Scarlet and the White Wolf [01] - Scarlet and the White Wolf (12 page)

And then he had tried his latest trick. When Liall hauled the hay-covered pedlar out of the wagon, he wisely resisted the urge to double over in laughter, for the pedlar's pride was already dented. The youth reminded him of someone he used to know: a hot-tempered boy who never took no for an answer and did precisely what everyone told him he could not do. A boy who had no respect for authority and no inkling of how much his reckless nature kept his mother up at night.

You lost that boy, Liall reminded himself, and wondered if that was the real reason he pressed the pedlar to accept his invitation. There was an Rshani legend of an enchanted mirror that showed only the past and ensnared all who gazed within, until one day a young man with no memory looked into the mirror and broke the charm. Truly, he thought, a man without memory might count himself blessed. Regret is a persistent hound.

The pedlar—no,
Scarlet-
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recalled his pride and withdrew. Liall was in favor of pride, until having it did a man more ill than good. Scarlet worried him. Liall believed the boy was putting up a bold front to show that he would not be intimidated, and was not really as intemperate or impetuous as he appeared. He had mentioned a man: the soldier of the crimson vine. Perhaps it was the soldier who put him up to it?

He whistled for Peysho as he continued to watch Scarlet stride down the mountain path, and the big man came jogging up and winked at him with his crimson eye. Liall did not give him a chance to speak: Peysho could be an unmerciful tease.

"What was the last news we had of Cadan?"

Peysho blinked. "Cadan? I heard that rotted bastard got himself killed down in the Bled. Why?"

"Just a hunch," he said absently, watching the slender line of Scarlet's body.

Peysho's sudden grin was wide and eager. "Fucker used to jibe me for my bloody eye. Bet he's jibing at himself, now, eh?"

Liall frowned. He did not like to be reminded of how he had scarred Cadan's face, or of how he disposed of the bodies of the three women Cadan had murdered. That is in the past, he told himself uneasily, and the past never changes. "It was not a thing I enjoyed," he said. "He had to be punished, so I punished him. Nothing more."

Peysho shrugged. "No argument from me on that account.

Never did see a man who liked to hurt as much as him. I was glad to see the back of him. Ye did right, Wolf."

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He nodded slowly as the bright smudge of Scarlet's red hood disappeared below the ridge. "I know, but I should have settled it better."

"What, ye mean go easy on him?"

"No," he sighed. "I should have finished him." He thought for a moment. "Maybe you should send Kio down to Lysia tomorrow, have him sniff around for news of a scarred officer in the Byzan army."

"Officer? Couldn't be him," Peysho scoffed. "He ent that smart."

"It's the regular Aralyrin army, not the royal one. You don't have to be smart to get a commission there, just brutal and clever at hiding it, and he was that."

"Well, I have my doubts, but I'll do as y'say. And if it's him?"

"If it is him, I won't make the same mistake twice. But forget him for now. I need to speak with you about a matter."

Liall regarded Peysho with a calculating eye. "Not here. I'll meet you in my yurt at dusk."

"Why not mine?"

"Kio is there."

Peysho was shrewd enough to take his meaning. Liall knew the man would make his appearance early and alone. Peysho left uneasily.

* * * *

True to Liall's expectations, just as the rim of the sun dipped under the peak of the Nerit, Peysho's boots were on the mat outside his yurt. Liall offered him wine and Peysho 101

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sat heavily on a pile of pillows and tried not to look as uncomfortable as he felt.

Peysho took the silver cup from his host—treasure from some passing merchant—and glanced around him in an effort at courtesy. "Nice rug," he said, deadpan.

"A fine weave," Liall agreed. "Try the wine."

He set the cup aside. "The wine is fuckin' lovely, I'm sure.

Now, what in all Deva's bleeding hells is this about?"

Liall smiled. "You took the long way around the river to say
that,
I see." Peysho glowered at him and Liall chuckled.

"Forgive me for having fun with you, old friend. It's not easy, what I have to say, and so I thought..." he shrugged. "I've been told I have no tact."

Unexpectedly, Peysho's gaze went long and he stared resolutely at the wall of the tent. "Ye will be askin' me and Kio to move on, then?"

Liall was genuinely shocked. "What makes you say that?"

"I thought," Peysho began. "Well, and not every man in the krait is happy that ye've put Kio in charge of the fighters.

Ye remember when ye put me in charge of runnin' the line, and the men had to answer to me fer any tolls or treasure? I had to fight five men that week."

So that was it. According to krait law, any man could be deposed from his position if he was not strong enough to hold it. Promoting Peysho to enforcer had been a risky move, but the man had acquitted himself well and earned great respect among the Kasiri. Putting Kio in as captain over the fighters had not yet caused any great amount of trouble, but Liall 102

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suspected this was because most of the men were afraid of Peysho and knew of the bond the two men shared.

Liall took a sip of wine to stall. This would want a delicate hand. "And you're aware that it's not so much you they object to as Kio?" Liall had heard the pointed grumblings about Kio and ignored them, for his word was law in the krait, but only so far. The Kasiri could like his choice or not, but if any man decided to challenge Kio, that would be Kio's business alone.

So that is why he looked so alarmed when I ordered him to come alone, Liall thought. He assumed I wanted to spare him the shame of being banished from the krait in front of Kio.

"Forgive me," Liall said slowly. "Even after all these years, I sometimes forget that I am not in my own country." He set his wine cup down and chose his words carefully. "A man's bed is his concern and no one else's. Where you love is your own business. In my land, no one would give your choice a second thought."

The enforcer brightened a little. "Fer true?"

"Truly."

Peysho looked deep into his cup for a long moment and then drank thoughtfully. The fire popped lazily and the smell of wood smoke grew stronger before the vent carried it away.

Liall knew that Peysho must have been rethinking the future plans he had been making all afternoon. He was saddened that he had put his friend through misery without need. At last, Peysho sighed and set his drink aside.

"We ent got it so easy in Morturii. Things are different there. I could almost envy yer land, cold an' all."

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"Is this," Liall made a vague gesture, "why you had to leave Morturii?"

"Not me, but Kio. He was a soldier once, same as me. I was his commandin' officer. Fool lad got caught on his knees in the barracks one night. Civilians are one thing, and what's done in town ent spoken of in the field, but soldiers are forbidden to know each other like that.
Morale
and all that, they say. The generals believe it weakens the ranks." He snorted to show his disdain of that notion and went on: "Well, they sent the other lad to a floggin', but Kio's from a good family, poor but thought well of, so they sent word up t' the headquarters, askin' what should be done about him. We waited two days to hear back, and in that time the other lad took fever in his wounds and died of it. Kio was scared to death, thinkin' he was bound for the same fate, and me ... I was too close to the matter to see clear."

Peysho shrugged his broad shoulders uncomfortably, and Liall recalled he had scars there; old ones faded almost silver with long age.

"We got the word back, and it was bad. Not only floggin', but a brand as well. Right 'ere." Peysho touched the center of his forehead. "Turned out Kio's family has an enemy in the army, and they saw their opportunity and took it. I went straight to his cell and knocked his guards out with a stone.

Broke one o' their pates, I found out later, and he died from it, so I was a marked man, too, after that. No matter, we were both done for. The Morturii army takes a dim view of
sekeche."

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It was a crude insult, taken from the lowest of brothels; a word for a man who puts his mouth on another man.

"Do not say such things."

"Oh, I claim the title," Peysho said, showing Liall his rough grin, "if not the shame. Kio's a good man. He's a devil with a knife, he is, but when we're alone he's so ... he's gentle and true and ... and t'think someone would
punish
him for..." He broke off in disgust and reached for his cup again. His other big hand rested on his knee, clenched into a tight fist. Liall was quiet in respect, filling Peysho's cup as he calmed himself. Liall refilled his own cup and took a long drink before he spoke again.

"Listen to me, Peysho. I have had news from the north."

That perked him up. "Yer own people? Deva's hells!"

Liall reminded him of the Minh messenger and the box he had carried over so many leagues. "There was a swan feather inside. Among my people, this is a message to return at once."

"But ye ent heard from yer family for years," he scoffed.

"Ye don't mean to desert the krait?"

There was fear there, the wolf cub's dread that the pack was not strong enough to meet its enemies on even ground, or the soldier's worry for a missing general.

"I do not mean to abandon them right away," Liall assured. "Yet, I must go eventually. I have no choice. And so, I plan to leave the krait in your care, Peysho. You will be atya in my place."

Peysho set his wine down quickly before he spilled it.

"Me?"

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"It is my right under krait law, is it not? The men will not be shocked, even if you are. As for Kio, well, we all have our hurdles. There will be words, I'm sure, and some of the men may challenge you or him or both, so think carefully before you agree."

Peysho was a seasoned soldier and accustomed to abrupt shifts in fortune. Liall saw him absorb the facts and weigh them soundlessly in his head.

"When will ye come back?"

Liall shrugged and wondered at the feel of his own body, the weight of it, like one millstone had been shifted off him and another put on.

"It is doubtful I will even reach Norl Udur alive, much less be able to return," he said, switching the true name of his land for the more common one his country was known by in Morturii. "A single journey there and straight back would take almost a year, and I have many old and powerful enemies who will try very hard to make sure that I never set foot on my own soil. Also, if I am fortunate enough to survive, I do not know how long I will be required to stay. It could be years before I return to Byzantur. Most likely, it will be never."

Peysho nodded slowly, accepting that truth as well. His rugged face was pinched with sadness. "Ye have my blessing, and the blessin' of any gods I've ever prayed to. Ye're the best man I've ever known, Wolf. The fairest and the most noble."

Liall pushed his arm. "Stop that. You'll have me wailing like an old grandfather in his cups."

He grinned. "Want some salt t' go with those tears?"

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Crying in the beer, he meant. They laughed together and then wandered out onto the platform outside, both to escape the smoky interior of the yurt and to watch the jeweled stars emerge from the red curtain of dusk.

There was much to do, many plans to be made. Liall rested his palm on the ball of Peysho's shoulder as they silently watched the changeable sky shift hues into night.

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6.

Grandma Goes Up the Mountain

Scaja opted to spare his feelings and said nothing when Scarlet showed up on the doorstep, slapping snow from his boots. Linhona quietly set another plate at the table and went to hang out laundry. Scarlet was too unsettled to dwell on what anyone else thought, being consumed with thoughts of his own.

Liall might be a wolf, but he was not the common bandit Scarlet had taken him for. There was something strange about him and his Kasiri, something strange in all of them, even in Peysho, who looked as fearsome as a Bled warrior but carried crockery without complaint. Or perhaps, he thought sullenly, you just never knew a Kasiri before.

Scarlet could not help remembering how Liall had looked when he was hauled out of the wagon to face the atya: tall and imposing and clearly expecting even the trees to bow down to him, and the sun and moon to rise and set at his orders. Despite Liall's accent, his speech was cultured and clear. Even when he was behaving like a villain, he draped that veil of manners over the whole lot, just like the court dandies at Rusa were trained to do. Not for the first time, Scarlet wondered where Liall was from. Nemerl was a large world, he knew, and Byzantur only a small part of it, but what people had such dark coloring of skin and such dead-white hair? None he had ever heard of. He marveled that such a strange man had decided to dwell in Byzantur.

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He put his questions to Scaja that night as they brought in the wood before supper. "You've seen him. What did you think?"