does
things so differently. Do you know he has cavalry in his army - not as scouts
or foragers, but as part of the main battle line? He is, as you say, a
phenomenon.”
Rictus breathed in
deep, smelling the tang of the pines on the wind, the close-to smells of goat
and onion and the wool and sweat of his own body and those beside him. The
grain of the world itself, this quiet emptiness of the highlands. A place
apart, it had always seemed to him, beyond the concerns and confines of the
lowland plains, the cities, the politicking of men.
He set one arm
about Rian’s shoulders, and brought her tight to him, until he could smell the
lavender and thyme that Aise always layered in the clothes chests.
“Father -”
“I’ve been a
soldier all my life, Eunion. I’ve carried the Curse of God near a
quarter-century and I have seen men kill one another in every manner in which
the act can be conceived. It is part of life.
“For me, it has
been a trade, a calling for which I find I have an aptitude, as other men can
make music or build with stone and marble. I accept that. I have carved my life
around it. But there is something else in the wind now. Things are going to
change.
“I think that to
carry a spear in the times to come is to fight in a war without end.”
He bent his head,
and kissed his daughter’s black hair.
THREE
FIRE
IN THE NIGHT
Autumn bit deeper . Walking in the
woods was like strolling through a blizzard of dry, copper-coloured leaves, rattling
in the wind, circling and twining in fathomless dances. The earth itself was
growing colder under their feet, whilst the sky was a tumble of pouring cloud,
light and shadow chasing across it in endless patterns, following the sunset.
Aise had grown
thinner. In Rictus’s arms she felt light and spare and angled with bones, her
skin white as ivory where the sun never saw it.
She had always
been a modest woman, something Rictus knew to be rare in those blessed with a
face and form such as had graced her youth. His second night home she took him
by the hand and led him to their bed without a word, and they joined within it
like two polite strangers, until at last she seemed to come to life under him
with grudging moans, and her hands pulled him deeper into her. When he was
spent, they lay in the dark of the wind-wreathed room and their faces were so
close that he felt her lashes brush his cheek as her eyes opened in the
darkness. Her fingers ran down his flank, as though reacquainting themselves.
“What was this?”
she asked as she settled on a ridge of scar. “It’s new.”
He frowned. “I don’t
remember. A knife, I think. It was nothing.”
She found the
arrow-pock on his thigh, and her fingers circled it gently. “So many wounds.”
“War’s accounting,”
Rictus said. He lifted himself off her with some reluctance and they lay side
by side in the bed. “I have always been lucky that way. Antimone has spared me.”
“Or Phobos,” Aise
said. “They say the god of fear looks after those who do his work in the world.”
Rictus set a hand
on her flat belly, as taut as a girl’s despite the three children who had
bloomed within it. “Is that what you think of me, Aise, after all this time?”
“I know that when
I see you in that black armour and the red cloak, with the helm hiding your face,
I am afraid. There is something in your eyes, Rictus. Perhaps it is what has
made you what you are. It changes only when you look upon Rian.”
Rictus took his
hand away from her warmth and knuckled his eyes. “You and Fornyx. Sometimes I
wonder if either of you know me at all.”
She raised herself
on one elbow and moved closer to him once more, until they were skin to skin,
and the wetness at the crux of her thighs was leaking onto his hip. Even in the
dark, he knew she was smiling down at him.
“Perhaps, husband,
we know you better than you know yourself.”
Her mouth sought
his, hungry now. She straddled him with sudden energy, and their
things so differently. Do you know he has cavalry in his army - not as scouts
or foragers, but as part of the main battle line? He is, as you say, a
phenomenon.”
Rictus breathed in
deep, smelling the tang of the pines on the wind, the close-to smells of goat
and onion and the wool and sweat of his own body and those beside him. The
grain of the world itself, this quiet emptiness of the highlands. A place
apart, it had always seemed to him, beyond the concerns and confines of the
lowland plains, the cities, the politicking of men.
He set one arm
about Rian’s shoulders, and brought her tight to him, until he could smell the
lavender and thyme that Aise always layered in the clothes chests.
“Father -”
“I’ve been a
soldier all my life, Eunion. I’ve carried the Curse of God near a
quarter-century and I have seen men kill one another in every manner in which
the act can be conceived. It is part of life.
“For me, it has
been a trade, a calling for which I find I have an aptitude, as other men can
make music or build with stone and marble. I accept that. I have carved my life
around it. But there is something else in the wind now. Things are going to
change.
“I think that to
carry a spear in the times to come is to fight in a war without end.”
He bent his head,
and kissed his daughter’s black hair.
THREE
FIRE
IN THE NIGHT
Autumn bit deeper . Walking in the
woods was like strolling through a blizzard of dry, copper-coloured leaves, rattling
in the wind, circling and twining in fathomless dances. The earth itself was
growing colder under their feet, whilst the sky was a tumble of pouring cloud,
light and shadow chasing across it in endless patterns, following the sunset.
Aise had grown
thinner. In Rictus’s arms she felt light and spare and angled with bones, her
skin white as ivory where the sun never saw it.
She had always
been a modest woman, something Rictus knew to be rare in those blessed with a
face and form such as had graced her youth. His second night home she took him
by the hand and led him to their bed without a word, and they joined within it
like two polite strangers, until at last she seemed to come to life under him
with grudging moans, and her hands pulled him deeper into her. When he was
spent, they lay in the dark of the wind-wreathed room and their faces were so
close that he felt her lashes brush his cheek as her eyes opened in the
darkness. Her fingers ran down his flank, as though reacquainting themselves.
“What was this?”
she asked as she settled on a ridge of scar. “It’s new.”
He frowned. “I don’t
remember. A knife, I think. It was nothing.”
She found the
arrow-pock on his thigh, and her fingers circled it gently. “So many wounds.”
“War’s accounting,”
Rictus said. He lifted himself off her with some reluctance and they lay side
by side in the bed. “I have always been lucky that way. Antimone has spared me.”
“Or Phobos,” Aise
said. “They say the god of fear looks after those who do his work in the world.”
Rictus set a hand
on her flat belly, as taut as a girl’s despite the three children who had
bloomed within it. “Is that what you think of me, Aise, after all this time?”
“I know that when
I see you in that black armour and the red cloak, with the helm hiding your face,
I am afraid. There is something in your eyes, Rictus. Perhaps it is what has
made you what you are. It changes only when you look upon Rian.”
Rictus took his
hand away from her warmth and knuckled his eyes. “You and Fornyx. Sometimes I
wonder if either of you know me at all.”
She raised herself
on one elbow and moved closer to him once more, until they were skin to skin,
and the wetness at the crux of her thighs was leaking onto his hip. Even in the
dark, he knew she was smiling down at him.
“Perhaps, husband,
we know you better than you know yourself.”
Her mouth sought
his, hungry now. She straddled him with sudden energy, and their
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