"You showed who?"
"All those who said I wouldn't amount to anything. But I showed them!" He was juiced, the words flowing into that sympathetic ear, and the story of his many grievances at Iron Hall tumbled out as Tumna labored upriver parallel to West Track. How the arms master had picked on him, and made fun of him in front of the others, just because the man didn't like that one time he had gotten in past his guard and scored a hit to his shoulder. How that hireling girl had told him off when he'd made her an offer, and damned if anyone would speak to him that way, but he'd shown her, hadn't he? You didn't treat a man with so little respect and expect him just to walk away. How he'd gotten passed over when it came time to appoint a new wing leader, which ought by rights to have gone to him but after all the marshal had favored that bitch of a northerner out of the high country, probably because she was milking him not because she was anything special as a reeve even if the rest of them did sing her praises just because she had a creamy way of talking sweet to them all. And then she'd pretended to be kind and sorry afterward, the way you would scratch a dog's head when it was whining, not that he ever whined even when he got cut the short end of the stick. Anyway, it wasn't his fault that man assaulted him. You didn't have to take that kind of nasty shit-talk from common farmers just because you were a reeve and ordained to keep the peace, as the veterans were always droning on about. Reeves ought to be treated with respect and not shoved and cursed at and called rude names. So it wasn't his fault that the man had pushed too far, and he'd retaliated with perfectly reasonable force. Not his fault at all, no matter what anyone else said. They were overreacting, just because the man died when after all it was his own bad temper that had done him in. You'd think they would have taken that into account, but it always seemed the marshal-everyone, for that matter-weighed in against him whenever there was trouble.
"You've an eloquent way of telling your tale," she said. "I do feel I know you better now. How do you like it at Argent Hall?"
"It's a little better," he said grudgingly. "There's a good group of reeves there who have taken a liking to me, but I must say that Marshal Yordenas is a disappointment. He's weak. Too puffed up with his own importance. If the lord commander hadn't appointed him marshal, he'd never have risen so far."
"The Commander of Clan Hall? Appointed Yordenas as marshal? I thought reeves elected their own hall marshal-Oh… of course, I'd forgotten about the lord commander's part in all this."
"Hard to see how you could overlook it, considering this is his army." Because he had a sharp gaze honed from years as a reeve, he gestured to make sure she saw the sight coming into view where West Track cut across open country. "There they are. Tumna usually would cover this distance faster than she did today. That's about two days' march we've covered just since midday. I don't want you to think she's like other eagles, she's much better, but the weight slowed her down."
Her body tensed, but there was nothing sexual about the way she felt against him now.
"What?" he asked suspiciously. "What's wrong?"
She relaxed, and gave that twitch against his groin that made him suck in breath between clenched teeth, thinking of how hard it was to wait to devour her.
"I just didn't expect so many," she said.
From the height, it was an impressive sight as Tumna circled in to seek a landing site. It was the only army Horas had ever seen, certainly, although he understood that the northern army being fielded was twice this size, the one they were going to throw against Toskala and Nessumara after they finished off the city of High Haldia. The vanguard was out of sight where woodland concealed the road, but the body of the beast stretched a fair way back with men marching in ranks of six with six abreast, each of these cadres separated from the next by a banner and sergeant, and three such sergeants to a company with its triple banners and captain, and six companies to a cohort, each cohort assigned a marshal and badge according to the taste and whim of their commander. Six cohorts had been sent against Olossi, although the mounted Flying Fours had been split into foraging groups, one of which was riding two days ahead as their strike force while the rest were split into cadres and subcadres roaming up and down the road, scouting or probing out on raids into the nearby countryside.
"I thought…" She paused.
"You thought what? I'm not stupid, you know."
"No, no," she agreed, resting a hand on his right thigh, right up close to his groin, stroking it just enough to set the flame burning higher. "That's why I know you can answer me. The one thing I've never understood. What's in it for Olossi's council?"
"The hells. You are just a Devouring girl, aren't you? More tits than brains."
She giggled, and gave another of those killing twitches. "Is that what they say about us Devouring girls?"
"Not most people. Most people would give me a good scolding for you know how they will blab on about the duty we owe to the gods and how we each serve and how every service maintains the balance and the many streams that flow in the world. But I say, who would serve the Devourer and give for free what they could be getting coin for, if they didn't want a lot of filling up of what's otherwise empty? Eh?"
She laughed, genuinely amused, and for an instant he was furious, thinking she was laughing at him somehow, and then he realized that of course she was agreeing with him.
"A lot of filling up, you like that, don't you?" He pumped against her buttocks, wishing they weren't both clothed although in fact that kilt and vest she was wearing didn't cover much.
"I do like a real man filling me up, that's true. But I so rarely meet one. I guess Olossi's council will be getting the same treatment, eh?"
"Not at all. Heh. They're getting nothing. They just think they're getting a good milk, but they'll just get a stiff shaft and nothing to show for it, which is all they deserve. 'Greed makes of men rank fools.'"
"So it does. Whoo-ah!" She actually gripped his hips, tensing with fear, as Tumna came down fast to land with a bump and a thump in the grass close beside the road. Then she laughed.
The soldiers kept marching. They had long since learned to ignore the reeves who came and went. Horas ran his hands up and down her lithe body while he still had her hitched against him, but here damn it anyway came a captain wearing the lord commander's colors riding right toward them, on a mission, just as he was. He unhooked her, and she sidled fast out of reach of Tumna's beak, not that the eagle would do anything to her if he didn't command it done. Tumna was strong, and that mattered, but she was balky and slow to obey, and her balkiness had gotten worse over the years, worse luck for Horas, who never seemed to get much good fortune come his way although the Devouring girl stood there waiting to see what he wanted her to do, with a dumb, expectant look on her face that got him all hot and bothered again just as the captain rode up and halted at a prudent distance and looked them over.