chapter two

Lida's voice cut through the tiresome wailing like an answer to a prayer. "Enough, Garth. I can't take any more of this."

Garth immediately set down his skewer, rose, and approached their distraught prisoner. The incessant, inarticulate moans which had been their constant companion for the past two hours vanished once the wild-haired, wide-eyed man saw Garth pull his knife. His cries were reduced to sniffles as he watched in wonderful, silent, mute fascination. As Garth had noticed earlier, he seemed to comprehend very little that went on around him, though a wider pair of eyes he'd never seen. The knife flashed red as it crossed a beam of fading sunlight. Poor, miserable wretch.

They had been able to get a large, white shirt around him, which all but swallowed his modest frame, but pants had been out of the question. The man was oblivious to reason, communication, and even his own indecency. He had kicked like a demon, and was never quite subdued until Garth punched him in the belly. Seeing Lida tossed to the ground like a doll, he would have done more, much more, had she not called him off. As it was, the man had resisted every attempt to put any kind of leggings on him. So they finally settled on one of Garth's spare shirts, which seemed to hang low enough to function as a sort of dress. That, it seemed, was about as decent as this madman was going to get.

Upon his release, he stared intently at his wrists, rubbing them alternately, first left, then right, intent on every move. He might as well have been alone in the woods just then. And, Garth guessed, in his tilted mind he must have been. He recoiled with a start at Garth's offered waterskin, tripped over the stump where he had been seated and vanished legs-up into the brush. Snorts and laughter rippled around the small ring of soldiers, happy at last to see their prisoner's transformation from tormentor to entertainer. There was a minor rustle from the bracken behind the stump, a strangely contented sigh, and the bloody, bare feet came to rest on the edge of the stump. Garth released his grip on his hilts and sat back down. Menna Pance was probably the fastest sprinter in all of Sid. Even now, from across the circle, her eyes were on those sad feet. She'd be on him in a flash if he tried to escape. Garth returned to his skewer and placed the rabbhit meat back over the low fire. Nobody spoke, and Garth aimlessly chewed on a hunk of dry colbread.

The Lady Lida had no meat of her own in the fire, no bread in hand. She rose, rubbing her left shoulder. "Dens, after dinner, if our captive sleeps, see what you can do to clean and cover his feet. It seems a long time he's been out in the woods without care or comfort. If he wakes," and here her amber eyes flickered, "I'd prefer you try wine to force, if reason won't keep him still." She turned to Garth. "Garth, a word, please?"

Garth rose quickly and followed her into the wood. She took them several paces down the path before stopping at a turn. The ground fell swiftly to the left, and she settled down on an overturned log facing the dropoff and rested her white arms on her knees, and her chin above all. She made no gesture for Garth to join her, although there was ample room, so he remained standing. He looked around them out of habit, saw the light of the fire was low and near, and looked back at Lida. Darkness was falling swiftly.

"Those were the first, Garth. I've never..." She looked up at him. Her tears shone with a light all their own. It occurred to Garth that, in the face of a Krysli, that may be no trick of the light. She did not finish her sentence. She did not sob or weep audibly. She just sat there with a look of wringing pain wrinkling her features, as luminescent tears streamed quietly down her cheek. Looking up at Garth, not for answers but as an admission. It broke his heart.

He became as familiar then with the Lady as he'd yet been, crouching down and placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder - briefly. "You've never what, milady?" He hoped she could see his heartfelt smile in the gathering gloom, searching himself for some way to stem the flow of her tears. He had no kerchief to offer, so instead he hurriedly untied his sel scarf and handed it to her. She raised her face and sat up, nodding her thanks. Idly, she dabbed at her cheeks, eyes elsewhere.

She looked directly into his eyes then. And he realized then that he would do anything for those eyes. "Killed." She turned away, staring further south around the bend in the path. "Men. People." Her hand dropped, scarf trailing to the forest floor. "Lives." Her face contorted hopelessly, and this time she could not hold back a sob as her shining tears rekindled. Her shoulders shook and she lowered her face in shame. Garth knew that, propriety be damned, he should hug her close, and offer whatever comfort a soldier could. But propriety was never damned for Garth Vencher. He waited helplessly, until she took his hand.

"Garth," she pleaded, "You've killed before. You're a soldier. You've taken so many lives. How...?" She finished her sentence with shining, wet eyes and upturned gaze.

"Milady, I've never killed -"

Lida interjected, "- a man who didn't deserve it. I know, I know. Everybody knows. But how do you know? How could you? These people have lives and dreams and passions of their own. Could they truly all deserve to die? How many, Garth? How many have you killed? How can you be so sure?"

"It's in the eyes, milady." Garth was unsure how to proceed. Words always failed him when describing the heat of battle, which is why he typically refrained. "You can see much in a man's eyes. It takes no time at all." He paused briefly, reflecting on those few occasions when his opponents' eyes had been hidden behind full battle helmets. But that was another matter. "You can see how willing he is to fight, to die, or to flee. You can offer him the chance to make his choice with but the faintest of gestures. All soldiers know these things. Few I've met seem inclined to use this knowledge to prevent bloodshed. I've spared," he swallowed, "almost as many as I've killed." Usually, this meant a quick blow from the flat of his blade to the enemy's weapon hand, followed by a pointed direction to leave the field. Everyone but Garth seemed amazed that this ever worked. Not once in seven years had an opponent so treated taken that opportunity to attack; and very few had failed to quit the field, much to the consternation and dismay of their fellow soldiers and commanders. "Sometimes it takes a moment to catch their eye. Take that fellow today." Lida looked at him blankly. Anything at all for those eyes. "There was a Godian who made it clear of the..." he paused, searching for the proper sensitivity, "blazing trees. He seemed ready to die as I closed, but something in his eyes made me go wide, giving him a chance, if he was fast enough, to dodge my blow. I wasn't sure, you see." This didn't sound very convincing, Garth thought. "So I turned to offer him the chance to stand down. Then our archers shot him in the back. I wish they hadn't."

Lida lowered her eyes in understanding, and a silver lock swept across her face. "One can't hold others to one's own individual standards."

Garth nodded, pleased to see that she was responding. "Not on the battlefield, not in the heat of the moment." Lida remained silent. "Milady, you gave the order. You put yourself in the position to... to strike first. You set the tone, and these soldiers followed your example. Why take their lives, if it troubles you so? Did you think," He looked around, searching for the right words. This wasn't what he was trying to say. Why was it coming out this way?

"Did I think I'd enjoy it?" But it was only her voice that was biting. She brushed back her hair with a scornful flick of her wrist, but her eyes remained grateful for this opportunity to deal with her newfound demons. "No. I know better. Knew better. Yet they were trying to kill me. If we hadn't received warning, I'd soon be dead or dying at their hands." She stood up now, and Garth stood with her, retreating a respectful step back. "But we are not at war! Not formally! And I am one of the most vocal critics of our government's policy towards Godii. Why would they dare? Why such a risk for a target such as I? Am I not one of the few allies they have in the Council?" She started walking further down the path, away from the camp, without waiting to see if Garth would follow. Garth followed.

"I guess that above all, I felt betrayed. I let this power take hold of my temper. What should have been a minor volley to confuse and intimidate became instead a terrible rush of fire. So bright, I didn't even see them all die." She stopped and turned to face Garth, and fixed him with her gaze. Garth was momentarily reminded of the terrible brilliance of that first blast in the clearing.

"I was high above them, raining down a death they could not sidestep, Garth. I did not have the luxury of looking any of them in the eyes. I could not be sure whether any were good, honest men. So I ask again: how can you be sure, if a man's eyes and actions of the moment are your only guide?" There was no mockery in her voice, which had steadied noticeably. Just an honest question. "How can you be sure of your claim?"

It merited an honest answer. "I can't, milady. I can only do my best. I can't know everything. But to hesitate too long on the battlefield is to fall on the battlefield, another dead soldier who thought too much. The fact that I hesitate at all, well, many wouldn't call it wisdom. More like a liability borne of arrogance, kind of like the archer who puts a blindfold on before aiming for his target." He managed a grim smile. "Until I retire for good into the easy life of the Council Guard, that is." Lida smiled at this. "Even then," and Garth's smile had no choice but to fade, in light of the day's events, "even then, it would seem... needlessly reckless, I suppose."

He realized then that they had let themselves walk out of sight of the fire. Garth hadn't asked The Lady yet, but he himself favored another short march before camping for the night. They'd better get back.

Lida seemed immune to such minor concerns, wrestling still with the fact that she had recently butchered several enemy soldiers. "But we have to try. We are no better than General Graeme, or any Godiian commander, if we do not at least try to spare life when it might be spared." She stopped, faced Garth and put a firm, slender hand on his shoulder. "Today, I spared no one."

"Milady, you did what you had to do. What only you could have done. You allowed eight soldiers to repel an enemy raid consisting of over twice their number. With no casualties. Could our hastily-arranged party really manage fourteen or fifteen enemy captives? We can scarcely manage the crazy man! Any sensible commander would have done the same, had they but a Krysli among their ranks. Do not let the fact that you were in the unique position of being the hammer and the hand that swung it trouble you needlessly." Garth was extremely pleased with how well the words were serving him just then. Rare. "Think instead that perhaps this raid was meant to capture a live Krysli to be transported to Godii for study and interrogation. That seems likely to me." He paused. "Milady, forgive me, but we need to get back now. It's for your safety."

The Lady Lida made no sign of acknowledging Garth's warning, simply turning in mid-stride and walking at just the same thoughtful pace back towards the campsite. She turned a sidelong glance at him. "A forceful reply, then, was the best possible reply?"

"The only possible reply, I'd say. In this instance, you bore the weight of command, milady. Commanders can't indulge in my kind of fair play. The sheer numbers and associated risks are just too large. In the end," great, he thought. What happened to sounding reassuring? "... It's kill or be killed."

Someone was charging down the path towards them. Garth stepped deliberately in front of The Lady, squared his shoulders, and -

Pance!

- very nearly skewered Pance in the forest-dark. She collided against his wide chest with a thud. Her upturned eyes were wide and pale. "Wattirump!", she cried between breaths. "Everyone scattered. Prisoner..."

Garth said, "Quiet. Softly now, Menna,", but Lida leaned forward, all but saying, "Yes?"

Pance was nodding now. "... Didn't scatter. Still there." With a practiced effort, she began to regain control of her breathing, even as Garth began loping up the path with his bounding stride. "Mind the Lady, Pance," he hissed back over his shoulder. Wattirump. Large, cat-like beast. Six legs, though only the four on the outside pose any real threat. That and the teeth and the iron jaws behind the teeth, and the fact that said jaws and teeth have a known tendency to relieve a careless traveller's shoulders of their burden. He picked up speed. What was it about the crazy man, anyway? Why do we trouble ourselves so? He stooped and deftly snatched up his scarf, nearly invisible in the darkness, still laying on the ground where The Lady had dropped it. He whipped it back around his neck with his free left hand without breaking stride. Why was Lida so interested in him? He had attacked a Krysli with nothing but a deranged smile on his face, by Ish! Why was he still alive?

He found himself suddenly at the edge of the clearing, almost before he saw it. The fire was nothing but smoking embers. - these soldiers knew their woodcraft. Even by that sparse light, Garth could see that the wattirump was huge. It's shoulders stood nearly as tall as his own, even as it huddled down and ripped through a handful of skillfully tossed supply packs. Skinned rabbhits, leather, minceweed and oil all met their end in that ravenous mouth.

Even by that sparse light, Garth could see the idiot sitting back up on his stump, not a dozen paces away from certain death, chewing aimlessly on someone's discarded rabbhit skewer. He looked... unaffected. Garth tried to get his attention without disturbing the beast. The crazy man looked up, smiled, and waved, rabbhit juice running down his chin.

The following day, Lida Vianna was again her old self. Gone were pensive confessions and argent twilight tears. Returned was her ready, bright smile and easy gait as she dropped back to walk with Garth at the rear of the column. She laughed easily and sincerely as Garth recounted the crazy man's reaction to a near brush with certain death.

"He made no move to escape, showed no sign of fear?"

"Indeed not, milady. He was--"

Lida pressed an unexpected finger against his lips. Garth looked over and drank in her intent gaze. "Pray, Garth, enough formality. Call me Lida."

Garth smiled, and hoped his blush was lost in the ruddy sunlight. They had left the forest behind and now travelled easily across the wide downs south and east of the Citadel. Soon, perhaps by late afternoon, they would reach the eaves of the Magician Randle's forest. "As you wish, Lida." Garth was pleased to find that her name without title rolled easily from his lips. "But no, the crazy man had seeming no knowledge of his danger. Clearly he had never seen a wattirump before, else he would surely have fled, if self-preservation had any meaning for such as he."

Lida was beaming and the sun was losing its luster in Garth's eyes. "Yet you managed to extract him from his plight without disturbing the great beast." It was not a question, but a statement laced with... pride? Admiration? Something which warmed Garth much more than anything for which the morning sun could lay claim.

Garth laughed in his turn. "I am indeed fortunate. It would seem the gesture for 'Sir, excuse me, but come hither at once' has a universal meaning even our strange visitor did recognize. You should have seen him saunter forth, meat still clutched in one hand, even as the beast snarled and continued to ravage our abandoned packs not a dozen paces behind him. One would think I had invited him over for a drink as like as saved his life."

Lida chuckled and Garth was delighted at the sound. They were walking at their ease now, the column several spans ahead, nearly vanished over the crest of the low down. "Refresh my memory, brave Garth, savior of the deranged. What exactly does this universal 'Sir, excuse me but come hither at once' gesture look like?"

Garth stopped and Lida stood now, her back to the rest of their party facing him. She looked... no, of course not. He cleared his throat. "Very well." He reached his hand forward, only now realizing just how close she stood to him, and made the beckoning gesture with mock urgency. "It was indeed--"

And like that, the Lady Lida Vianna, Councilor of Siguard, was in his arms, looking up at him through lidded eyes. "Hmmm." She pursed her lips and then spoke. "Quite compelling, Garth Vencher. Why, I can scarcely refuse you myself."

Garth stammered and stepped back, unsure what to do with a Councilor and lidded eyes in his grasp. "Milady, there is no wattirump behind you. Do you... do you mock me?"

Lida released him from her arms then, tweaking his nose with a deft forefinger as she withdrew. "I never mock, Garth. I respond to strength, and respect the wishes of a Captain of the Honor Guard who so bravely and selflessly volunteers to defend me from harm unlooked for."

Surely she could not be implying... no, surely not. Garth struggled to meet her sharp eyes and say something that would not end in a stutter to match his reeling mind. The implications, the way Lida made him feel when she was so close, this playful manner, such a sharp contrast to her ernest concern the night before. "Randle. The Magician. How long will we be staying with him, milady?"

Lida resumed walking, deliberately slower still. She might have been strolling through a garden back in the citadel rather than the Eastern Marches of Siguard. "Oh, a few days, nothing more." She grimaced. "Any more I could not withstand. He tries me, whenever he has the occasion. I have little patience for games, Garth." She was eyeing him sidelong as they walked beside one another.

Garth tugged at his scarf. "And you still intend to leave this wild man in his care? I still cannot fathom the reason for this. As a soldier, it seems to me he should rather be taken to the citadel, that the riddle of his strange speech, manner, and appearance within our borders might be properly discerned." Garth paused and took in the view from the top of the downs. "Spies abound, in many guises, canny and otherwise."

Lida took in the view at his side. In the distance to the north and west, Garth half-fancied he could make out the beginning of the forest. "Garth, I do not think any could learn his strange tongue. But perhaps he could be taught ours. Randle can care for him and seek to pierce the mystery that surrounds him. I would prefer he be kept safe from the wolves of the Council, and even the wolves of your General's army, at least until he has learned a way to recount his own tale. I do not think he is a spy."

Garth breathed deep, then exhaled. He began walking again. His party of soldiers were mere dots in the distance now. They needed to catch up quickly. Nevermind any danger of attack. Soon they would begin talking about Lida and--

"Garth?" Lida remained at the crest of the down, hair blowing in the breeze, perfectly framed against the sky. Garth returned to her side. Her mouth was open in some semblance of smile and import Garth could not quite discern. "I will require increased security in the wake of this attack. I wonder, how long could the Honor Guard spare its greatest captain and his selvat on my behalf? My Council security detatchment," she looked away and then back, "is not up to the task in my estimation."

She looked almost hungry. Garth's confusion was taking on a life of its own; it was hard enough to breathe this close to Lida, let alone think with clear mind. "I could... well, do you have reason to suspect there will be further moves against you? If so, then a state of personal emergency could fairly be said to persist, and it would be my duty to continue service to you until security was restored, and all threat of danger had passed."

Lida stepped closer now. If Garth wished, he could lean right down and... "You could stay in our guest house. Only for such time as it takes to determine that the Godiian plot against me has truly failed, and there will not be another attempt. I could not--no, would not--trust another half so readily as I already trust you with my safekeeping, Garth." Her eyes were gems of impenetrable depth, with sparkling facets far too many to count. Garth struggled to count them anyway, losing all bearing and sense of time.

When, exactly, had he decided to kiss her? Yet there they were, and she was in his arms, and his heart was... so was hers...

Finally something, some shred of honor, caused him to withdraw, slowly and reluctantly. "Yes, milady. I will remain by your side for as long as you require it of me."