Boise's ruler raised his other eyebrow. "I've identified the security breach, Major, but if any further informa tion requires disciplinary action, rest assured you'll be informed."
The officer saluted and did a neat about-face before marching off. Watching Thurston's face, Rudi wasn't in the least surprised when the guards remained.
One corner of the Boise ruler's mouth quirked up very slightly. "I think I heard the order to dismiss given."
"Sir!"
It was the tall grizzled sergeant named Anderson; he'd been so quiet Rudi had almost forgotten his presence.
"Yes, Sergeant Anderson?"
"Sir, the men feel that some field punishment is in order."
The quirk in Thurston's mouth was almost noticeable this time. "Dick, are you telling me that the men are demanding a punishment?"
"Sir, as your guards-"
"I've seen some strange forms of insubordination in my time, but this is about it!"
Thurston's voice was a growl; his face was like a carv ing in dark wood as he looked at the rigid brace of the troops. The countenances framed by the brims and cheek pieces of the helmets were equally blank.
"Sergeant, give me a hand here."
Methodically, Thurston undid the snaps and buckles of his hoop armor. He handed the pieces to the noncom; when he'd finished not much of the man was visible. Rudi smiled to himself in silent applause as the general stalked out in front of the double file of guards.
"All right… pila… present!"
Each man flicked his throwing spear into the overarm position.
"Ready!"
The long javelins cocked back.
"Now, if there are any suicide assassins left in this presidential guard detail, take your best shot."
Thurston stood with his arms spread, then slowly turned in a circle. Silence followed; even the men and beasts moving about the big parade ground on various errands seemed frozen in place.
"All right' then," Thurston growled. "You young idiots, if I didn't think you were trustworthy, I'd have had you disarmed. No punishment for the assassination at tempt. Personnel security review isn't your responsibility. For this indiscipline, one week confinement to barracks and one week's stoppage of pay. Now slope spears and dismissed, damnit! I want a bath and I'm hungry. I'm too old for this shit and my wife's got supper cooking."
As they marched off, he turned to Rudi and his com panions. "You're all invited. Sergeant Anderson will arrange your quartering. .. after he stows that armor."
We know the Sun was Her lover
As They danced the worlds awake;
And She lay with His brilliance
For all Their children's sake.
Where Her fingers touched the sky
Silver starfire sprang from nothing!
And She held Her children fast in Her dreams.
There was a glory in that forest
As the moonlight glittered down;
And stars shone in the wildwood
When the dew fell to the ground Every branch and every blossom;
Every root and every leaf
Drank the tears of the Goddess in the gloaming!
There came steel, there came cities
Wonders terrible and strange,
But the light from the first-wood
Flickered down until the Change.
And every field, every farmhouse,
Every quiet village street
Knew the tears of the Goddess in the gloaming!
Now the Sun comes to kiss Her
And She rises from Her bed
They are young-and old-and ageless
Joy that paints the mountains red.
We shall dance in Their twilight
As the forests fall to sleep,
And She whispers in our ears the word remember!
Rudi let his hands fall as the soft-voiced hymn ended and the sun sank below the battlements to the west.
Edain and the twins did the same and they stood in si lence for a moment, heads bowed over crossed arms, then looked at one another and smiled.
As they turned to go back down the stair from the fortress wall he adjusted his bonnet with the spray of raven feathers in the clasp over his left eye; you had to spruce yourself a bit for dinner with the ruler of a foreign land, for form's sake and the Clan's credit. Dressing up for a Mackenzie was simplified by the fact that everyone wore kilt and plaid, except for a few older or pregnant women who preferred the arsaid. You just changed from the everyday ones into the ones you kept for festival, added a few fancies and you were set.
In his case the fancies included a leaf-green Montrose jacket with worked silver buttons down both sides; cravat and ruffled jabot; a sgian dubh with a hilt of silver and black bone tucked into his right knee sock; silver brooch at shoulder and silver buckles on his shoes wrought in curling knots picked out with turquoise. And a formal sporran, tooled black leather edged with badger fur rather than the rather battered and scruffy article he wore every day, which usually held odds and ends like a lump of wax and spare bowstrings or a half-gnawed hardtack biscuit.
Edain's outfit was a slightly scaled-down version of Rudi's, made by his mother's careful hands from the shearing of the sheep and the pulling of the flax on-and she was a loom mistress second only to Juniper Mackenzie among the clan. The main difference was that his formal coat was dyed a dark russet with Saint-John's-wort-Melissa Aylward called it his calm jacket.
Ritva followed his eyes and snickered. "And you were saying there were a lot of uniforms around here," she said. "At least they're different uniforms. Mackenzies are always going on about how free they are and how they can do just whatever suits their fancy and it's true-as long as they fancy a pleated skirt and a blankie over the shoulder. All in the Clan tartan."
Rudi raised one brow and took in their identi cal clothes; black pants, belts, jerkins with the silver tree-crown-stars…
"Hey, that's family, " Mary protested, tossing her golden hair. "Besides, these aren't uniforms. They're outfits. Say what you like about the Dunedain, we've got style."
They turned and went down the spiral stairs to the parade ground. The risers ran widdershins-Kerr-handed, they'd said in the old days, after a clan that were mostly lefties-to pin an attacker's shield arm to the inside. The others were waiting for them at the bottom; Father Igna tius had simply put on a clean robe, and Ingolf was in his usual good plain eastern-style roll-necked sweater and long coat. The two from Portland, however…
"Sure, and it's blinding them you'll be," Rudi said dryly.
Odard and Mathilda had both brought suits of the lat est Court fashion, suitable for a banquet at Castle Todenangst or the High Palace in Portland. Tight hose, tooled shoes with upcurled toes sporting little silver bells, tu nics with long dagged sleeves dropping down from the elbows, jeweled belts and dagger hilts. Odard's outfit was even particolored, wine red on the left and dark in digo blue on the right, not counting the golden fleurettes along the hems and seams; a spray of peacock feathers flared backward from the livery badge at the front of his roll edged hat with the dangling tail. Matti was a little more somber in brown velvet, but the heraldic shield on her chest had the lidless eye picked out in genuine rubies and jet.. ..
Rudi flung up a hand. "Aieee!"
Odard snorted and examined with satisfaction the little golden chains that held the snowy linen of his fretted cuffs.
"You're just damned jealous, because you're stuck with that skirt and blanket," he said. "I return your envy with the lofty, pitying compassion suited to a Christian gentleman of good birth and coat armor."
Rudi grinned and told him where he could put his sympathy. "With a hay fork," he added.
"Peasant," Odard said genially.
They walked towards the house where the ruler of Boise lived. It was an unremarkable building, substan tial but not grand-redbrick and white trim and shut ters, two stories tall with dormered windows on the roof, of a type that had been old before the Change and often copied since. There wasn't much sign of pomp about it, save for the Stars and Stripes over the door and the two sentries in polished armor on either side. They snapped to attention with a clank and stamp and rustle, rapping their spear butts on the flagstones of the veranda.