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Ahira was already on the back of his small gray mare, and as I walked through
the wide doors, Tennetty swung up to the saddle of a nervous black gelding
with a white blaze across his face, and kicked him into a clomp past the
lanterns and out into the dark of the courtyard.
Andrea folded a blanket neatly across, twice, and set it down on the flatbed's
seat before climbing on.
"Let's go," she said, patting the seat next to her.
Doria, still in her purple evening dress, looked at me, pursed her lips and
shrugged. "Take care of yourself, Walter," she said. Her fingers kneaded my
shoulders for just a moment, and then she kissed me gently on the lips. "Watch
out, eh?"
"For who?" I shot her a prizewinning smile she didn't return.
"All of you," she said. "Particularly Andrea."
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* * *
I didn't know how things were going to break with Aeia hell, I didn't know how
I wanted them to break until I heard myself saying, "Walk me to the gate the
rest of them will catch up in a moment."
I caught the dwarf's eye; I spread the fingers of one hand wide for a moment.
Give me five minutes, okay?
He repeated the gesture and nodded.
Not six, that meant.
Aeia and I walked out of the stables and into the dark. I could almost feel
hostile eyes on my back, and wondered what window Bren Adahan was looking down
from. Torches ringing the keep crackled in the still air, sending clouds of
dark smoke into the dark sky. Above, a gazillion stars stared back at us,
hanging intently on our every motion, every word. Or maybe not.
She was still wearing the Melawei-inspired outfit she had worn to dinner; I
mentally worked at the complicated knot at her left hip.
"You're scared about this," Aeia said.
"Always am." And that was true enough. "Wake up scared in the morning, go to
bed scared at night."
She laughed, a warm, coppery sound like a carefully bowed cello. "You couldn't
have persuaded me of that when I was a little girl. My Uncle Walter scared?
Nothing could scare my Uncle Walter, any more than . . ." she grasped at the
air, looking for the right analogy, ". . . it could scare my father."
I chuckled. "Well, half right. Karl was too dumb to be scared."
She took my hand and we walked in silence, holding hands like a couple of
schoolkids. "Just a couple of days?"
I shrugged. "Probably. Could be a few more. Or things could really heat up and
we might be gone for awhile. You never know." It was like in the old raiding
days, when a team would head out on the road, looking for trouble, usually
finding it in the form of a slaver caravan. Slavers have to move the property
around, particularly new property. People have a tendency to form
relationships with other people, even if they own them. Bad for their
business.
I never really liked those days, back when I was seconding Karl. Yes, there
was a certain something to them; the parts that Karl didn't participate in
were often kind of nice. See, not all of the folks we freed over the years
were men. Some of them, quite a few, were women, and some of those were more
than a little attractive. It's amazing how grateful a woman can be when you've
just freed her, and often spectacular how she'll show her gratitude. You could
ask my wife about that.
Besides, the money was good.
But . . .
"Bren's asked me to go with him over to Little Pittsburgh," she said. "What do
you think I should do?"
"Little Pittsburgh's an interesting place," I said. "A bit dirty and sooty,
but interesting."
"That wasn't what I meant."
"I know." Her hand was warm in mine. "You meant that we're going to have to
make a decision sometime," I said. "Bren won't wait forever. Kirah won't
not-see forever. We're going to have to decide what we are."
She nodded. "You can add that I won't wait forever. But I wasn't asking for
forever, I wasn't asking about eventually. I was asking for now. What are we
to be now, Walter Slovotsky?"
I rubbed my thumb against the softness of her hands. "Friends, at least."
She stiffened and let go of my hand, and touched herself above the waist at
the right side. The air between us chilled, and I remembered Aeia holding a
rifle straight, cheek welded to stock, squeezing the trigger gently, ignoring
the red wetness spreading across the right side of her waist.
"Comrades-in-arms," she said, her voice holding a trace of that Cullinane
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coldness. "At least."
"Of course." I gestured an apology. "Always," I said.
The coldness broke into a smile. "Better." She put her hands on my face and
kissed me hard.
* * *
As we rode through the gate, Andy started to say something but caught herself.
Just as well.
CHAPTER FIVE
In Which I Ride at Night, and Rediscover What
a Pain in the Ass It Is
I will not give sleep to my eyes, or slumber to my eyelids.
PROVERBS 132:4
Riding down a country road in the dark was interesting at first. Ahead, the
road curved and bent, twisting gently through fields and past villages, as the
horses clopped through the dark, the rhythm of their hooves always in awkward
syncopation; someday, I'm going to get a string of horses with matching
strides.
It was dark, but not cloudy; the stars above shone their pale light over the
landscape, turning it all delicate shades from the palest of whites to a rich,
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