The young Silver released Pil's hand and blushed, easy to see on his paler skin. 'The old goat is in a particularly foul mood. My apologies.'
'What gives him leave to think he can talk to a reeve that way?' Kesta said.
'He calls it an affront for women to stand in authority in public,' said the youth.
'An affront to women, you mean! Him talking like that!'
'He's gotten worse as the gout has ailed him, and his hearing has gotten very bad, so he tightens his hold on his memories of the past, although I admit to you I'm sure the old days weren't as he pretends to recall them.'
Ju'urda pressed a hand on Kesta's arm. 'No use digging into this wound, eh? Say nothing more of it, Yeshen. It's a cursed generous offer, well under market value.'
Kesta whistled. 'It'll take us some time to haul it all north, one sack per eagle.'
'What will happen now the commander of Clan Hall is dead?' asked Ju'urda. 'There's no one in charge.'
'We've sent messengers to the other halls.' Kesta's gaze drifted to the sacks piling up in rows. The hirelings worked efficiently despite the old man throwing comments like knives.
'Don't drop that, you clumsy nit! Aren't you strong enough? Move faster!'
Kesta shook her head. 'Is that scrap of coin all he really wants? Hard to see him as generous.'
Yeshen frowned. 'He's got an affianced bride in Olossi he wants flown up here.'
'Reeves aren't carters whose services can be purchased with coin!' objected Kesta.
He shrugged. 'I'm just telling you what he expects. Anyhow, verea, three houses of Ri Amarah in High Haldia were killed, every man, woman, and child they got their hands on, and their holdings looted and compounds burned. A few escaped to Nessumara to tell of it. Whatever else, he knows what will happen to us if Nessumara falls.' He rubbed a sweaty forehead with the back of a hand as if that could wipe away the fear. 'Even so, I don't see how the enemy can hold High Haldia, Toskala, and the countryside, and attack Nessumara as well. No one can have that big an army. Can they?'
Nallo snorted. What a gods-rotted pampered youth he was!
He flushed.
Ju'urda flashed an annoyed glance at Nallo. 'It does seem impossible, doesn't it? But we've got every reeve out on patrol and our hirelings detailed to build barriers and strengthen the gates on the causeway. Better to be prepared than taken by surprise, eh?' She nodded at Kesta. 'So it falls to me and you to deal with old goat-shanks besides.'
'His ill temper is worth enduring to get these provisions. I've dealt with worse-tempered mules.' Kesta considered the sacks. 'We'll need to store these in your warehouses until we can haul them north.'
The young Silver gestured. 'My hirelings will move them wherever you'd like, verea.'
'My thanks.' Ju'urda left with a hireling to show him the warehouse, while the young Silver retreated to the boat and the shadow of his glowering grandfather.
Kesta stalked over to Nallo and Pil. 'Grab a sack and let's get moving.'
'There's more than five hundred people trapped on Law Rock,' said Nallo. 'Is there any chance we'll lift some of them off to get them out of the way?'
'It's not my decision to make,' said Kesta. 'There's a hundred children, and another two hundred adults useless for defense and hard to feed. We need a commander, but Peddo and the other messengers aren't back yet.' She loosed a, glare at the back of the old man, for all the good it did. Then she grinned. 'You kept your mouth shut tight, Nallo. That's a wonder!'
'I was too shocked to say anything. I just kept wondering if he has horns under that turban! Seems like he would, doesn't it?'
Kesta snorted.
'Anyway, Pil and I, we saw a delving. It was working in the smithy.'
The news did not cause Kesta to gasp or goggle. 'Copper Hall has a dispensation from the delving assizes, as repayment for an ancient favor done to aid the delvings. I think it's in one of the tales. They get seasonal work from a chain of delvings out of Arro- Here now, why am I babbling on? Grab a sack, you loafers. You've got the hauling harness with your eagles. Make sure it's bundled tightly. Let's move.'
As Nallo shouldered one of the heavy sacks, she caught a glimpse of the old man looking her way with a grimace so ugly a spark of anger flared and she found herself taking a step toward him. There was a man who needed a few blunt words shouted in his griping face.
'Nallo,' said Pil in his soft way.
With a sigh, she followed him. Toskala could not wait. He was just one cranky, selfish, old, and very rich man. Maybe all Silvers were like him, or maybe he was an unpleasant old coot whose wealth had purchased him the right to bully those within reach of his cane. She'd been mean to those in her care a time or two, just because she let her temper and her resentment get the better of her. Who was to say she couldn't become like him, if she wasn't careful?
It was a sobering thought.
Up!
Nessumara and the delta fell away behind and below as streaming air wicked away the stench of brackish water and too
many people crammed onto too many islets. The smithy had smelled a cursed lot fresher, nothing fetid or decomposing where metal was forged. Nallo kept seeing the delving in her mind's eye, the way its head had turned at the sound of their voices. You could tell if someone was looking at you across a distance; eyes had a way of holding and meeting, or maybe it was jvist the way bodies tensed and shoulders straightened or dropped. It had heard every word.
About forty mey separated Nessumara from Toskala, as the eagle flew. It was difficult to get used to flying in half a day a journey that by river or road might take as many as eight days. The huge river wound a convoluted course, with the wide roadbed of Istri Walk cutting a course more or less parallel to the main channel of the river. The road below was clogged with traffic: people in wagons, pushing carts, trudging with children hoisted on their shoulders. Folk were fleeing from the army that had betrayed and conquered Toskala.
At the sight of those cursed helpless refugees, it was as if a hand reached right into her heart and squeezed until tears like blood oozed up out of her eyes, she who prided herself on being too tough to cry no matter what was thrown at her. She'd had plenty of cause to cry, growing up as a daughter more tolerated than liked in a large clan that couldn't afford to keep so many children, especially one burdened with such a foul temper. They'd been thrilled to marry her off to a much older man she'd never met. For her part, she felt the gods had been kind in sending her to a gentle man whose patience had been as wide as sky and as steady as earth. Her clan hadn't cared what manner of man he was; they'd gotten a better bride-price than they expected.
Now he was dead, killed by the Star of Life army, and she was a reeve, safe up here while others trudged vulnerably down there, not knowing who might clatter up from behind and rip the breath out of their bodies. Wasn't the entire point of being a reeve to be able to help those in need? In the tale, hadn't the orphaned girl begged the gods for a way to restore justice?
The hells! She'd lost track of both Kesta and Pil. She didn't know how to hasten Tumna along, and the cursed lumpy sack of nai was bumping her knees to bruises. Tumna did not like the extra weight, and she was not a raptor to cooperate when she was disgruntled.
As they got closer to Toskala, the traffic fell off to a trickle.
Soon, no movement stirred at all, although hamlets and villages lay everywhere on this rich land. Paddies lay close to harvest, un-tended. No one was turning the fallow fields for the dry season.
An orange flag flashed to her left. Pil and Sweet hung above the river. She tugged on a jess — the wrong one — and cursed as she corrected. Tumna beat in a long curve toward the river. As they flashed over the muddy gray-green current, a barge was being poled away from the west bank while a gang of men pursued it along the shore with swords and bows.-jCargo in tidy rows took up much of the barge, and passengers — children! — cowered among the sacks, barrels, and chests as arrows rained over them.