Owen and Kamiskwa stood by Nathaniel’s sides.
Rathfield studied the trio, then slowly nodded. “Though I find it difficult to imagine, I believe you have the wrong impression of me. I fully understand and accept the nature of my mission, and my responsibility. I also recognize a greater responsibility. Dammit, man, I am an officer in Her Majesty’s Army. I wear the uniform of the Fifth Northland Cavalry proudly. These people may have moved beyond the bounds of the charters granted by the Queen, but they are her subjects, and it is my duty to protect them.”
He looked west. “You have no idea what you will find out there. It could be they were attacked by wild beasts. It could be that some tribe of the Twilight People has risen in war against us. There are doubtless Tharyngians to the west, and I am certain they would not welcome a Norillian settlement in territory they believe belongs to them. For all we know, some of them yet believe our nations are at war.”
“And you reckon them reasons mean we need you?”
“No. I am pointing out why I must be going west. It’s not your responsibility.”
Nathaniel folded his arms across his chest. “And I reckon it is. I was born in Mystria, Colonel, just like most of these here folks. Rufus and me been fighting each other since before we could speak. You didn’t know any of these people done existed, that this place existed, afore someone sent you west in a boat. Iffen anyone has responsibility for them, it’s me.”
Nathaniel thrust his chin out, just hoping Ian would swing a fist. His heart was pounding, not really from anger, but from surprise. He allowed as how if Rathfield said the sky was blue, he’d say it wasn’t just to be contrary. Had he been asked to think about it in the past, he wouldn’t have felt he owed the people of Happy Valley anything. If they were foolish enough to move as far west as they had, traipsing off after some half-mad preacher, he would have figured they got exactly what they deserved.
But that had changed, and it surprised Nathaniel how much it had changed. Before Anvil Lake and Fort Cuivre, he’d wanted as little to do with civilization as possible. The fact was, however, that men in his command had come to rely upon him. Nathaniel realized that he was very good at what he did and that, in part, included looking out for folks who couldn’t look out for themselves. The people of Piety, damned fools though they might have been, hadn’t deserved to be slaughtered no matter what the provocation.
If he hits me, maybe he’ll knock some sense back into me.
Rathfield looked him up and down. “It would seem, then, Mister Woods, that we have an unity of purpose. I shall accompany you.”
“You cain’t. You don’t have no musket.”
“We can remedy that, Mr. Woods.” Ezekiel Fire leaned heavily on Makepeace Bone as he joined the group. “Joseph Wright, can you shape a stock for Colonel Rathfield’s musket before morning and get the hardware fitted to it?”
A burly man nodded and withdrew toward the workshop.
Fire turned toward Nathaniel. “You should leave at dawn. I will come with you.”
“This here is going to be a war party, Ezekiel Fire. Ain’t going to be time for preaching.”
“I assure you, I will keep pace with you.” The older man glanced down. “Those people were out there because of me. I must go to comfort any other survivors, and to see to it that the others are properly laid to rest.”
“Then that’s why you ought to be staying here, sending someone out to your other settlement, to warn them or bring them in. They’ll need you here.”
Fire shook his head. “No, I have someone who will lead in my absence.”
The hair stood up at the back of Nathaniel’s neck. “Who would that be?”
The Steward nodded to Rufus Branch. “God has spoken to me. This deacon will serve.”
Nathaniel didn’t like leaving Rufus Branch in charge, but he couldn’t say anything about it. The Steward’s word was law as far as Happy Valley was concerned. More importantly, the people knew Rufus better than they did Nathaniel. If he continued to say bad things about Branch, the citizens of Happy Valley would consider him mad or untrustworthy, which meant they’d side with Rufus if any showdown erupted.
By morning the Steward’s hands had already begun to heal, having faded to a greenish-yellow with tinges of purple on the palms. The old man seemed to be quite chipper and shouldered a pack equal to that the others carried. What he wasn’t hauling in brimstone and shot he replaced with food and some medical supplies. A small skinning knife was the closest thing to a weapon he carried, and Nathaniel figured it would only ever be used for eating.
Owen’s assessment had been correct. Backtracking Gail Green and her daughter had been very easy. Nathaniel straightened up from where a footprint on a stream bank had dried. “Kamiskwa, Makepeace, you notice anything odd?”
Makepeace bent down to study it. “Looks about right for being a day and a half old.”
The Shedashee grunted. “No other tracks.”
“Right. Ripped up as the woman was, shoulda been dire wolves and pert near everything else a-hunting her.”
Owen pointed to a long blade of saw-grass. “Blood here, and doesn’t look as if anything has touched it. There’s butterflies all over, but none on this?”
Kamiskwa nodded. “Bad blood.”
Rathfield arched an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
Nathaniel scratched at an unshaved cheek. “Means that whatever done clawed her got the blood poison into her. Weren’t nothing that cut her trail liked the smell of her.”
“But that would hardly seem to make sense, Woods.” Rathfield cradled his new musket in his arms. “Creatures don’t kill for sport.”
“But men do, Colonel.” The Mystrian scout shook his head. “Could be whatever tried to kill her was a man, or least ways thought like one. I ain’t sure which is worse.”
They pushed on as quickly as they could and, despite racing toward a settlement that he expected to find in ruins, Nathaniel found himself enjoying the trip. The forests seemed older, with fewer varieties of trees. It struck him that some trees transplanted from Norisle had worked their way inland season by season. He knew from the Shedashee that they’d never raised wheat or rye, but the crops could be found up and down the Colonies. Not only had men invaded Mystria, but they’d brought green allies to exert dominance over the land.
Nathaniel knew that the Good Book gave man license to establish dominion over the world. He found himself wishing that the Good Lord had been a bit more specific with his instructions on how to do that. All too often he got the feeling that the Good Lord had said, “Yes, you may make light in the darkness,” and most men figured that gave them license to burn down a forest.
He found himself walking behind the Steward as the second day stretched toward night. “Don’t mind me asking, Ezekiel Fire, but what was it made you come on out here?”
The older man glanced back over his shoulder. “God gave man an unspoiled garden. He gave people everything they wanted, including the gift of magick. But men got greedy, and they spoiled the garden. So God exiled them and took away their gifts. Mostly He did, that was, but He’s a loving God. He gave us a way to return to His grace. And it came upon me to realize that He wanted men to be back in that unspoiled garden. Now, truly, have you seen any other place that has done without man’s spoiling hand since He created the world?”
“I don’t reckon I have, but we ain’t alone out here. There’s Shedashee lives in these parts.”
“But they live as God intended. They’re innocents, of course, because they have not heard the Word and have not been saved, but their innocence and the way they live in harmony with the land makes them blessed. I believe, when the Good Lord comes again, He will reward them for their fidelity to His intention.”
Nathaniel snorted. “That’s a mite kinder assessment than I done heard coming out of some other preachers’ pieholes.”