Darya brought no drink later when she met Amris in the spacious, many-windowed room that was now the dining hall for the fortress. She carried her soulsword sheathed in her hands, while a plain sword of the same make hung from her waist. Emeth came with her, the hilt of her own sword glowing with dark-red light. Both were in dark clothing and had donned armor again; Hallis had found Darya a whole, unstained doublet, evidently.
“Sorry,” said Darya, “but duty calls. Hallis wants Emeth to establish scouts.”
“And his conscience would trouble him if he sent me alone to do it,” Emeth said with a roll of her eyes.
Darya shook her head. “I don’t think any of us should go out alone until this business is done,” she said, “even the Sentinels. And this is me talking.”
“Sobering,” said Emeth, eyeing Amris’s mostly empty plate, “more so given that you could eat fresh pork and new bread if you stayed.”
“Likely there’ll be plenty left for you,” said Amris. “Best, they thought, to get the stock killed and salted before the siege.”
Sausageiseasier to stack than pigs,Gerant added in his head.It smells a good deal better, too, and is far less noisy.
Not being a Sentinel, Amris didn’t want to speak aloud in response while they were still in the main room, but he smiled as he’d always done when his city-bred lover had made such comments. Gerant wasn’t wrong, but he always had preferred animals as meat.
Darya, who had more freedom, laughed. “If only we could breed ’em straight to meat, huh? And you don’t eveneatthese days.” She passed the sword to Amris, carefully and hilt first, though it was still in its polished leather scabbard.
“Will you be all right?” Amris asked, setting the blade across his lap. “With an ordinary weapon—”
“I’ve still got better reflexes and endurance than most people in this fort.” Darya spoke quietly, evidently not wanting to brag too loudly in front of the soldiers, but she also tossed her head just a little, its dark braid bouncing with the motion. “And I’ve been training for longer. Besides, Emeth’s with me, and I’ll hide behind her if things get rough.”
“Try to shriek and clutch your bosom too,” said Emeth. “Might as well have some fun before Thyran’s hordes rip our throats out and eat our bones.”
“You think that’d be fun for me?”
“No, for me.” Emeth sketched a bow in Amris’s direction. “A good evening, sir. And may I say that you’re in fine shape for your age?”
Darya winced and shot her friend a truly annoyed look, but Amris couldn’t get very upset. He knew the rough edges of humor in the days before a battle. “I’ll treasure such a compliment for the rest of the evening, madam. Best of luck surviving in the woods—I hope the insects are less fierce at twilight than they always were in my day.”
Before the two of them left, Emeth gave him a nod of respect. Darya’s face was considerably harder to read.
* * *
“You’re touchy on his behalf,” said Emeth. “Touchier than you’ve ever been for yourself.”
She’d waited until they were far enough outside that Amris wouldn’t hear, gods be praised for small blessings. “I’ve never spent a century outside of time. And if I did, I wouldn’t have nearly as many people to mourn.”
“Your heart wouldn’t break for me? I’m wounded, truly.”
“Keep this up and I can arrange it.”
“No, you wouldn’t. I’m a tactical asset. Gods, are those the beasts?” They’d rounded the corner to the stables, and the non-horses were standing in their own paddock outside, quite visible. “Last time I saw something that ugly, I was eighteen and she’d looked wonderful the night before.”
“Tell me again how you, of all of us, ended up with a lasting partner?”
Emeth chuckled. “I have great legs. Or so I’m told. And a wonderful…sense of invention.”
The stable hands were waiting for them, with real horses saddled and ready. The older of the two looked up at Darya for a long minute as she mounted the bay. “Sentinel,” he said, “will the things coming all be riding the sort of creatures you brought in?”
“Not all,” said Darya. “I don’t know how many. Even they won’t bear twistedmen—those have other mounts, and I don’t know how many of those either.” The boy couldn’t have been more than eighteen, and his hands shook as he gave her the reins. “Sorry,” she added. “I wish I could tell you more, and better.”
He nodded, bowed, but didn’t speak again. Darya wondered if he trusted his voice.
* * *
Upstairs, in private, Amris settled himself on his bed, with the sword across his lap. “An odd way to talk,” he observed, “though I’m sure I’ll grow used to it.”
You have a great deal to grow used to,Gerant said.How is it sitting with you?
