"Pedeshit!"
"What is it?" Elmar edged up beside him, peering into the darkness. "I can't see a bleeding thing."
"Neither can I," Kaneth said, but he slid back down the slope towards the camp in a hurry. "I don't have to! Elmar, tell the men to get the camp struck and packed as fast as they know how." He scrambled to his feet and began to run, calling over his shoulder as he went. "The Scarpen has just been invaded. There's a couple of thousand men riding like a spindevil wind up that valley towards us." His thought was an even more horrified: And Reduners have pedes that make our hacks look like cripples on crutches. When Jasper opened the door to leave Granthon's study after cloudshifting, Senya was waiting outside. She tilted her head at him as he closed the door firmly. "Your grandfather is too tired to be disturbed," he said.
"He's dying," she said with a careless shrug, "but it doesn't matter so much now that you're here."
He stared, disliking her even while his body betrayed him and responded to her physical presence. Like her mother, she was so sunblasted beautiful. Blond curls and full lips, long lashes, nipples outlined by the thin cloth of her tunic, thighs that curved, just so-all saying things his mind didn't want to hear even as his body did.
Blighted eyes, how can she do that to me? he pondered. I don't want to marry her; I'd rather marry Terelle. At least he didn't flush around Terelle, like a settle boy caught thieving pomegranates, as he was doing right now.
Senya tilted her head and surveyed him rather as a pede seller might regard a prospective buyer for one of his mounts. Her next words made him wonder if she was reading his thoughts. "My parents want us to marry. They think we would have a good chance of raising stormlord children. I just wanted to tell you that I can't imagine anything worse."
"I probably could," he said, face expressionless. "But only with a great deal of thought. However, it's nice to know we do agree on something." To his amazement, she was taken aback, as if it had never occurred to her that he might not want to marry her. "You didn't imagine that I would-" he began, and then stopped. "Oh, you really did, didn't you? You thought I would want to wed you."
"Everyone wants to marry me," she said.
"Not this sand-grubber. I may be a dolt from the Gibber, but I'm not so sandcrazy that I would want to marry a bad-tempered spoiled brat, even if she is passably pretty."
He realised he'd gone too far when he saw the flash of fire in her eyes, pure hate. She stalked off, anger smouldering in every line of her body, leaving him regretting his words.
As if I don't already have enough enemies, he thought. Waterless wells, you're a fool, Jasper.
"You do have to marry her," a voice behind him said.
He spun around to come face-to-face with Laisa.
Amused by his startled surprise, she said, "You really should practise keeping part of your senses tuned to your surroundings, you know. People should not be able to sneak up on you."
"You were sneaking, Laisa?" he asked, unsmiling.
She ignored that. "You and Senya will marry. Make no mistake about that. You have no choice. And soon. We need other stormlords born, and a union of you two is our best chance."
"She's too young."
"She's just turned sixteen. Old enough."
The only emotion he could feel right then was grief. He turned on his heel, and headed for his room.
That evening he did not join the Almandine family for dinner. One part of him might have happily bedded Senya, but he found it hard to face her across the table. And the thought that he might have to do that every day of his life appalled him. "Wake up! Wake up, my lord!"
Jasper stirred sleepily. Since he'd been shifting water, he slept so heavily it was hard to wake. It wasn't until Morion grabbed him by the shoulder and roughly shook him that he roused.
"Whaddisit?" he muttered, opening a sleepy eye.
"We're about to be attacked!"
That brought him to his feet in an instant. The world beyond his open shutters was alive with noise: indistinct shouts, running footsteps, banging doors. "What's happening?" he asked.
"Quick, get dressed." Morion, his eyes stark with fear, shoved some clothes into his arms. "Those sandgrubbing Reduner bastards are attacking the city. Or they will be by dawn. Lord Kaneth and Elmar rode in a while back. They've been riding two straight days with Reduners right on their heels sending ziggers after them."
"Are they all right?"
"Heard they were the only two left. There were twelve of them when they set out."
Jasper winced. Ten men dead, just like that?
He looked down at the tunic and trousers as he tried to absorb the news. "Travelling clothes?" he asked.
"Highlord Nealrith's orders for any emergency. Hurry, m'lord." He flung a pack down on the bed. "This is to take with you. There's food inside, a change of clothes, tokens, some instructions-"
Jasper scrambled, the sense of urgency having finally penetrated his senses, even as he protested. "I'm not going anywhere, Morion. How can I leave if we are being attacked? It is my duty to help defend-"
"That it is not," a voice interrupted, and Jasper looked up, startled. Kaneth entered, haggard and dirty. There was dust on his clothes, and dried blood. Yet his voice was steady, his gaze cool, his words as pragmatic and as cynical as usual. "If Davim enters this city, my guess is the first person he'll be asking after is you. And you wouldn't enjoy the meeting. Your duty, above all else, is to get to a place of safety. If anything happens to you, none of us have a future." Then his eyes spied the open shutters, and he momentarily lost his calm. "And what the pedepiss are you doing leaving the shutters open? There'll be thousands of ziggers out there soon!" He dived across the room and slammed them closed.
"I'm supposedly a stormlord-how can I run away?" Jasper asked.
"And just how many ziggers can you kill if you can't draw out their water?" Kaneth asked.
Jasper flushed and fell silent as he pulled on his trousers.
"Nealrith just asked me to make sure you know what you have to do. Laisa, Granthon, Ethelva and Senya will be going with you. You'll head south to the coast and Portennabar. Laisa will be your protection. Her rainlord skills are not too bad. You're to meet in Granthon's rooms. I'll take you there."
He grabbed up Jasper's pack and sword and hustled him out of the door towards the Cloudmaster's quarters. Jasper was still trying to tie his tunic.
"Morion said you had a hard time getting back here. What happened?" he asked, running to catch up. Two women servants hurried past in the opposite direction, wide-eyed and worried.
Kaneth said, "The advance guard were trying to cut us off. They didn't want us to warn the city. Most of my men were killed. Ziggers. Damn, but I loathe those whining winged bastards!"
"How much time do we have?"
Kaneth gave a hollow laugh. "The first of their warriors were on our heels. Maybe half the run of a sandglass behind us. That's all. Oh, the full army won't be here until tomorrow, but there'll be ziggers over the walls any time now. I doubt that everyone will hear the warning in time. I'm not sure we can even get you out before they get here."
They halted outside Granthon's door. It was open and the Cloudmaster's room was crowded with people. Servants had brought in a litter, and the Cloudmaster was sitting on the edge of it, about to lie down. He was glowering at everybody. Ethelva hovered nearby, her grey hair loose and untidily ruffled. Lord Gold was flicking water onto Granthon's head, murmuring a prayer at the same time. A couple of armed guards and a manservant stood next to the shuttered windows, silent and watchful.
Laisa and Senya had just entered, clutching water skins, packs and a lantern. Laisa regarded the scene calmly, her travelling clothes neat and practical, yet flattering; Senya was wide-eyed with a mixture of fright and excitement and looked as if she had dressed in a hurry. She was, as usual, wearing a calf-length skirt and frilly over-blouse. Jasper had never seen her dressed any other way.