Jon Wilson - The Obsidian Man

by Jon Wilson

  Lorre couldn’t help but make a face. “He was well enough this morning, old girl.”

  “No.” She seemed oblivious to his attempt at goading her. “The draughts weren’t diluted enough. I forgot he wasn’t one of us.”

  “Of course, that stonediver didn’t help.”

  It was her turn to make a face. “Don’t tease me! You know I can’t take it.”

  Lorre sighed. “How you can survive out here without a sense of humor is beyond me.”

  “How you can survive out here without taking a damned thing seriously is beyond me. You’ll still be laughing when thejirran have your head on a stake.”

  “If my handsome head must end up on display at the end of a stake, I hope it is laughing. My paradigm always said I had a pretty smile.”

  “Pretty annoying.”

  His eyebrows went up. “Well, perhaps I am having an effect on you.”

  “Which is why you can’t be on your way quick enough.”

  “You’ll be good? When I get back to the VaSaad come spring you won’t be up on charges of murdering a certain stonediver?”

  “I suppose they’ll have to stay the night. That kind always hate sleeping outdoors.”

  Lorre shrugged. “They must have done it last night.” He stepped toward her, his expression growing sober. “Go easy. He was Kawika’sda’an. No matter what we might think of him.”

  Her face twisted. “Insanity.”

  “You needn’t tell me.” Noting the quick flash in Ardee’s eye, he changed his tone. The smile returned to his lips, somewhat more subtle. “I didn’t know Kawika well. Keone’s no prize but he ain’t exactly repellent. And he’s not without influence back home.” His smile broadened. “As a matter of fact, if I weren’t leaving…Seeing as he’s widowed…”

  Ardee shoved his shoulder with the palm of her hand—not softly, but not altogether unplayfully either. “That’s horrible. Even for you.” She looked abruptly over her shoulder. “And you forget we aren’t alone.”

  Lorre looked past her at the boy. The young face was relaxed, the eyes closed. The rascal was trying to make them think he was asleep. “I’m not the one who’s apt to be forgetting where that boy’s concerned.”

  Ardee shook her head. “Go, you. Good journey. May you fall and break a leg.”

  “Sure-footed Lorre? Not likely.” He turned toward the door, but Ardee grabbed his wrist. When he directed his vision back to her face he saw she was even more somber than usual.

  “Don’t do anything foolish. If that demon has somehow convincedjirran andkaol to follow him he’s not to be faced alone.”

  “This brooding has truly gotten the best of you.”

  She released him, throwing up her hands in a gesture of dismissal. “Fine. But I’ll not shed any tears when I stumble onto your carcass.”

  He was at the door, pulling it open. “Ah, but how the men of VaSaad-Ka will despair!”

  * * * * Ardee followed Lorre out into the common room, pulling the door to the bedchamber closed behind them. There was something in her brother’s ready laughter she would miss—she, who was never lonely and looked upon her seasons at the VaSaad as the toil. What was affecting her? It couldn’t be the breeder boy; she had nursed plenty of sick children in her time. Was it Kawika’s passing? He certainly wasn’t the first ranger she had known well to be killed. He wasn’t even the first one she had trained with and gone on her first mission with. Nap and Bennie were both dead—she had pulled Nap’s head off a stake herself. Maybe that was it. She was the only member of her journeyman mission still alive. She should be hunting that demon, not Lorre and Hare and Euch.

  “Again, my darling,” Lorre was saying from the threshold, “temper in check. He is a Hyr-Danann. And I may get hard up for company next summer.”

  She was shaking her head as she closed the door. She wouldn’t watch him off; that wasn’t their way. She couldn’t even indulge in her usual, meditative game of listening to his footfalls. She counted only two and then he might have been flying. She moved to one of the large chairs facing the hearth. The fire needed tending again, but Ardee seldom felt the chill any more and knew the boy was comfortably beneath a quilt. She studied the embers without seeing them until she did detect footsteps approaching.

  One. Sihr. Why had the fool brought his ward? But that was unfair; Ardee had scouted at fifteen. And Sihr was far more mature at seventeen than the ranger had been at twenty. Oh, to be twenty again! To have Dot as she had been before the stones claimed her. To know that all the good fights were ahead instead of behind. To get drunk and terrorize the silly breeders. When she caught herself checking the urge to smile, she rose. She wouldn’t let the girl find her staring at the fire like a senile old woman. She moved to the door. The footsteps were ambling, searching the ruins for signs of life.

  When she pulled open the door, surprise snagged her call in her throat. Sihr wasn’t alone. Ardee’s annoyance rekindled. The stonediver was purposely being as silent as possible. Was he testing her, or trying to prove himself? More likely just being contrary. She had seen him speak at the lyceum once; no one else could argue a point so relentlessly just for the sake of debate.

  He had spied her in the doorway, but she waved her arm anyway. “Over here!” Now she considered it, she realized they must have passed her brother on his way out. So the stonediver had known she would be alone. His performance, whatever its purpose, had been solely for her benefit.

  “We’re freezing,” Sihr declared happily as they reached the threshold.

  “I’m afraid I let the fire go.” Ardee stepped back to bid them enter. As he passed her she noted the faint signs around Keone’s eyes.The monsters can no longer even cry,she thought—surprising herself this time because the thought was very nearly sympathetic.You are going soft, old girl.

  “We were actually hoping for wine.”

  Ardee shook her head to clear it of the bothersome musings. “That I can supply.”

  “We thought as much.” Sihr laughed, not as contagiously as Lorre but just as gaily. Ardee felt the smile trying to reassert itself. She was aided in her attempts to conquer it by the stonediver moving over toward the hearth.

  “I’ll see to this,” he said.

  Yes,Ardee thought, bitter again,you no doubt have spells for making things burn that would make my wildernesscraft seem like child’s play.She pulled the door shut, slid the latch. Temper in check. She said to Sihr, who was removing her battered red cloak, “I’ll see if I can find any cups.”

  Sihr cast a quick glance at her teacher, saw him settling to the floor in front of the hearth, and hurriedly hung her cloak on a peg by the door. “I’ll help you.” She followed after Ardee.

  The kitchen had been discovered in surprising order for a frontier home. And clean. Ardee appreciated cleanliness from time to time. She opened the most likely cupboard and was rewarded by an assortment of drinking vessels. The family who had once dwelt in the house had clearly been well-off—for frontierspeople. She claimed the nearest three, only to have Sihr immediately step forward and take them from her.

  “Let me wipe them out.”

  Ardee felt her brow furrow. A need for too much cleanliness could be burdensome. But she handed the cups over.

  “You know, he’s going to be looking for wood,” Sihr said. “Why don’t you go help him? I’ll pour the wine.”

  Ah, so that was it. The girl was trying to push Ardee and Keone together. She no doubt assumed a little communication might leaven the animosity. It was a foolish notion as far as the ranger was concerned, but she didn’t argue. She went to her rucksack and retrieved a skin of wine, placing it on the large table in the center of the room as she went out.

  Keone was just going out the door as she reentered the common room. He paused, looking like a child caught doing mischief. She had his eyes for the first time, however, and knew she would not soon forget them. “More wood,” he said.

  “Yes. Sihr has decided I should help you.” She tried not to sound t
oo sour on the idea.

  He shook his head. “I can manage.” He ducked out the door.

  Fine, then manage.Ardee certainly was not going to go to any greater lengths than he to be friendly. She turned, heading toward the other door to check on the boy. Holt was still sleeping—really sleeping this time. She gently shut that door and returned to the main one, which the stonediver had left standing open. She could hear his big, noisy, citified feet now. He must have forgotten he was trying to test her. Or impress her. Or get her goat. She waited until she heard him returning from the woodpile before starting out.

  “We’ll need more than that,” she said in passing, although he bore a healthy armload.

  She proceeded around the side of the dwelling, feeling smartly the brunt of her own pettiness. Now he would think her not only rude but a fool. As if to punish herself she loaded her arms twice as full as his had been before returning. He was kneeling on the hearthrug, arranging logs in an adept fashion. So, it was not to be magic fire. She dropped her burden of logs loudly atop those he had set down. He did not so much as blink.

  She had decided the tension was thick enough to carve and was about to go for her knife when he said, “You could probably do this much better than I.”

  “Probably.” She moved back to her chair and plopped herself down into it. Where was that stupid girl with the wine?

  Keone kept working on the fire, and she watched his back. He would know she was watching, so she did it unabashedly. She decided he might have been a ranger had he wanted; his shoulders were broad enough. The hands were damned smooth—probably no more than a single callous between them —but large, strong. Nice skeleton—big sturdy bones.He must starve himself to look so thin.But he wasn’t really thin she realized, just pale. His sallow complexion simply gave the impression of litheness. An impression heightened by his graceful manner. Desirous of something with which to find fault, she noted his hair. It was dark and straight and badly in need of washing.

  “I hate to interrupt,” Sihr said, entering with a tray on which were arrayed the three polished cups. “Do please note the current topic of conversation so we may return to it promptly.”

  Ardee saw the faint shift of Keone’s jaw. He was smiling, but did not offer it up to his ward. Nor did he speak. “Our throats were too dry to talk,” she told the girl. “What took you?”

  “The cups were actually quite filthy.” Sihr served the ranger first, then slid to the floor next to Keone before offering him a vessel. “I took the liberty of looking around,” she shared confidentially. “There are two promising jugs in the pantry so drink to your heart’s content without worrying that we are leaving poor Ardee short.” Her sparkling eyes rose to meet Ardee’s. “Of course, it won’t be Lyr-Danann wine.” She raised her cup in salute.

  “Of course.” Ardee hoisted her own cup.

  The stonediver simply drank.

  “Did he tell you this is my first time to the frontier?” Sihr had barely wet her lips. She sat with her back to the fire, gazing about the room. “I was born on Feathersbone Isle. Fishing folk.” She smiled. “This is very exciting. Naturally, I’ve seenjirran in the markets of DuLyn-Au, but neverkaol. And never fighting trolls.”

  “I’m afraid you’re not likely to see any trolls around here,” Ardee told her. “Even the friendly ones will go far out of their way to avoid it now.”

  Sihr’s expression was a bit too interested. “Why is that?”

  The ranger shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She had already spoken as much in that single day as she might otherwise do all season. “Jirranassume—and accurately, I’m afraid—that they all look alike to humans. They know it isn’t safe for them here. Regiments have been detached from Kyrni Keep and even the Shrerdan. Fort Ridge sent troops to villages half way up to the North Sea. Lorre said he would head for G’nash. But it may already be gone.”

  “G’nash?”

  “The Huerunan encampment in the mountains northeast of here. It’s many days off for foot soldiers, but naturally the breeders will send their soldiers there first.”

  “Why naturally?”

  “Vengeance. Stupidity. They’d kill all the women and children to prove a point.”

  Keone said, “That sounds rather seditious.”

  Sihr nudged him gently, saying to Ardee, “They did do an awful thing here. Thejirran, I mean.”

  Ardee shrugged, taking another sip of wine. “Yes. And the treaties all state that the settlers had every right to be here. But one hundred years ago the treaties were different. Perhaps the trolls think that one hundred years from now the treaties will have changed again.” She cleared her throat. “And if that sounds seditious, stonediver, perhaps I should remind you of a tract I once read entitledThe Feldysh Threat.”

  Keone shrugged, still studying the fire. “I said it sounded seditious. I didn’t say I wasn’t all for it.”

  Sihr’s smile widened. “The Feldysh Threat. You’ve never let me read that one.”

  He shrugged again. “I was young. Seventeen.”

  She nudged him again. “Stop staring at the fire.” He began to turn, complying reluctantly, and she grabbed up his legs while he was only halfway round. She took his feet into her lap and began to untie his boots. She looked back up at Ardee. “Did he tell you this is his first trip into the frontier, too?”

  “That’s enough out of you.”

  “Of course, he was born here. Somewhere. Where was it?”

  He sighed, exasperated, shaking his head. “Grey’s Bridge.”

  Ardee nodded. She had never known t he place, it had merged with KingsTown some years before she was assigned. It struck her as odd to discover Keone had been born in the east, but she was not sure how she felt about it. She did know her cup was empty. She unfolded her legs, surprised yet again by the fact they were tucked up in the chair beneath her.My, I have been getting comfortable.

  “Do you need more?” Sihr’s eyes fairly glistened.

  “I’ll serve myself, girl.”

  Sihr gave her an all too coy look. “Do, please. But bring a jug. Keone’s nearly empty too.”

  “But no more for you,” the stonediver told his pupil.

  “I’ve barely tasted it.”

  That was true, Ardee ascertained rising. She forgot the fact when she noted how sluggish she already felt. She decided the lethargy must be a symptom of her fatique; wine had never effected her so rapidly. And the fire—Keone had done a fine job and it was blazing. She made her way to the kitchen, dug a jug out of the pantry and returned. Halfway back she could hear them whispering. They politely stopped before she entered the room.

  “Here.” Sihr took the cup out of Keone’s hand and held it up. When it had been filled she added, “Thank you,” and returned the cup to her teacher.

  The ranger resettled in her chair. Watching the other two, she wondered why the man let the girl coddle him so. He sat there, barefoot now, leaning back on his arms, facing Sihr who knelt comfortably behind his crossed ankles. Teacher and student possessed a comfortable familiarity, of a type the ranger had never known. Even with Lorre, to whom she felt closest now although they had gone through difficult times in the past, she could never have been so easy at such close proximity. Sihr might have been Keone’s daughter.Perhaps I should return to the VaSaad and teach; all of my first watch are dead.

  “How far is the fort?”

  The question was yet another surprise— especially coming, as it did, from Keone. Ardee wondered if he meant how far for him or for her. She compromised. “Two days. Why?”

  He looked about to reply, but Sihr said, “I think he believes I ought to see it. Who knows when we’ll come this way again.”

  “I don’t recommend a holiday. Not now. Go back to the VaSaad until spring at least.”

  “Oh, no.” Sihr was shaking her beautiful hair. “I don’t plan to travel back as we came. It may take nearly till spring for us to reach the VaSaad. Although, as I was telling him, I’d rather see Kings Town than some s
illy fort.”

  “It isn’t a silly fort,” Keone told her. “Its one of the largest ever constructed.”

  “Its quite impressive,” Ardee agreed. “But if you must roam the wilderness, heading south to KingsTown is far healthier than staying up here.”

  Sihr giggled. “He wants to kill a troll.”

  Keone sat up. “That’s more than enough, Sihr.”

  Ardee could hear the edge in his voice. The girl heard it too. “You said it,” she told him, revealing just a hint of hurt herself. Finally, she sounded like the younger of the two.

  “Perhaps you should see to getting us something to eat. We’ll want to leave at first light.”

  She did not make off like a reprimanded child, however. She took another, more leisurely taste of the wine. Keone stretched his arms back behind himself, settling once more. Sihr dabbed her lips with a fingertip. “Lorre said there was a rabbit.”

  Ardee nodded. Whatever had passed between the man and the girl seemed indeed to have passed. “Out behind the kitchen door. Perhaps I…”

  “Don’t be silly.” Sihr was rising. “When did you last eat a meal cooked by someone other than yourself?”

  That morning, Ardee knew; but she did not object. She just watched as the girl brushed at the wrinkles in her tunic and then suddenly kicked the sole of Keone’s right foot. It was not a vicious kick, and the man did not appear to notice it at all. Sihr left them.

  Keone turned his face back toward the fire. Sitting sideways, his face was nearly hidden. Still, Ardee could see the corner of his left eye. It was flashing in the firelight. Watching him, knowing he knew she was watching, Ardee felt the tension return. Her cup was not quite empty, but picking up the jug gave her something to do. “More?” she asked, refilling her own cup.

  He turned a completely undecipherable expression toward her. She had forgotten his eyes after all. But there—there was something of what Kawika must have seen. The glance was fleeting, however. He looked down at his cup, raised it slowly to his lips and drained it. He stretched his arm out toward her. She sat forward in her chair, filling his cup carefully. Over the noise of the liquid rising and Sihr in the kitchen, she heard Holt stir.