"Aye, with lust in my heart. We're working on it, but not just anybody can make a bow. That Losha up here can, but it's a long process. Seems it involves wood, horn, sinew of all damn things, all laminated into the bow, and somehow bone plaques get into it too. We've got one about half made, but with that much work I don't wonder that they won't sell or trade them. Might as well ask a farmer to sell his house. Or his wife!"
"Sounds like. But the range on those things—"
"Makes them worth every damn hour you put on them. Well, feeling more like a member of the human race again?"
"Feeling more like the human race won't reject me, anyway. And it's about time for me to take my watch."
She got up, did an internal assessment of the wine on her judgment and reflexes, and decided it wasn't too bad. But just as a check, she dropped her wrist-knife down into her hand, and pivoted on her heel to place it in the target she knew was behind her.
Ardun peered at it as she went to pull it out. "In the black?"
She shook her head. "No, a hair out."
"Don't aim for the eye then, until the wine wears off. Throat's a better target."
"Yes, Father," she replied with mock humility. "Anything you say, Father."
"Watch your tone, girl; I can still take you any time I want."
"Don't I just know it." She walked back over to his side of the table and kissed his forehead. "Throat it is. And thanks for getting me out of my depression again."
He hugged her waist. "Any time, baby-girl. You do me proud, I hope you know that. I'd like to see you with the badge some day."
"Hm, well that'll depend on who happens to be Master—which is Zorsha at this point, which could be touchy."
"Seven hells, girl, I told you to think ahead, I didn't tell you to map out the future!"
"Yes, sir." She bowed. He made a fist and tapped her cheek. She covered the hand with her own for a moment. "I'll bet Yuchai will still be awake; your permission, I'll tell him what you said about him being in Sword—and that you think he belongs in Hand."
"Do that. It would make me feel better."
"Suspect it will make him feel better too. And me. And Zorsha. Thanks again, Father."
He waved a hand at her. "Off with you. Or I'll dock your pay for being late."
She laughed and ducked out the door, heading for the Master's quarters with a lightened step.
CHAPTER NINE
Don't shout. Whatever you do, don't shout. Tent walls do not muffle voices. "Why didn't you stop them?" Halun demanded, on the verge of hissing with anger, standing nearly nose to nose with Jegrai's brother. He clenched his hands into tight fists in an attempt to keep his impotent rage under control. "Why didn't you do something?"
"How was I to stop them?" Iridai growled, teeth clenched, arms crossed tightly over his burly, leather-armored chest as if to keep his own anger pent. "I was the one who roused them up in the first place! What was I to do when they ceased listening to me—betray them to Jegrai? They declared themselves and rode out before I would ever have been able to do even that!"
Halun's anger passed as quickly as it had flared, and he forced himself to relax, closing his eyes as much from a wave of pure weariness as anything else. Watch yourself; if you make an enemy of this man, you'll destroy everything. Damned barbarians. Say something to placate him, or you'll strangle your hopes with your own two hands. "I'm sorry, Iridai; I shouldn't have said that. All of us misjudged this time, I think. It certainly wasn't your fault that those young hotheads were even more hotheaded than we thought. You couldn't have predicted that. Forgive me for accusing you. I had no right."
"Ai, that is something less than truth, wise one," Iridai admitted, his own anger quenched by Halun's capitulation and -apology. "I knew how wild they were—and with my talk of honor and dishonor I drove them to their deaths as surely as though it were my hand that held the blade." This was Iridai's tent; it was as martial and spare of comfort as the nomad himself. There were none of the piles of cushions to sit on that could be found elsewhere; one sat on the bare carpet. Iridai went from standing to sitting in a single graceful motion that maddened Halun because of his inability to imitate it.
Halun folded himself slowly and carefully down onto what seemed to be a marginally softer spot. He longed briefly, but sharply, for his chairs, his restful bed, his long, comfortable robes. He couldn't even be easy in his clothing. These breeches and long tunics did not feel right, binding up in unexpected places. "You're being far too hard on yourself—"
"Am I?" Iridai snorted, tossing his braids over his shoulders with his right hand. "You heard all my lofty speeches to them about returning to the old ways—did you not see them, one and all, discarding those new swords at Jegrai's feet along with their armbands? And who was to blame for that?"
Halun saw signs that told him Iridai was about to fall into a melancholy from which it might take days to wake him. Damned fool, this is no time to go into a brood! "And who was to blame for them staying in the Vale?" he demanded harshly. "They could have gone away from here—there was no one stopping them. Jegrai made no moves to hunt them down until they started the trouble. East might be closed, but there is north, south—even west; they could have been over the pass and gone long before Jegrai alerted the Order that they were rebels. No one would have pursued them, not Jegrai, certainly not Felaras. But no—instead those lazy fools made their camp in the single most obvious place in the Vale, and proceeded to raid the very folk Jegrai had sworn to protect. They weren't just asking to be wiped out, they were opening their arms to destruction and embracing it!" Just like the fool primitives they are, no matter how much they boast about valuing knowledge!
Iridai raised his head at that, narrowed his eyes, and nodded his round head thoughtfully.
"We are, perhaps, well rid of them," Halun continued, deliberately choosing the most callous phrases he could. "Clearly they could not keep secrets; I think we may thank the gods that none of them were taken alive to betray us—although I must admit that Jegrai's ruthlessness took me somewhat by surprise. I did not expect him to be quite so thorough. I am sorry that Vredai has lost so many fine warriors—but it seems clear to me that they were warriors that were unable to think, or to plan. If Vredai is to prosper, its warriors must learn to use their wits as well as their hands."
"Truly spoken," Iridai agreed, though with some reluctance in his voice. "It is not a truth I care to hear, but it is nonetheless truth. As for Jegrai—once again I have underestimated him. I have mistaken his cleaving to the old ways for weakness. I shall not repeat that mistake."
At least you have that much sense, my uneasy ally. "Our concerns now are for the living, Iridai, and not the dead. How has this affected the others, those who are disaffected, but not yet rebellious?"
"I—I do not know," Iridai admitted. "I could guess, but . . ."
Halun shook his head. "Speculation is useless to us. We must know, and know exactly. Else we act as foolishly as those foolish boys."
"That is again truth. And a truth I will act on." Iridai stood, his dark face now showing considerably more resolution than he had demonstrated when he'd risen to greet Halun.