours is related to Klein.”

“His very kind and slightly absent minded father. Which, yeah, makes Klein that kid I told you about a couple of months ago. Kids sure seem to grow up fast,” Dieck added, sounding like a man speaking of his first horse, or a bow that had won him competitions, and was now retired, or being used by someone else. “Anyway, it's kinda embarrassing—”

“Missing a sword stroke is embarrassing. Not talking to someone for over a fortnight because you liked their family is something else,” Rutger interrupted critically.

Dieck nearly levitated off the bed. The smack of his head against the frame barely fazed him, as he glared at Rutger, his scars seeming to twitch as he trembled. Rutger stared calmly up at the man, knowing suddenly that this was what Dieck looked like in the defeat by sword Rutger had not yet been able to deliver.

“I should really punch you one,” Dieck growled, his breathing barely under control. “I left a six year old kid, a kid who could have been on a first name basis with kings and princes, and preferred calling me his big brother instead, without a word. If he asks me—I don't want to get into why I did that, because if he turned out like his parents, he's going to do something stupid and unfortunate, and if he turned out like nobles like him are supposed to, I don't want to know him.”

Rutger breathed in and out, focusing his mind on the exhale. In one of their sparring sessions that breath would roll through his shoulder, giving more power to his arm as he swung into Dieck's scarred, open side. That same inhale, exhale had been used by Lady Sue earlier that night for something much better. Fighting only took the world so far, even if it felt much more comfortable and natural to Rutger.

“You think well of him, though, so why not give him the chance?”

Dieck continued to glower, but something shifted behind his eyes, and slowly his head dipped. “It's like your problem with talking to Sister Ellen, right? There's no good way to say that he shouldn't get near me because eventually someone important is going to notice that I'm a low born deviant and start suggesting I'm corrupting one of Etruria's top generals with my crude ways. They used to say I was manipulating him as a child. Using the fact that his parents were irresponsible and thoughtless to get unseemly close to him and all that. I don't want to bring it up if I don't have to.”

Rutger watched the shaking drain into hangdog stillness. In defeat, he became a statue, shocking Rutger with how present motion must be in his body, if the lax muscles looked unnatural. Even when holding Rutger quietly, Dieck always had the potential for movement under his skin. Had Rutger ever really wanted this from Dieck?

“It was your home,” Rutger said at last. “I'm not saying go back to it. But having a place on Mother Earth that recognizes you is precious.”

Like a puppet whose strings were cut, Dieck collapsed at the joints, to join Rutger on the sandy pebble strewn floor of the tent. “That doesn't make saying those things any easier. If you're gonna tell me what to do, you have to be the jerk who has all the answers, right?”

Rutger shrugged. “I can't lie. Tell him what you can, I guess. I, well, actually came to tell you that I started speaking to Saul about what happened at Bulgar.”

Dieck raised his head at that. After assessing Rutger slowly, he laughed. “You're looking uncomfortable. I guess that means I was right. So, how'd it work out?”

“Well, I sent Saul to sleep, but it wasn't the worst thing I've done. Do I still scare Sister Ellen? I thought I had settled things with her.”

Shifting position, Dieck shuffled to Rutger's side, and leaned against it. “Probably. You scare everyone,” a hand slipped around Rutger's waist. “But everything went okay, talking to the priests?”

“Okay enough,” Rutger settled into the warmth of Dieck's chest. “So, doing things you don't want to do can help.”

The free arm moved up Rutger's side to his hair, pulling back tangled strands to free the side of his face, and one ear, which Dieck kissed the tip of. “I still don't think I'll be looking forward to that bitter medicine. I kinda wish the past could stay long gone, y'know? I'd been happy to keep it that way—I didn't even really want to tell anyone about the Reglays, much less meet up with Klein again. You're lucky I like you enough to answer you, instead of run off. It wasn't easy, making up my mind the first time. I don't want to get dragged back.”

“Thanks for staying through my accusations, then,” Rutger murmured. Fingers drifted over his forehead, seeking out more errant hair, and recoiling when they found the remains of blood flakes Rutger hadn't managed to rub away. Rutger winced. “Yeah, I know, all ready. I need to get washed up.”

Sadly Dieck's am left his waist, and the thighs bracketing his legs shifted. “I'm sure we got wash water around here somewhere—right, here's this tent's bucket. C'mon, face me. We'll get the worst of it off.”

A complicated dance of knees and hands ensued, ending with Rutger facing Dieck, but also wondering if he had expended just as much energy by not fully rising as he would have by just standing up and turning around. Still, the idea of standing now just seemed uncomfortable to his tired feet, and this way had Dieck gently taking care of him, which wasn't that bad, despite the roughness of the rag provided with the bucket. Rutger could get used to this.

Dieck tapped his nose with the last swipe of the rag. “There. Think I got the worst of it off. We'll be able to see better in the morning. And hey, we might be fighting again come to that.”

“And we both might die,” Rutger shrugged, glancing at the shadows by Dieck's feet. “Which would save me from any more awkward conversations with Elimineans, and you from Klein's notice.”

“You always manage to find a bright side, don't you,” Dieck observed. “I bet when you've lived to ripe old age, you'll be able to tell everyone of the joys such a feat entails, like losing teeth, and going deaf.”

“Well, I'll be telling that to Plains people, who respect their elders, so I need to give them a balanced perspective.”

Dieck wrung out the rag, and returned it to the bucket. “That's really what you're going to do, after the war? Look around, realized you survived, and then wander back home? You could make quite a name for yourself, if you wanted.”

“But I don't want to,” something was creeping up on both of them. “I suppose you want to continue making your name.”

“Yeah, I do pretty much. I like notoriety and adulation tossed my way. Though, not every mercenary is sung about, you know. You could keep to the shadows, easy, and still do this kind of work.”

The idea pounced like a pack of wild dogs going in for the kill. “You could come to the Plains with me, you know. There's work for mercenaries everywhere. I don't know what, exactly, I'd be doing, but—there's a home there, if you want it.”

Rutger could hear the bob and dip of Dieck swallowing. Sand crunched over rock as Dieck's body rocked back on his heels. The consideration in his reply spoke of careful thinking. “I think I'd like that, weirdly—but Sacae's never been easy on mercenaries who don't belong somewhere. You know what I mean. You Sacaens shun anyone who can't say 'I belong to that family' or 'I'm from that town.' I'm—no longer from anywhere, and I gave up belonging to people other than my comrades a long time ago. Anyway, I've got a contract with my guild for a few more years yet. They've been good to me. They could be just as good to you, you know. You'd be valuable for any jobs from Sacae, and we could spend the off season together.”

For a moment Rutger let himself be tempted. No one had said he had to give up killing—he just needed to pull himself away from killing for vengeance’s sake, once there was nothing to be revenged upon. Not all mercenaries were fighters, even. He could find ways to exist—He could find a new existence, but he was unlikely to find peace.

“You were right, back when you were asking about the way our priests do things in Sacae. It's an all or nothing proposition when a man is looking to change his path. I have a lot to fix in my life. I know I said I wasn't not sure yet, but I think my next path is headed toward a monastery. At the very least, I can't go on killing people for money once Bern is toppled. It would be a mockery of the people I thought I was getting revenge for.”

Dieck pushed himself standing, stretching out his spine with such unnecessary nonchalance that Rutger knew he was just trying to stay active while he thought through the possibilities. “So, that's it, then? We have one war together, and then our futures. Well—I guess it's always this way for travelers like us. Too bad, though.”

“Yeah,” Rutger felt the teeth of separation biting into him, even though there were months of campaigning ahead, and a whole war with Bern waiting for this army someplace off these lonely islands.

“Well,” Dieck sighed, leaning down to give Rutger a hand up, “maybe my mind will change before we're through. Who knows. I might not mind if my only claim to fame is being your outsider lover.”

Rutger knew that Dieck was lying in the way outsiders always did. Trying to soften the truth of the matter with some pretty words. But it was a nice attempt, and almost believable. “Do mercenaries ever get time off? You said there's an off season. Is it long enough to come as far south as Bulgar?”

“You think you could make it work long distance while you're lost without a fixed future?” Dieck laughed. “You've got a special arrogance to you. Well, all this is pretty arrogant, assuming we're going to live after tomorrow and the next day.”

“If we survive, though,” Rutger countered, wrapping Dieck's arms around him where they belonged, “I'm be determined to be exactly that arrogant.”

They looked out of the tent for a moment, seeing shapes still bustling in the dim shadows, but feeling the peace of a sleeping camp settle around them. Tomorrow would be the start of a long siege, or a brutal last ditch fight, and they both had to be awake to meet it at the coming dawn. All in all, they had a war, and then they could figure out the rest. Futures were easier to plan when the secret places of the past came untangled.

---

Previous Part (Leaving the Fort) Next Part (Epilogue: Sacae)

---