by Glenn Wilson
Grimacing in the most objective inner part of his being, a moment later Elizabeth Wester hailed them all.
“All of you gentlemen might as well get together,” she observed. “She’ll be back in a moment.”
By some remarkable degree, they all obeyed, a testament to her air of authority, Ian thought.
True to Elizabeth’s prediction, the other girl returned only a few moments after they had all constructed an uncertain line. Now that he could see her up close, Ian decided that he had to see some line of family resemblance between her and Elizabeth. There was the same smooth cut to both of them, but this girl lacked the sort of dazzling combination that Elizabeth exuded so easily. She was fine, Ian decided. Hers was just not nearly such a flooring variety. Her extra bit of height over Elizabeth was discernible, but Ian decided that the red-haired girl’s slight sense of lanky wasn’t a clumsy one, but was generally pleasant.
“Hello,” the girl said to them all, her face eager as she reached in the satchel she had brought, “I’ve already met most of you. I bought Dervish chocolate in Carciti. They’re very good, and there’s enough for one for each of you—”
She started with one end, handing them each a richly decorated, little box. Ian saw Elizabeth watching with a slight smirk.
“Oh,” the girl said when she handed Brodie his box, talking as she continued down the line, “they are a little melty. I told the man that they were supposed to be better sealed, but his Bevish wasn’t good at all, and—”
She stopped in front of Ian as she extended his chocolate box out to him, which he took, trying to arrange a neutral expression.
“You’re new though,” the girl said. “I’m Madeline—Madeline Alina Wester.”
“Pleased to meet you, milady,” Ian made a quick bow, feeling awkward because—well, he had no idea how to take this girl. Was this finally one of the spoiled noble women he’d been hearing about all of his life, or—
“Pleased to meet you as well,” she said, “even though I haven’t actually met you yet since I don’t know your name.”
“Oh—” Ian said, stumbling a bit, even as he fought to re-level his momentum, “yes, of course. My name is Ian Kanters.”
“And I am Corporal Ellis Hanley,” Ellis said from beside him politely.
“Pleased to meet you,” Madeline continued on, reaching for Ellis’ chocolate box.
Much to Ian’s relief. That had been particularly embarrassing. It wasn’t often that he messed up introductions, and doing so in front of important people was a habit he would like to avoid. Though that made him wonder, as he snuck a glance over at Elizabeth, just what sort of rating she would assign his introduction to her.
“Um, thank you,” Ian heard Rory mutter. “Private Rory Williams.”
Ian watched as Madeline Wester finished with the formal introductions and cocked her head a little, as though trying to sum them up.
“Have you been soldiers for very long?” she asked, sounding a little dubious.
“I think the question should be whether we have been good soldiers for very long, milady,” Brodie was quick to reply, to some general and much needed laughter.
Ian did his best to return the favor—she couldn’t be much over fifteen. Now that he had felt something of a poke at him, at them all really, he let himself go a little and quickly calculated that this girl was also much less notable than Elizabeth in a few notable ways.
“Rangers and grenadiers come to our home world Gower all the time,” Madeline was going on, “mostly for the sport that my father allows them. We often see all sorts of the best generals and admirals at our home.”
Ian made careful note of where her eyes wandered as she talked. They noticed, but didn’t seem to find much of interest in Corporal Wesshire, who was still standing near Elizabeth, but her eyes did linger for a moment on Corporal Hanley. Ian didn’t quite understand this, but he guessed that it was probably the rank. Her eyes swept over the rest of them, even him for the barest of moments, but it seemed haphazard, without any particular order to it.
“Yes, our father has many important friends,” Elizabeth said, in a mildly downplaying tone.
“We’ve been here for nearly three days,” Madeline said. “Father let me go on ahead as there wasn’t any reason to stay in Portsmouth as long as I brought our servants.”
“And what are those other things, milady?” Brodie asked. “Those animals with those exceptional lungs?”
Ian glanced over at Rory, and then around as his second man also looked to see what Brodie was referencing.
“Those are mine,” Madeline said. “They’re called gray wyverns on Gower. There are all sorts of scientific names for them though. That noise they make is how they clear out their pressure lungs.”
“They’re a terrible nuisance,” Elizabeth said quietly.
“They are not,” Madeline said. “Father said that I could bring them.”
“Only because you pestered about it for days,” Elizabeth answered.
“At least we can use them for packing,” Madeline countered, her voice rising, “since we have so much of your things to carry.”
“Oh boy,” Ian heard Kieran mutter.
“That’s what the brisa are for,” Elizabeth said coolly, turning toward the center of camp where they had started a fire for lunch.
“Oh please,” Madeline huffed, starting off in roughly the opposite direction.
“Well, this ought to be fun,” Kieran said as he, and by natural extension Brodie as well, started along after Elizabeth.
The others began to follow, with some low conversation, a little laughter as they tried to manage their chocolates. Looking down at his own chocolate box, somewhat leaky and not exactly manageable without flatware, Ian glanced back up where Madeline Wester was disappearing among the rocks. He saw that one of their Bevish servants were waiting there, presumably watching these wyverns she was talking about.
Slowly turning back toward their camp area with a frown, Ian couldn’t help but agree with Kieran’s summation.
* * * *
Ian quickly fell to liking the Mombosso and its ever present cradle of rock outcroppings, which he learned from Will were called forges by some Ellosians. Something was calming about them, despite the regenerating miles of turmoil that the Mombosso created. For the most part, it was a wide, easy river, but in many places, at least along where they were camped, there were faster currents and occasional rapids due to the array of boulders that littered its length.
Thanks to the sort of lull their party was in for the rest of the day, Ian had an unexpected amount of free time following the setting up of camp and lunch. Will was busying advising the margrave, and no one else available that he would want to talk to, as hard as that made his stomach pang with a soft sort of hollow. No—it wasn’t really his stomach. A little above that, his sternum he thought. That didn’t seem to make sense, as he couldn’t think of any important organs being located there.
Letting a little bit of bitterness touch his lips, Ian focused on the side of the column-shaped boulder in front of him. He had been climbing up and off them for some time, but now he was reaching some more impressive and closely-arranged boulders that he could climb and jump over. The one that he was presently on was fairly flat, and of a median height. The one in front of him was much taller, and fairly gradual, at least on its top third. The point just below that, where he was looking to get to, wasn’t all that much of a jump away. It was the surface’s considerable angle and robust lack of good gripping points that made it worth pausing for. Mentally lining up where he wanted his hands and feet to go, he crouched at the edge, only looking down once to estimate that falling the eight feet or so between the two boulders would be uncomfortable more than dangerous. Pulling his arms back, he carefully brought them forward and gently leaped.
His target boulder quickly met him, gravity pulling him down harder than his forward momentum. The boulder’s texture was mostly smooth, but one protruding edge struck his el
bow contrary to his expectations, sending a jolt up his arm as the rest of his body dropped onto the rock. The first moment or so didn’t really hurt as he pushed that out of mind, scrambling with his legs and hands as there was abruptly no significant traction.
Evidently his left half was able to find more friction than his other, as his right side slipped the most, tilting his perspective. Experiencing small waves of panic, especially at the sight of the stone moving past him in little jerks, he tried to press his whole body against it, which helped. A little. Looking up toward his right, he flailed his fingers across the most promising ridge he could see. At about the same time, he decided upon the best place that his left foot had found and kept it at that.
He didn’t come up with much for his right hand, just a thin lip barely big enough for a couple digits of a few fingers, but he decided not to complain. Doing his best to maintain that leverage, he readjusted his left side a little more and looked up in that direction, recalculating the path he had previously planned. A second later he pushed off with what he had, casting his left hand in the direction at the most promising area.
Almost immediately he found what he sought, exceeding expectations and turning what had been fairly risky into something passive again. Succeeding from that grip, he was able to pull himself to another for his right hand. The boulder’s slant quickly became gentler, to where he was able to transition from climbing to crawling.
He was able to rise upright for the last few steps to the rock’s summit, where he stopped to rub off his hands and survey his progress. First he examined what he had just beaten, the boulder’s side and the gap he had avoided, then the line of winding rocks he’d long since left behind. Satisfied with that, he turned in the early afternoon sun and began to plot out the next bits of his course.
Or he tried to. His vantage of the landscape was particularly distracting, and he found it difficult to keep his mind off the rest of their party for very long. He was greatly looking forward to his next hunt, but other than that, he realized he was greatly dreading the human parts of the rest of the excursion.
That girl’s words kept coming to his ears, much as they did whenever he was actually within earshot of her.
“My tutors are all from Wilome, from the best universities.” Madeline Wester had said. More than once, and in various forms. “Mostly because I passed up my first mathematics tutor, he was so boring. My parents had to find a professor to keep up with me, and it still took two tries.”
“You have not seemed to have the same problem with your poetry tutor,” Elizabeth Wester had interjected.
Ian sighed as he tried to forget the long tirade that had triggered in her high voice. He was glad that Elizabeth seemed so practiced at countering her younger sister, but that had been the last word he’d heard from her. As Madeline had continued on and on, Elizabeth had seemed to withdraw into a faintly stony kind of silence.
Stepping down the length of his boulder, Ian tried to push all of that out of mind and took to moving across, over, and down the rocks without really looking ahead. This ran him into problems and dead ends more than once, but it made his way more challenging.
“I’ve heard that fishing on Orinoco is just like any other planet,” Madeline had been saying, “and I’m the best at fishing. Last summer I caught a tan Jim that was over two feet long. Father says that we’ll be able to fish here.”
“We will see,” her father had responded, somewhat.
“But father, why can’t we go this afternoon?”
“Because this afternoon is otherwise occupied.”
“Well,” Madeline said, not overly deterred, “whenever we go, I bet I’ll do the best.”
That had brought on some repressed sentiments of disagreeableness from the company, mostly masked by Brodie’s good-natured protests. Ian had kept quiet, watching Elizabeth’s eyes, which were mostly always elsewhere. Watching for Corporal Wesshire he suspected, who seemed to volunteer for keeping watch through most of their meals.
Ian’s pace over the walkway of boulders slowed somewhat, his string of easy passings coming to an end. Looking back for a moment, he realized that he liked this place a lot, how complicated it was. A good challenge.
He was more or less planning on pushing onwards, but a small twinge made him decide that he probably shouldn’t be straying so far from camp. His yeoman was already well outside of communications with any of the others. So, looping back around, he took his time, trying to pick out a different route back. And it mostly worked—mostly. He didn’t get a chance to go all that far, however, when he caught sight of some flashes of color up ahead.
Hopping back to the ground below, he carefully advanced, checking his yeoman and soon confirming that they were from his company.
Ian gave a confirming click when they hailed him a minute later, mostly within sight alongside the river’s edge, and he gave an obligatory wave back as well.
There were nine of them, headed by both of the margrave’s daughters and accompanied by Kieran and Brodie, followed by Corporal Hanley and one of the Bevish servants that had been with Madeline Wester. Will was also trailing a little behind, talking to Lieutenant Taylor, with Rory bringing up the rear. The biggest surprise was Corporal Wesshire, who walked beside, but somehow apart from the middle of the group. Most of them weren’t carrying anything special, though a few had poles, and from what he could see, it looked as though the servant and Will were carrying packs with other such nautically-minded equipment.
“Fishing, then?” Ian asked when he was near enough.
“That’s the aim,” Brodie answered, his tone high and cheerful.
“We’re going to the lake that’s down this way,” Madeline said, her eyes and face easily more enthused than even Brodie’s. “You should come, too. We’re going to catch enough to feed us all for supper.”
“This is going to be a regular feat though,” Brodie said, as the group continued past Ian, “no need for any special miracles with such seasoned fishers as ourselves.”
Ian frowned, looking down, his mind brushing over thoughts of miracles, Christianity—
“Are you coming then, Private Kanters?” Elizabeth Wester asked, over her shoulder.
“The more the merrier,” Ian called back, glancing at Corporal Wesshire as he passed, but the other man wasn’t looking at him. So he settled with falling in alongside Will, who was going on to Lieutenant Taylor about the various kinds of water life in this vicinity, even as Ian found himself more and more lulled into a passive pace, his mind empty save for the ringing of the youngest Wester girl going on and on about everything.
* * * *
It was over another mile’s walk to the lake, Ian finding himself pleasantly surprised. He hadn’t really expected there to be a real lake along the Mombosso, and all things considered, it seemed pretty obvious that it was some kind of accident. The terrain dipped for a short stretch, gaps in the river’s cradle allowing it to slow and pool into the surrounding area. Much less stone was around it, and it was ringed in some areas by taller trees. Ian learned from Will that those species of trees were much more representative of the northern regions than the Hovoloko Plains they were on the verge of leaving.
A gentle breeze prevailed, and even when not immediately next to any of the trees, it gave a palpable difference in temperature around the lake. All in all, it was a very peaceful area, a well-welcomed break from the steady and inescapable heat that occupied the plains. Ian hadn’t been aware of just how much he’d grown accustomed to it, but it was refreshing in a fundamental, inner sort of sense there, where the waters lazily moved toward the other side, the trees moving over them in the breezes.
“Quite a pretty sort of nice,” he commented, as they fanned out along the lake’s edge.
“—and the man there was so rude,” Madeline Wester was saying to her sister, “and he was so big, too—”
“Well,” Elizabeth said, “we seem to have arrived.”
“Yes,” Madeline said, turning to th
eir servant, “let’s get all the stuff out, Cadbury.”
“Of course, milady,” the servant said, without quite the same degree of enthusiasm as he eased his pack to the ground.
“Wait—this one’s mine,” Madeline said to her sister, quickly grabbing the pole that Elizabeth had been lifting to scrutinize.
“Does it really matter, Maddy?” Elizabeth asked.
“Of course it matters,” Madeline said with some mild incredulity. “If you want to catch anything good—though these were the best we could find in Carciti. We have much better equipment back home.”
“May we use the rest then, milady?” Kieran asked, teetering near the array of wooden fishing poles and other miscellaneous materials that Will was adding to the pile.
“Yes,” Madeline said, grinning as she put her pole over her shoulder, “just all of you wait and see. I bet I get the first one.”
There was a lingering pause among their ranks as they watched her turn and quickly start off along the water. Elizabeth sighed and started off in the opposite direction, her reader tucked under one arm and her umbrella dangling along after her.
It took a moment for Ian to realize that Corporal Wesshire had long since departed that way as well, and without any means of fishing.
Frowning, Ian looked over at the others, “Well, should we let her have the first catch?”
An empathic outcry rose against that notion, quickly followed by a general rushing to arms.
“Can you fish like you can shoot?” Ian asked Rory.
“I can fish,” Rory said, “though I guess I’m not very fancy at it. Still, can’t let any girl have all the fuss on us.”
“That’s the spirit,” Ian said, taking up one of the few remaining poles. Sighing down along its rather rickety length, he wished he could claim to have better credentials as well.
“Come on, chaps,” Brodie called as he and Kieran ran off after the younger Wester daughter, “let’s settle our company’s pride all at once!”