Nor Iron Bars A Cage (10 page)

Tobin laughed. “I’ve heard more heart-felt cursing, but not classier. Can I help now?”

I threw the bridle at him. He caught it, shook it straight with one practiced motion and moved to Cricket’s head. I stepped back and pretended I liked having Tobin waiting on me. He saddled quickly, with a smack at Cricket’s belly to keep him from bloating under the girth, and then handed the reins to me.

“Aren’t you going to lift me on?” I grumbled. “And set my feet into the stirrups? What kind of groom are you?”

“I’m not the groom here, I’m the commander,” he returned. “Mount up.”

“Some commander.” I made it into the saddle on the second try. My thighs were already declaring mutiny. “Reduced to bossing around one cripple. What a comedown for you.”

“Stop!” He wheeled Darkwind so the stallion’s shoulder came against Cricket’s, forcing me to cling on to the saddle as my mount sidestepped.

I glared at him. “What’s the matter with you?”

“You’re not a cripple.”

I waved my hand under his nose. “This says I am.”

“A cripple is someone who can’t work. Someone reduced to living on his lord’s dole, or begging at the gate. You work. You earn a living. You tend a garden and write and cook and live a life.”

I paused, a lump in my throat. But what I said was, “Not anymore.” I turned Cricket abruptly for the slope toward the lane.

We made it down the hill with no more than a scramble or two on the loose scree. Tobin let me go ahead at first, but at the main road he pushed Darkwind forward. Perforce, I watched his rigid back as he rode his horse out into a steady lope. Cricket tossed his head against my pull on the reins, and I gave in and let him speed up to follow. His smooth gait rocked me, but my body still protested. I muttered a few of those creative curses at Tobin, as we rode out through the bright morning.

When we’d cantered a stretch, Tobin reined back and dropped us to a walk. I gave Cricket loose reins and he lowered his head, snatching at a plant here and there to munch as we went along. I decided, since Tobin would have to clean the tack, I’d let my horse have his fun. Tobin glanced back. “You’re teaching him bad habits.”

“Seems like he came with this one.”

Tobin sighed and fell back alongside me. “If you’re a cripple, lion-boy, then so am I.”

I snorted.

“Seriously.” He slapped his left knee. “If you look under here I have plenty of ugly scars. And I can’t do the job I was born to. So if that’s your definition, then it fits me too. By my measure, though, it doesn’t fit either of us.”

He was trying to be kind, but it made me furious. “Are you seriously comparing that to this?” I waved my claw again. “You hardly even limp. So you walk a bit slower and had to stop killing people. That did what? Made you change jobs? But everything that needs doing in life seems to require two good hands. Try a day with one wrist tied behind your back and see how you get on. And then tell me how alike we are.”

“I might just do that sometime, to understand you better.” Then he grinned at me. “Although I can think of one or two important things that can be done with just one hand.” He raised an eyebrow at me, and ran his hand slowly from his knee up his thigh.

For the first time in gods knew how long, my body responded to that thought. Springing wood in the saddle of a horse, when your body already hurts like damnation, is not the fun you might take it to be. I shifted uncomfortably, and glared at him some more.

He managed not to laugh.

We rode on in silence. Eventually he said, “There was a Sergeant in my company, a big brawny man. He took an axe-blow to his left arm, lost the hand completely. I sent him to my brother when he was healed. Last I heard, he was running the manor farm, and production was nearly doubled on his watch. I doubt they consider him a cripple either.”

 “Shut up,” I said, but there wasn’t much heat in it.

Getting through the morning’s ride was hard, and getting back on the horse after lunch almost impossible. Tobin offered a boost, several times. It was only the thought of avoiding his hands on my leg or my ass that helped me get myself onboard in the end. Well, that and a large rock. We set out into the warming afternoon, riding through open fields and light-dappled woodlands. We passed a few other travelers. When someone did come along, I hung back behind Tobin and let him make all the conversation with strangers. I’d forgotten how to do that.

Once my legs were numb, it was almost like a holiday again to be riding out with Tobin. His manner was easy, as if none of our hard words had happened. He took it easier on me that afternoon, too, probably out of necessity. We alternated cantering and walking, with only one stretch of trotting. And that was payback for my calling him
The King’s Crystal-sucking Lips.
He stopped as soon as I called time though, and his laugh was a pleasant one. “I know. What a symbol, eh? That mouth wrapped around a finger of quartz. I do wonder at the mage who made them. Either he was an oblivious monk, a twisted old man, or a joker.”

“You’d think the king might change it. Even a round crystal in place of the long one would look better.”

“Hallowed tradition. I’ve heard that once upon a time, the medallions were bespelled by the Kings’ Mages, so the king could actually speak through them somehow. I’m not entirely sorry that spell’s been lost. Hanging magic around my neck wouldn’t be my first choice. But no matter how much they look like a cocksucker, they’re antique symbols and no one will change them now.”

“You like it though? Your new job?”

“I do.” He shrugged. “I get to ride, see the country, serve my king. And all without killing anyone. In truth, although the leg made me quit, a dozen years on the battlefields had already quite quenched my thirst for the blood of our enemies. Nothing out there is ever as clear-cut as it seems in the history books.”

“Do you ever want to settle down?” I asked slowly. “Find a home?”

“The thought’s occurred, now and then. But walls alone don’t make a home. It’s what’s inside them.”

“For me the walls were what counted. Oh, the books are good, and a bed and a bath. But not essential.”

He looked at me steadily. “I misspoke. I meant, it’s
who’s
inside them that counts.”

“Waiting for the right man, then.” I kept my tone academic.

“Yes.”

“Tell me about King Faro,” I said quickly. “What’s he like? His father was still king when I was in the capital, and by the time news of Faro’s coronation and deeds reached my village it was often a bit bent around the edges.”

Tobin smiled. But he took up the topic, giving me a word-picture of our young king. Tobin clearly liked and respected him. Faro was only a couple years older than we were, but he’d spent time in every branch of his father’s service before inheriting the throne.

A practical man, according to Tobin, and a shrewd one. Less ambitious than his father. “He wants to keep his nation safe but not to expand it. Right now, our borders have natural defenses, in the mountains to the east and north and the river on the south, the ocean west. The old king kept trying to push further into the mountains, but Faro was smart enough to make peace there.”

“So things are quiet?” My village was far enough from the borders that affairs of nations rarely came to our attention, even if my news hadn’t mostly come via a fourteen-year-old with more interest in cows than kings.

“I wouldn’t say quiet. The nomads in Icefeld test the northern borders, most autumns. And there’s a new Prince Regent in R’gin that His Majesty has us keeping an eye on. They like to start foreign wars over there, to distract the nobles from mismanagement at home.”

“But we have the mountains between us,” I pointed out, “And the mountain tribes, who don’t like us or the R’gin. Surely they won’t look our way.” Of course a study of history and languages made me very aware that our ancestors and the R’ginads had flowed through those mountains back and forth over the centuries. And sometimes even taken to ships and sailed around the peninsula, or crossed the broad southern marshes of Canan to meet in battle.

“They might give it another try, if they’re looking for a fight. Faro’s only been king three years, while the king in Canan is long established and very well garrisoned. They might even see our new treaty with the tribes as indication of weakness. Who knows?”

I shivered. Some of the ancient tales of battles with the R’gin were quite graphic. They believed a warrior gained strength from each man they killed in battle, and took fierce pride in their skills. They took no prisoners and left no wounded behind on the battlefield. There was a time I might have imagined that last detail a kindness, putting the wounded out of their misery, but Tobin was right, curse him. However hard it was to live crippled, I was beginning to believe it could be better than being dead.

Tobin said reminiscently, “I was in R’gin once.”

“You were? When?”

“After the leg. It was healing slowly, and I guess I was driving everyone around me crazy. Or so the king claimed.” There was a little smile on Tobin’s lips that for some reason annoyed me, but I just nodded. “So he said I might as well recover while doing something useful. He sent me by boat, all the way around the peninsula. Two weeks going there, with the wind. Almost four coming back beating against it.”

“Why did he send you?”

“To meet a man.” Tobin sighed. “Where there are kings and hostile borders, there are spies. This was a man I’d known, one of my riding instructors actually, from when I was young. He was dark-complexioned enough to pass as a R’gin. Apparently, he’d been sent there years before and managed to work his way into their army command. But he’d sent word he had a problem.”

“So the king dispatched you to R’gin? While you were injured?”

“The man had gotten married and had two small sons over there. He wanted to send his family home before he was discovered. I don’t know how close the hunt was on his heels, but he asked that someone he knew come get them, as proof that it was safe for them. All I had to do was show up. On a boat, no less. That was about my speed at the time. I wasn’t fit for any active duty.” There was an edge of bitterness in Tobin’s voice that made me think giving up his position in the cavalry had been less easy than he led me to believe.

To distract him, I asked, “What was R’gin like?”

“Well, I barely set foot on shore, and even that was in a remote spot far away from anything interesting. It wasn’t so different from our own coastline. A little less rocky, a little more lush with trees, at least in that spot.”

“So you met the man?”

“Yes. Took his wife and children onboard, gave him money.”

“He
stayed behind
?”

“He said he had something important yet to do. I couldn’t dissuade him.” Tobin’s mouth twisted. “I brought the family back to Riverrun, under royal protection.” He hesitated, then added, “I heard the R’gin caught and executed him, eventually. But the boys are safe in the capital. I visit them sometimes.”

I winced.

“It was his choice, and I think… I think, whatever he was up to, he never hoped to outlive it. I saw his eyes when he kissed his wife goodbye…” Tobin gave a little snort. “And isn’t that a cheerful story for you. Never say I don’t know how to liven the atmosphere. Shall we canter a bit?”

He sent Darkwind surging forward without waiting for my answer. As I reluctantly set my knees in the saddle and let Cricket follow suit, I thought that it had been a good reminder, actually. I should recall that Tobin hadn’t been sitting home eating cream cakes while I was facing my own demons. He knew something of pain himself, and not just the pain of a sword-wound.

That night, we stopped in a village to buy a hot meal at an inn, but without comment Tobin had the horses resaddled and we rode another hour on before finding a place to camp. I let him set up again, and light the fire, while I stayed on my aching legs long enough to brush down the horses. Cricket rubbed against me, coating my chest with black hairs. Darkwind slobbered on my sleeve and tried to eat my hair.

“He thinks it’s straw.” Tobin was closer than I thought. “It’s the color of wheatfields still. I thought it might darken with age.”

“It’s just hair,” I said. “I’m surprised it didn’t all go grey.”

“I’m very pleased that it didn’t.”

I turned to Tobin, putting the bulk of his horse at my back. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Would it bother you if I was?”

“Yes.” I said firmly. Then, “Maybe.”

“You let me know when you decide.” He walked away to add wood to the fire.

“Your master’s crazy,” I told Darkwind, perhaps loud enough for Tobin to hear. “What on the green earth does he ever think he’ll get from me?”

Darkwind blew softly against my neck. It was no kind of answer.

****

It took us three more days to reach the capital. Until we hit the Coolrapids bridge, I’d actually come to enjoy the trip. Nights were still not much fun. I woke often, rarely screaming, more frequently just panting with fears I couldn’t even name, sometimes frozen in place like a bird under the eye of a snake. Tobin always woke too, even when I thought I was silent. He would put another branch on the fire, or hand me a canteen, but he asked no questions, and I didn’t tell him more. So nights weren’t good.

But mornings were fine, coming out of a hazy doze to know that a day of riding was ahead. A day of sunshine, of wide-ranging conversations and easy silences. As my body became used to the routine, I had more energy for debate, and we sparred over the usefulness of the military and the best methods of taxation. Tobin was a lord’s son, not just a simple soldier, and although his education didn’t match my own, he’d become shrewder than I remembered. What I knew in theory, he’d sometimes seen in practice.

So the bridge took me by surprise. We were arguing about whether it made sense for the crown to set up separate hostels for injured soldiers, or to let them depend on the charity of the Sisters of Bian. I said, “Any time you create two similar systems side by side, there’s going to be waste. It makes more sense for the king to just give money to the Sisters directly.” I looked past Tobin and noticed the familiar arch of the bridge come into view. And fell off my horse.