“Your ma?”
I was about to clarify when I saw her gap-toothed grin. “You are forgiven for thinking so. Yes, he led me off, telling me I was heading to a school. I didn’t really know what that entailed, never having seen one, but hoped my father would be there, as that was the only thing that kept me from bawling the entire time. The thought that at least I would finally know who my father was.”
She scrutinized my expression. “Guessing you didn’t though, did you?”
“No. No, I didn’t. Altunis-my father’s servant, as I discovered, though that was about all I’d learn about the man. He wasn’t exactly forthcoming. Altunis transported me to a university several days ride away. And after paying my tuition, deposited me there among strangers. My father paid for my schooling for the duration of my stay, but never visited me or the school that I knew of. I never met him. I don’t know if he had other bastards, or put them up somewhere if he did. I might even have had brothers and sisters at the university and never known it. And I never saw Altunis again to ask.
“While my mother could be cold at times, cruel even, it was crueler still to allow me to be wrenched out of that life so abruptly, and to have any illusions about ever meeting my father completely shredded. I never forgave her for that.”
I hadn’t expected to provide that many details, but they seemed to be coming out of their own accord, and even over a tenyear later, the memories they evoked were still a little jagged. “So, while I might not have suffered as you did, Lloi, I do know something about losing a family, real and imagined. And I know something about bitterness, too.”
“Expecting you do. Only that’s where the comparison ends real sudden like. I got no bitter to speak of.”
I stared at her, incredulous. “How could you not? What happened to you was far worse than my fate.” The words were out before I could stop them. But if she was stung at all, she didn’t show it, and I tried to move past it quickly. “Why did your people do that, Lloi? That’s what I don’t really understand. You said ‘on account of what you were.’ What was that? Why would they treat you like that?”
Lloi cocked her head to the side and looked at me queerly. “Huh. I was thinking Captain Noose must have told you a fair bit more than he done told you.”
She stood, having to stoop only a little. “Real nice chatting with you, bookmaster. Real nice. Excepting the part about your family. But I’m thinking we won’t be doing much more of that before you round some things off with the captain there. Gets real particular about who says what without his say so. Anytime you want to share some seeds, though, you just say as much. Got near as many as you got questions.”
Lloi stepped over my legs, nearly tripping on an ankle as I tried to pull them out of her path. She disentangled herself and looked down at me. “This wagon gets tiny right quick, don’t it?”
Then she hunchwalked to the fore of the wagon, pulled the flap back, and shouted, “Coming through, Captain Noose.”
Braylar jumped slightly just before the flap fell closed behind her. I heard him say, “I’ve told you before, don’t shout in my ear, yes?”
“You said so, yeah. But I also know how you don’t like being snuck up on much neither. Last time I snuck up on you, you got more raw than the last time I shouted coming through, so I figured I’d go with the shouting again.”
“I take your point. But if you shout or sneak again, you’ll be walking the rest of the way. Perhaps in the harness.”
I suspected that wasn’t as much of a jest as it should’ve been.
They fell silent and left me to wonder at this strange former savage turned whore turned, what, exactly, scout? Servant? Retainer? I nearly laughed, though the whole thing was infinitely more sad than funny. And yet she told her story-what she did tell of it, anyway-in such flat, emotionless terms, so at odds at the utter tragedy of the tale. It was all so exceptionally strange and perplexing.
We rode the road from Rivermost for some time, though it was mostly just a collection of ruts. After setting my pages to dry, and hearing no noteworthy conversations coming from the front of the wagon-Braylar and Lloi had lapsed into that silence only old comrades or complete strangers can sustain or tolerate-I moved to the rear. There were some travelers far in the distance, but their wagon must have been going just a bit slower than ours, as it incrementally grew smaller on the horizon until it was barely distinguishable as anything at all.
I fell asleep like that, head resting against a barrel. When I woke, we weren’t on the road, the sun had slipped much lower in the sky, and my face probably looked like the wood. I climbed out of the wagon and looked around. The road was some distance off, and I would’ve missed it in the tall grass if it weren’t for a single man leading an ox-drawn cart down it. I walked around to the front. Braylar had unharnessed the horses and led them off to graze. Braylar’s own horses were still tethered on the side, and one looked up at me briefly before returning to its grassy meal. Neither Lloi nor her horse were in sight. Braylar was brushing the horses while they ate. I raised my arm and waved. The gesture wasn’t returned.
I waited for some time as he led his horses back and fitted them to the harness again. I thought he’d ask for my assistance, but he didn’t, which I thought just as well-my experience with horses was certainly of little value, and I was sure I would’ve only gotten in the way.
Braylar pulled himself back up to the bench and acknowledged me for the first time when I said, “Lloi doesn’t stay in one spot for very long. Where’s she off to now?”
“I do believe you’re infatuated. She’s off scouting the area.”
I looked around, seeing little besides rut and grass. “Is there that much to scout?”
“There are four basic elements to soldiering: training, logistics, strategy, and tactics. Of these, the first is the only one you can do-that is, with even moderate success-without the aid of intelligence. There’s more than one way to gather intelligence, but scouting is surely the most fundamental and immediate. Particularly in a foreign land. So, while we’re not a full company on a large-scale campaign, the principles remain the same. I have enemies, known and unknown, I’m not in friendly territory, and I wouldn’t travel without intelligence of what is over the horizon, yes? Lloi rides the horizon.” He cast a sideways glance at me and added, “Fear not. She’ll find us. She’s a creature of the steppe. We could be a thousand miles distant, but so long as we were still in the grass, I’m confident she would track us down. More importantly, she knows the route we intend to take.”
Like so many things he said, this did nothing to clarify anything. I asked, foolishly perhaps, “Is Lloi your woman?” I would’ve said lady, but that clearly didn’t apply.
Captain Killcoin laughed and punched me on the arm so hard I nearly fell off the bench. “That’s the height of hilarity, Arki. Truly. Even if I could love one such as her-and that, if you failed to observe, is what I find so amusing-but even if that were possible, do you suspect I’d retain her on a dangerous journey such as this? Or order her to scout alone, and not rend the hair from my scalp in worry? No. A camp follower who cooks a good quail or sucks a good cock, you keep around. But someone who’s ensnared your heart is someone you leave at home for peace of mind.”
I started to ask something else but he cut me off, “Enough on that. When I determine the time is ripe, you shall know more of her… utility to me, and not a moment before. And if that only inflames your curiosity, I say to you, a writer without curiosity is a bird without feathers.”
I expected he’d turn us about and return us to the road, but we continued rolling on over the tall grass, gusts of wind turning it about like choppy waves. I held my tongue, waiting, thinking perhaps he was simply anticipating a curve in road ahead, and that we were only crossing a relatively small stretch of steppe before stumbling across it again.