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CHAPTER TWELVE

Parting

The voice of the turtledove speaks out. It says:
Day breaks, which way are you going?
Lay off, little bird, must you scold me so? 

—Love Songs of the New Kingdom

Karl checked the third packhorse's cinch for the twentieth time as he eyed the house in the predawn light, wondering if he'd ever see it again. I've always got to make my goodbyes count, he thought. They may end up being all too real. 

*You're stalling. Which is probably the most sensible thing you've ever done. You should let me—*

No. Case closed.  

Beralyn and Tennetty sat astride their horses, waiting with patently false patience. Chak, sitting comfortably in the saddle on his gray gelding, was more phlegmatic. It didn't matter to him whether they left now or in a few minutes.

Karl shook his head. I'd better go. 

Andy-Andy stood on the porch, watching him silently. There was nothing more to say; all of it had been said last night.

I'll miss you terribly, he mouthed. As always.

One more thing to do. He walked up the steps and into the foyer, then climbed the stairs to Jason's room.

Mikyn and Jason lay sleeping under their blankets.

Karl knelt on the floor and gently kissed Jason on the forehead. No need to wake him. Watch over him, will you? He tore himself away from the room, and the boy.

*As always, Karl.*

U'len caught up with him on the steps. "Look, you—be careful," she said, her voice a harsh whisper. "I have a bad feeling about this." She shook her head, her hands behind her back.

"You always have a bad feeling."

She snorted. "True enough. Here," she said, producing a muslin sack, then turning away. "For the road."

"But we've got plenty of food—" He stopped himself. "Thank you, U'len," he said. "See you soon."

She nodded gravely. "Maybe. Maybe this time. But one time you won't come back, Karl Cullinane. Get your fool ass killed, you will, sooner or later."

"Maybe." He forced a smile. "How about double or nothing on your salary? If I'm not back in, say, two hundred days, you get double your pay for that time—otherwise, you work for free for however long I'm out."

"I don't bet against you." She cocked her head to one side. "Although, if you'd care to give me odds?" She put her hands on his shoulder and turned him about, then pushed him toward the door. "If you're going, get out of here."

Andy-Andy was still waiting on the porch. "I still think you should let Ellegon fly you."

He shook his head. "I don't want him away from Home. Not until Gwellin and the rest are back on guard. They should be back in a couple of weeks at the outside; then he can go back to resupplying runs. But until then, I'd just as soon not have to worry about whether or not you're safe when I go to sleep at night."

"And I'm not supposed to—" She stopped and shook her head in apology. Arguing over a settled issue wasn't a luxury that Andy allowed herself. "Did you mean what you told Ahira the other night? About spending some more time around here, after this one?"

He nodded. "I think a couple of years of semiretirement would do me a bit of good—let Tennetty or Chak run the team for a while. Besides, if the guild keeps raiding into Therranj, I might just take a small group out for a tenday every now and then, keep them on their toes."

The whole world didn't rest on Karl's shoulders, not anymore. With Aveneer's and Daven's teams working, with rumors of others attacking and robbing slavers, the guild was on the run.

Even if he knew that he couldn't possibly live to see the end of the work, it was fairly begun. A phrase from Edmund Burke popped into his mind: "Slavery they can have everywhere. It is a weed that grows in every soil."

Not any soil around me, Eddie. Just think of me as a weedkiller.  

No. Lou Riccetti was the weedkiller, although eventually, the secret of gunpowder would get out. And that might not be a bad thing. Like them or not, guns were a leveling phenomenon, a democratizing one, in the long run. "All men are created equal," people would say. "Lou Riccetti made them that way."

He hitched at his swordbelt, then threw his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. "Be well," he whispered.

"You'd damn well better take care of yourself, hero." She pressed her lips to his and kissed him thoroughly.

He released her and walked down the steps, then over to the roan he had picked for the trip. Carrot was getting a bit too old to be taken into battle; this mare would have to serve until he was able to reclaim Stick from Slovotsky.

He levered himself into the saddle.

Tennetty tossed him a square of cloth. "Wipe your eyes, Karl."

He tossed it back. "Shut up. Let's get out of here."

Back | Next
Contents
Framed

Back | Next
Contents

CHAPTER TWELVE

Parting

The voice of the turtledove speaks out. It says:
Day breaks, which way are you going?
Lay off, little bird, must you scold me so? 

—Love Songs of the New Kingdom

Karl checked the third packhorse's cinch for the twentieth time as he eyed the house in the predawn light, wondering if he'd ever see it again. I've always got to make my goodbyes count, he thought. They may end up being all too real. 

*You're stalling. Which is probably the most sensible thing you've ever done. You should let me—*

No. Case closed.  

Beralyn and Tennetty sat astride their horses, waiting with patently false patience. Chak, sitting comfortably in the saddle on his gray gelding, was more phlegmatic. It didn't matter to him whether they left now or in a few minutes.

Karl shook his head. I'd better go. 

Andy-Andy stood on the porch, watching him silently. There was nothing more to say; all of it had been said last night.

I'll miss you terribly, he mouthed. As always.

One more thing to do. He walked up the steps and into the foyer, then climbed the stairs to Jason's room.

Mikyn and Jason lay sleeping under their blankets.

Karl knelt on the floor and gently kissed Jason on the forehead. No need to wake him. Watch over him, will you? He tore himself away from the room, and the boy.

*As always, Karl.*

U'len caught up with him on the steps. "Look, you—be careful," she said, her voice a harsh whisper. "I have a bad feeling about this." She shook her head, her hands behind her back.

"You always have a bad feeling."

She snorted. "True enough. Here," she said, producing a muslin sack, then turning away. "For the road."

"But we've got plenty of food—" He stopped himself. "Thank you, U'len," he said. "See you soon."

She nodded gravely. "Maybe. Maybe this time. But one time you won't come back, Karl Cullinane. Get your fool ass killed, you will, sooner or later."

"Maybe." He forced a smile. "How about double or nothing on your salary? If I'm not back in, say, two hundred days, you get double your pay for that time—otherwise, you work for free for however long I'm out."

"I don't bet against you." She cocked her head to one side. "Although, if you'd care to give me odds?" She put her hands on his shoulder and turned him about, then pushed him toward the door. "If you're going, get out of here."

Andy-Andy was still waiting on the porch. "I still think you should let Ellegon fly you."

He shook his head. "I don't want him away from Home. Not until Gwellin and the rest are back on guard. They should be back in a couple of weeks at the outside; then he can go back to resupplying runs. But until then, I'd just as soon not have to worry about whether or not you're safe when I go to sleep at night."

"And I'm not supposed to—" She stopped and shook her head in apology. Arguing over a settled issue wasn't a luxury that Andy allowed herself. "Did you mean what you told Ahira the other night? About spending some more time around here, after this one?"

He nodded. "I think a couple of years of semiretirement would do me a bit of good—let Tennetty or Chak run the team for a while. Besides, if the guild keeps raiding into Therranj, I might just take a small group out for a tenday every now and then, keep them on their toes."

The whole world didn't rest on Karl's shoulders, not anymore. With Aveneer's and Daven's teams working, with rumors of others attacking and robbing slavers, the guild was on the run.

Even if he knew that he couldn't possibly live to see the end of the work, it was fairly begun. A phrase from Edmund Burke popped into his mind: "Slavery they can have everywhere. It is a weed that grows in every soil."

Not any soil around me, Eddie. Just think of me as a weedkiller.  

No. Lou Riccetti was the weedkiller, although eventually, the secret of gunpowder would get out. And that might not be a bad thing. Like them or not, guns were a leveling phenomenon, a democratizing one, in the long run. "All men are created equal," people would say. "Lou Riccetti made them that way."

He hitched at his swordbelt, then threw his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. "Be well," he whispered.

"You'd damn well better take care of yourself, hero." She pressed her lips to his and kissed him thoroughly.

He released her and walked down the steps, then over to the roan he had picked for the trip. Carrot was getting a bit too old to be taken into battle; this mare would have to serve until he was able to reclaim Stick from Slovotsky.

He levered himself into the saddle.

Tennetty tossed him a square of cloth. "Wipe your eyes, Karl."

He tossed it back. "Shut up. Let's get out of here."

Back | Next
Contents
Framed