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.A few flakes of dry snow wafted on the night wind,and the stars were gone.The overcast was thickening.Rogan might havebeen hoping for fine weather, but the spirits of air were capricious, mercu-rial.His eyes remained on Tristan as they ducked into the pavilion beneaththe banners of the Northwinds and the Ancients, between shoulder-highsconces and braziers where fires kept out the dark and cold.Buffalo hidesfell into place behind them.Underfoot were worn deerskins and reed mats.The dogs wolfhounds, fighting dogs, a few lapdogs were curled up,sleeping in the warmth while their masters ate.Twenty officers had gathered at the tables, the captains and lieuten-ants of both regiments.Shevan returned a scattering of salutes, but Morganrefused to even see salutes when her officers were on their own time, andfew people bothered making them.She led the way through the front, openpart of the pavilion, where the tables would be littered with maps andcharts after dinner, when officers, scouts, astrologers and outland baronsgathered to make plans for war.She muttered a good evening and pressedon, into her private quarters.Brass lamps hissed like snakes, colored lanterns danced overhead inthe rigging, in a breeze Rogan could not feel.The sides of the pavilion werehung with tapestries and buffalo hide paintings, and the carpets here wererich with the hues and motifs of Zhenand and Fuegos and Sedova.Morganliked brilliant colors, vibrancy, pungent joss, and white cats.Two wereasleep on the red and green counterpane on the big brass-framed bed in thewest corner.An incense burner shaped like a coiled dragon plumed smokefrom both nostrils, and three braziers glowed orange with incandescentcharcoal.The air was warm, sharp with cedar and spice.Three stewards were laying the long table for dinner.Rogan saw theeldest take a quick head count and whisper to an underling, who hurriedout for two extra platters, knives, tankards.They would not have beenexpecting Tristan to come in with Talesyn; and where Tristan went, Sybellawent also, whether she had been formally invited or not.Tonight, no onewas willing to argue with her.A dozen more lamps were lit, and as many candles, as thick as Rogan swrist and as long as his arm.Morgan s quarters gleamed with artwork,bronzes, cut glass and polished stones.In the corner opposite the bed wasa tall, black-enamelled screen, and behind it, a bathtub Rogan knew well.It was the colonel s prerogative to bathe in hot water and privacy, and helooked forward to it.He could not resist picturing Tristan in that tub andin the colonel s bed, which was wide, with a well-stuffed mattress.It wouldsleep two, though it seldom did. You ve not fought yet, Rigel was saying as Morgan and Shevanpoured rough red wine.A poker sizzled and spat in the goblets. We ve fought a dozen times, more, Morgan argued, but just bloodylittle skirmishes, a chieftain trying out the new season s warriors here, ahunting party blundering into our scouts there.We ve not fought a battleyet.I d like to say, please gods, we won t fight one! But it s a fool who sayssuch things, and I was never a fool. As she spoke, she swung off the cloak, threw it over a bench, and setaside the crutch.She was nimble on her right foot, and Rogan was im-pressed, though it pained him to watch.She hopped to her own place at thehead of the table and plunked down into the chair. We ve lost thirty men, she said bitterly. Skirmishes can be costly.The season has barely begun. Prisoners, Rogan prompted. We saw your stockade on the way in. We have fifteen, Shevan reported, though one s injured and mightnot make it through the night. Most of them are Hrald s people.Somearen t.I wouldn t know.You want to look at them? Some of them. Tired as he was, Rogan gestured in the direction ofthe stockade. I saw faces in your pens that don t belong to the Eisweg in nor to any tribe of Nordheimers, if I m any judge.You know the ones? Oh, I know the ones. Morgan leaned over and set a hand onTalesyn s arm. Tal, my darling, would you send for the duty lieutenant? He pushed back his chair at once. Of course.I also know the prisonersRogue means.Will I tell Victor to have them hauled in here? Rogue? Morgan sat back. Your decision.I m leaving in the morn-ing, if you recall. Have them hauled in, Rogan affirmed. Then, tell me where youwant me to sleep tonight, Morgan.Either the north road is getting harder,or I m getting old.My spine doesn t take as kindly to these forays. No one s does, Morgan said tartly. And yes, we re getting old, theboth of us.They coddle me because of this. She slapped her left thigh,where the leg was gone below the knee. I could tell them, I can still ride ahorse as well as I ever did, and I shoot a damned sight straighter, becauseit s the one warrior skill I can still practice! But I let the buggers coddle me,Rogue, because there s days when my foot aches [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.A few flakes of dry snow wafted on the night wind,and the stars were gone.The overcast was thickening.Rogan might havebeen hoping for fine weather, but the spirits of air were capricious, mercu-rial.His eyes remained on Tristan as they ducked into the pavilion beneaththe banners of the Northwinds and the Ancients, between shoulder-highsconces and braziers where fires kept out the dark and cold.Buffalo hidesfell into place behind them.Underfoot were worn deerskins and reed mats.The dogs wolfhounds, fighting dogs, a few lapdogs were curled up,sleeping in the warmth while their masters ate.Twenty officers had gathered at the tables, the captains and lieuten-ants of both regiments.Shevan returned a scattering of salutes, but Morganrefused to even see salutes when her officers were on their own time, andfew people bothered making them.She led the way through the front, openpart of the pavilion, where the tables would be littered with maps andcharts after dinner, when officers, scouts, astrologers and outland baronsgathered to make plans for war.She muttered a good evening and pressedon, into her private quarters.Brass lamps hissed like snakes, colored lanterns danced overhead inthe rigging, in a breeze Rogan could not feel.The sides of the pavilion werehung with tapestries and buffalo hide paintings, and the carpets here wererich with the hues and motifs of Zhenand and Fuegos and Sedova.Morganliked brilliant colors, vibrancy, pungent joss, and white cats.Two wereasleep on the red and green counterpane on the big brass-framed bed in thewest corner.An incense burner shaped like a coiled dragon plumed smokefrom both nostrils, and three braziers glowed orange with incandescentcharcoal.The air was warm, sharp with cedar and spice.Three stewards were laying the long table for dinner.Rogan saw theeldest take a quick head count and whisper to an underling, who hurriedout for two extra platters, knives, tankards.They would not have beenexpecting Tristan to come in with Talesyn; and where Tristan went, Sybellawent also, whether she had been formally invited or not.Tonight, no onewas willing to argue with her.A dozen more lamps were lit, and as many candles, as thick as Rogan swrist and as long as his arm.Morgan s quarters gleamed with artwork,bronzes, cut glass and polished stones.In the corner opposite the bed wasa tall, black-enamelled screen, and behind it, a bathtub Rogan knew well.It was the colonel s prerogative to bathe in hot water and privacy, and helooked forward to it.He could not resist picturing Tristan in that tub andin the colonel s bed, which was wide, with a well-stuffed mattress.It wouldsleep two, though it seldom did. You ve not fought yet, Rigel was saying as Morgan and Shevanpoured rough red wine.A poker sizzled and spat in the goblets. We ve fought a dozen times, more, Morgan argued, but just bloodylittle skirmishes, a chieftain trying out the new season s warriors here, ahunting party blundering into our scouts there.We ve not fought a battleyet.I d like to say, please gods, we won t fight one! But it s a fool who sayssuch things, and I was never a fool. As she spoke, she swung off the cloak, threw it over a bench, and setaside the crutch.She was nimble on her right foot, and Rogan was im-pressed, though it pained him to watch.She hopped to her own place at thehead of the table and plunked down into the chair. We ve lost thirty men, she said bitterly. Skirmishes can be costly.The season has barely begun. Prisoners, Rogan prompted. We saw your stockade on the way in. We have fifteen, Shevan reported, though one s injured and mightnot make it through the night. Most of them are Hrald s people.Somearen t.I wouldn t know.You want to look at them? Some of them. Tired as he was, Rogan gestured in the direction ofthe stockade. I saw faces in your pens that don t belong to the Eisweg in nor to any tribe of Nordheimers, if I m any judge.You know the ones? Oh, I know the ones. Morgan leaned over and set a hand onTalesyn s arm. Tal, my darling, would you send for the duty lieutenant? He pushed back his chair at once. Of course.I also know the prisonersRogue means.Will I tell Victor to have them hauled in here? Rogue? Morgan sat back. Your decision.I m leaving in the morn-ing, if you recall. Have them hauled in, Rogan affirmed. Then, tell me where youwant me to sleep tonight, Morgan.Either the north road is getting harder,or I m getting old.My spine doesn t take as kindly to these forays. No one s does, Morgan said tartly. And yes, we re getting old, theboth of us.They coddle me because of this. She slapped her left thigh,where the leg was gone below the knee. I could tell them, I can still ride ahorse as well as I ever did, and I shoot a damned sight straighter, becauseit s the one warrior skill I can still practice! But I let the buggers coddle me,Rogue, because there s days when my foot aches [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]