That was essentially what Tarma had said to both of them, a hundred times over; that her job and Daren’s was to learn everything they could about advance planning, to protect those serving with and under them, to keep their casualties to an absolute minimum.
But there are going to be people like bandits, like the Karsites, who don’t care how many people die. People with no conscience, no honor. I know that a lot of folk think mercs don’t have either—but if that’s true, then why the Codes?
It was all beginning to come together, to make a vague sort of sense. She stopped again, and squinted her eyes against the westering sun. There’s always going to be fighting. I can’t see the world turning suddenly peaceful in my lifetime. People of honor have to be a part of that, because if they aren’t, the only ones fighting will be the ones who don’t care, who have no honor, and no concern for how many others die. Right. That’s why I’m doing this. In a funny kind of way, it’s to protect the Diernas and Lordans, the people who would be the victims. Even if I’m getting paid to do it, it’s still protecting them.
Because if all the fighting is done by people with no conscience, there won’t be any safety anywhere for the people who only want peace.
That was the answer she was looking for. She felt tension leaving her, as she turned her back on the setting sun, and headed home with her shadow reaching out before her, black against the blue-tinged snow.
I’m good now, but I have to become very good. Special. So special that I can pick my Company and my Captain, pick someone with a Company so good he can choose when he won’t take a job, because it’s for the wrong side and the wrong causes. Just like Grandmother and Tarma did.
And that was why she wouldn’t give in to Daren, and to what he was offering. The love he was offering came with restrictions, restrictions on what made her unique. If he truly loved what she was, rather than what he thought he saw, he would never have placed those restrictions on her.
And last of all, I don’t love him, she thought soberly. I like him, but that’s not enough.
If she took him up on his offer of marriage, she would be offering him considerably less than true coin. She didn’t love him, she didn’t think she could ever learn to love him. In time, she might even come to hate him for the lie he was making her live.
What if one day he outgrew this infatuation, and found someone he really did love? That would be a tragedy as horrible as anything in any of the romantic ballads. Worse, really; there they’d be, living double lies, and trapped in the agreements they’d made when neither of them was thinking particularly clearly.
What if she found someone?
But that notion made her grin, sardonically. Right. Me in love. About as likely as having my horse decide to talk to me. I may not be she’chorne, but I don’t think there’s been a man born that could be my partner, and I won’t settle for anything less than that.
No, liking Daren was entirely the wrong reason to go through with this charade of his. It would be just as false as putting on a dress and pretending to be something she wasn’t for the sake of appearances.
And it was ironic that the things that made her so different—and that he now deplored—were the things that had attracted him to her in the first place.
If he wants a woman to be different, why does he want her to be the same as every other woman? she asked herself, as she stood just inside the stable door, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dimness inside. Men. Why can’t they ever learn to think logically?
Daren found himself caught between anger and bewilderment. First Kero stormed off and left him standing in the middle of her room, torn between frustration and feeling foolish. He couldn’t understand what was wrong with her; why couldn’t she see that she was going to have to adjust herself to what people expected of her? The world wasn’t going to change just because she was different! He’d offered her something any woman in her right mind—and certainly every single woman at Court—would have pledged her soul to have, and she stormed off because he’d told her the truth of the matter, and how she would have to change.
He waited for her to come to her senses and return, to apologize and take his hands and say she never wanted to fight like that again—
But she didn’t come back, and she didn’t come looking for him after he returned to his own room. Tarma showed up, toward sunset; she looked older, somehow, and he guessed that his father’s death had hit her pretty hard.
“Well,” she said. “It’s official. Faram wants you up there yesterday, so you’d better get yourself packed up. You’ll need to be on the road tomorrow.”
“Will I need an escort?” he asked, a little doubtfully. He didn’t really want one, and a retinue would slow him down.
Tarma shook her head. “I don’t think so. You can take care of yourself quite well, youngling, and if you have any enemies out there, they won’t be looking for one man and his beasts, they’ll be looking for a damned parade.”
He sighed. “Well, I guess this is the end of my stay here. I’ve—not precisely liked it, but—Tarma, I appreciate all you’ve done for me. I can’t really say how much, because I won’t know exactly how much you’ve taught me for years yet.”
She smiled a little. “Then you’re wiser than I thought, if you’ve figured that out. Wise enough to know that you’ll be better off packing up now so you can leave straight away in the morning.”
“Does Kero know I’m leaving tomorrow?” he managed to get out. Tarma looked at him oddly for a moment, then nodded.
“I told her,” the Shin’a’in said, her expression utterly deadpan. “She didn’t say anything. Did you two have a fight?”
He started to tell her what had happened between them, then stopped himself; why, he didn’t really know, unless it was just that he didn’t want anyone else to now about this particular quarrel. “Not really,” he said. “It’s just I haven’t seen her all afternoon....” He let his words trail off so that Tarma could read whatever she wanted to in them.
She nodded. “Good-byes are a bitch,” she said shortly. “Never got used to them, myself. Travel well and lightly, jel’enedre. I’ll miss you.”
She gave him a quick, hard hug, and there was a suspicion of tears in her eyes. Then she left him alone in his suddenly empty room. Left him to pack the little he had that he wanted or needed to take with him. Not the clothes, certainly, except what he needed to travel with—Faram would have him outfitted the moment he passed the city gates in the finest of silk and wool, velvet and leathers. Not the books; they were Tarma’s. The weapons and armor, some notes and letters. A couple of books of his own. His life here had left him very little in the way of keepsakes....
And where was Kero? Why didn’t she come to him?
She didn’t appear at his door any time that evening; he finished packing and tried to read a book, but couldn’t concentrate on the words. Finally he took a long hot bath, and drank a good half-bottle of wine to relax. He thought about his father; he and Kero had that in common as well, after the first shock, he was having a hard time feeling the way, perhaps, he should. He hardly knew the King—he’d spent more time away from Court than in it, mostly because of Thanel. Faram had been more of a father than Jad. The King had been the King, and word of his death was enough to shock any dutiful subject into tears. If it had been Faram, now—