by Glenn Wilson
“They only had tea, Maddy,” Elizabeth said.
“But why couldn’t we have had tea as well?” Maddy asked. “I’m so tired of the stuff that we have to drink. I can’t imagine it’s anything like the archon’s tea.”
“I cannot imagine either,” Elizabeth said. “Now please be quiet, I am trying to read.”
No answers came, and Ian looked up, a little surprised. He could only make out the occasional glimpse of red as the top corner of the brisa’s pack swayed.
“Do you think father was terribly upset about the leopard?” he heard Maddy ask quietly.
“I cannot imagine how to care,” Elizabeth said offhandedly. “One beast is as good as another.”
There was no answer. When he thought it was safe enough to look up again, he saw only bits of Maddy’s face as she stared out over the late afternoon fields.
“Our chero said we would be near water again this evening,” Maddy said, “so I think we can go fishing again.”
Ian waited in the silence.
* * * *
They did indeed come to another body of water a good hour before their usual stopping time. It was a very nice place to stop, however, which evidently won out against their upper hierarchy’s deepest interests.
“That’s right,” Maddy said, just after her camp had been pitched. She was already having the Bevish servants get their fishing gear together. “If we have a short dinner, we’ll have at least a few hours of daylight to fish.”
The response, as Ian had predicted, was anything but encouraging. His company looked unmistakably sullen. After being ordered about earlier by the archon’s men, Ian knew that there was no way they would consent to the possibility of being out-fished by the margrave’s daughter again.
“Perhaps another evening, milady,” Brodie put it quite elegantly.
“Oh, come on,” Maddy cocked her head to one side, and Ian wondered if her exuberant bent would even allow her to see how much everyone else did not want to go. “Don’t tell me you men don’t want to.”
“It’s not that …” Brodie tried.
“It’s already late,” Kieran said, “and we haven’t even eaten supper yet.”
Maddy smiled. “Well, we can all hurry. What’s the problem, what else is there to do tonight?”
“Sleep? It’s been a long day,” Kieran said.
“Ha,” Maddy said.
Oh, no, Ian thought—don’t mention them not getting the leopard—
“I understand now,” Maddy said, her expression all full of beaming and other things, “all these big, strong men walked around all day and don’t want to be out-fished again.”
“Not likely,” Kieran sniffed, but Ian could hear the change.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Maddy said, starting toward the fire, “I certainly won’t think anything less of any of you. Not everyone can be good at everything.”
A slow murmuring ran around them in the wake of her absence, a grudging melting—
“I suppose if I must …” Brodie sighed, voicing the general consensus.
Ian stared at them, then back the way the youngest margrave’s daughter had gone.
How did she do that?
* * * *
How does she do that? Ian wrenched his pole back up, pursing his lips as he watched the thin shadow of whatever had just been on his hook merging back with the rest of the deepening shadows in the pond that most definitely was not a part of his hook. He managed not to look for several seconds at the far more tangible specimen Maddy was bringing to shore—but then he couldn’t, and did.
Frustrations were running high all down the line. The fish weren’t nearly as opulent at this body of water, and they were all suffering accordingly. It was a large degree of difference between the youngest Wester daughter’s suffering and theirs, however.
Their one marginal hope came to rest on Kieran, distastefully enough, though his fish clearly remained a fraction of Maddy’s. Still, cumulatively, they had her beat as Ian tried to remark to his fellows. Jokes were presently not in vogue, however.
“I think this is it, gentlemen,” Brodie remarked, not really smiling. “I believe I will retire after this.”
“And go into hiding?” Ian asked.
Kieran finished reeling in his line. “Shut up, Kanters.”
* * * *
“I bet I could feed everyone if we got to fish every day,” Maddy said as she skipped on the way back to camp.
“I presume milady would not allow herself to gamble,” Brodie told her.
Maddy laughed. “No, but if I did I would. It’s so much fun here, I wish we could stay forever.”
The rest of their company and two of the Bevish servants followed after, occupied with hauling her gear and catch. Ian trailed behind, watching the ground and listening.
“Wait until father and the others see, I can’t wait!” Maddy said, it seemed more to herself.
Ian thought about that, cringing a little. The others were talking about their Allen rifles, but Ian wasn’t paying attention.
“There’s just no end to the living someone could make here,” Maddy said. “You wouldn’t ever need to go back to the city if you knew what to do. There’s so much food here.”
Ian kicked at the ground.
The camp was winding down for the evening by the time they returned. A certain sort of bitterness hung over it, Ian suspecting that it had started at the top and worked its way down. But Madeline wasted no time in rushing to her father.
“Father, father—”
“Quiet, Maddy,” Lord Wester said, waving her off. He sat with Captain Marsden and Will, one hand slowly spinning the projection map they were poring over, the other hand cradling his forehead. “If time was not so short, that would be acceptable, captain.”
“Father,” Maddy said, “I’ve caught a lot of fish again—”
“Not now,” the margrave said, not looking up from the map.
“If we were to travel more to the east,” Captain Marsden tried, looking as though he wasn’t sure what to do.
“But father, it will only take a moment—” Maddy insisted.
The margrave snapped for a moment, half-shouting a curse. “I said not now, Madeline! I am busy and have no time or care to waste on such tripe.”
Maddy stood very straight, didn’t move for several long heartbeats.
Ian looked away, trying to pretend along with everyone else that it wasn’t uncomfortable to breathe. With a grim continuation of the activities that everyone was engaged in, however, it was better a few seconds later. The youngest daughter of the margrave turned and walked the way she had come, which wasn’t near her tent or wyverns. Her face was very composed, her eyes blank.
In accordance with their efforts for normalcy, no one else marked her passing. Not even Elizabeth looked up from what she was reading. The oldest daughter’s expression was stormy, but for what particular reason, Ian didn’t know.
Ian did his best to make himself busy with reordering his gear to get ready for bed. The expedient nature of their company worked against that taking very much time though. He knew he could always pretend to occupy himself with something else, but he could see nothing wholesome in that.
Staring down at his sword, Ian turned it over and over in his hands, thinking and trying not to. Feeling, and trying to think what that meant.
Standing, Ian started off in a northerly direction, roughly perpendicular to Maddy’s and not toward much of anything else. He passed out of the camp without comment or particular notice. It was some time after he was out of sight that he even determined where he indeed was going.
Picking up a little more speed, his direction shifted more to the west, then southwest as he scanned the deepening shadows and came upon the path they had previously taken through the grasses. The path would have been easy to miss in the failing light and next to impossible to determine any recent tracks on it that were traveling away from the camp, at least without some lengthy examinations. But
he sped over it, looking around the hillsides and down along the path that he passed, making sure there were no obvious deviations off of it.
Nothing came up, and as he came to the top of the small rise before the lake, Ian spotted Maddy. She was nearly to the lake, her hair and dress moving in the breeze.
And just what did he intend to do?
That was the excellent question he couldn’t quite answer as he slowed to a jog. Maddy reached the lake well before him and began to stoop and skip rocks across the water.
There came a point, as he slowed even further into a walk, that he felt the final turning-back point approaching. He could still get away without her having noticed—anyone from their party who could see him now would think poorly of him. His steps grew increasingly difficult, like there was an unconscious force drawing them back that he was terribly aware of.
But he settled his eyes on the way she slowly moved, on the feeling he couldn’t quite force down.
He let his footsteps get a little clumsier, and she suddenly glanced back, startled.
“Oh,” she said, her eyes roving over him quickly. “It’s you.”
“I beg your pardon, milady,” Ian said, dipping his head down as he stopped a bit away from her and to her right, not quite next to the lake. That sentence hung heavy for a second or two, and feeling compelled, he said, “It’s best if your family keeps an escort—especially with it getting dark.”
“Oh,” Maddy said again, turning and flipping a flat rock over the lake a couple of times.
Placing his hands behind him, Ian rocked on his heels, suddenly realizing the possibility that he could fulfill his duty without any serious breach in his credibility with his company. That was perfectly within—
He saw Maddy glance up at him for a long second, her eyes somewhere between the opposite of brave and apprehensive as she bent to pick up a rock.
Letting the soft breeze push against his back, Ian knew he could, that he could just let it go—
Ian wet his lips, and he wasn’t going to say—“You really are very good at fishing …” he let out his breath—“—milady.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly, not stopping her cycle of throwing and stooping to retrieve another.
“And I’m not just saying that to be polite,” Ian said. “Everyone knows it.”
“Who cares?” Maddy asked, almost too quietly for him to hear.
“Who cares?” he laughed before he thought better of it. Coughing a little into his hand, Ian rearranged himself and kicked at the rocks he was standing on. “The whole company is in fits because we haven’t beaten you yet. It’s actually quite humiliating. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”
He thought he saw a ghost of a smile run across her lips, but it was hard to tell in the light. “In any case—” he continued, “even though it has been terrible on me—rather awful actually—I’m glad you are so talented. It’s quite amazing."
“Did someone tell you to come here?” she asked, frowning deeply at something across the pond.
“No, of course not,” Ian said, kicking some of the rocks into the water as he walked toward her a few steps. But then he thought that maybe she had been hoping he had been ordered after her—“I mean—I am sure I would have been, but I just thought that someone should stay with you.”
She didn’t say anything.
Abruptly aware of his unpreoccupied nature, Ian bent and picked up the first rock that came to hand. It wasn’t actually very fit for trans-aquatic movement, but he managed to get one misshapen skip out of it.
They did that for a couple minutes, his internal clock growing increasingly anxious as the last remnants of daylight faded. Fortunately, there were only a few scattered wisps of charcoal-gray clouds, the color schemes that moved across the sky made things much lighter than they otherwise might have been.
“Do you really think I’m good at fishing?” she asked quietly.
Ian looked at her. “Yes.” There was an urging, another question in hers that lingered in the air, full of risk, but—
“And,” he said slowly, looking at her eyes to show his sincerity, “I do think your father should be very proud.” He thought, wanted to add that he believed that her father really was proud of her, because he did believe that. He thought that all fathers must be proud of their children, but he didn’t know if the margrave was for certain.
“Oh,” she said, not sounding altogether affected.
He felt himself floundering between the urge to keep saying something and not having anything to say.
“I’m sure your whole family is,” Ian said. “Everyone has their own interests, um, and your father’s is of course the same type.” He found himself pressing on as her non-reaction continued. “It seems unusual that very many people, much less noble daughters, are talented about such things. I’m sure he appreciates that you’re so talented—with, um, this.”
Ian paused. “And of course he loves you, so … I think it is something you should be proud of.”
She watched his eyes for a long time, her expression not closed, but not revealing anything either. He stared back. There were all sorts of timid celebrations in his breathing, his heartbeats, because he knew he had said the right thing, the true thing. He had managed to tell her the right thing, and he liked how it made him feel. He actually liked it a lot.
Then Maddy’s demeanor suddenly changed, withdrawing, but not in an unpleasant way.
“How many planets have you been to, private?” she asked, her scrutiny finished.
He laughed a little, feeling the pleasant tension dissipate, the moment finished. “Only two, including this one.”
“Oh,” Maddy said. “Perhaps we should head back to camp—what planets do you want to see?”
Ian looked her at her. “Everything I haven’t seen before.”
Maddy grinned. “I’ve been to nine planets, and two of them aren’t Bevish or Dervish either.”
“Really?” Ian obliged, smiling as he followed her back onto the path. The betterment in her mood of course couldn’t all be attributed to him, but it was nice that some of it could.
“Yes,” Maddy said, “I visited Thesla last winter. We saw the Parthenon and the elder senate seats and everything. It was amazing, and when I was a little girl I traveled with my parents to Masomalore. We got to see the ancient constructs and even got to go into the catacombs. Did you know that they’re the oldest known, intelligently created structures?”
“I’ve heard that,” Ian said, “I’ve hoped to see them someday.”
“Well, you should,” Maddy said looking down at her feet, “I think that everyone should at least once—Would you like to see my grey wyverns sometime as well? They’re really friendly and great to watch.”
Ian looked at her, but she wasn’t looking up from the ground. “Yes, of course. I would like that.”
“Great,” she said, “they’re already asleep by now, but tomorrow I’ll show them to you. Have you ever been anywhere special on the two planets you’ve visited, Private Kanters? Oh wait—you were with the others when you visited Lord Beaumont, weren’t you? Can you tell me all about it? Elizabeth told me some things, but she got tired of it and won’t say anything more. What kind of people were there? Did they really have as many fountains as the other men say?”
Ian smiled and then tried his best to describe it, though he knew the subject wasn’t either of their favorites. But he found that didn’t seem to matter.
And so that was what it was.
* * * *
“Hey, up now, boy,” Maddy said as she patted at the darker of her two wyverns, “hup hup, Cuppy. Get ready, Private Kanters, Hitchie is much more outgoing.”
Hitchie was indeed already in the process of curiously approaching Ian.
“Hello, girl—” Ian started to say before the wyvern pressed into him with her snout and began nuzzling in between his arm and his side. He laughed, trying to pat at her head. “Nice to meet you, too.”
“She’s
always been more social,” Maddy was saying, still pressing at the other wyvern, which had progressed to half-sitting up on its side. “They’re from the same litter and will be three years old this winter. Aren’t you, boy?”
“They’re much larger up close than I would have thought,” Ian said. He had fallen into a kind of wrestling match with Hitchie. Not really knowing how hard to respond, he let Hitchie push him down to one knee, where the wyvern rested her head and he rubbed at her craggy top before shifting his focus to the bottom of her head, which he found to be surprisingly soft. Hitchie’s appreciative sounds grew louder.
“Come on,” Maddy said as she succeeded in rousing Cuppie up to stand on his hind legs.
“So how did you decide on their names?” Ian asked as he fell into a steady routine with Hitchie sighing on his knee. “Are they named after something in particular?”
“Oh,” Maddy said stiffly, not looking at him, “no—not really. I just liked the names.”
Ian grinned. Mathematically, he calculated that she probably would have been about thirteen when they had been born. That was plenty young enough to have given them names that were a little embarrassing now.
“Are those the—” Ian said, trying to rise, but he found his attempt decisively restrained. “Does it really feel that good, Hitchie? I can’t do this all evening.”
Maddy was smiling as she walked over to them. “It’s too late now, she’s going to love you forever.”
“I hope not,” Ian laughed, “this might tend to interfere with my duties.”
“Come on, girl,” Maddy urged, touching the back of Hitchie’s head in a particular way, “that’s enough for now.”
“Are they very rare?” Ian asked. “I mean where they’re from?”
“They’re a little rare now in Ques. That’s where they first came from,” Maddy answered, absently running her hand around the brow that ran above Hitchie’s eyes, causing them to roll and close in contentment. “There aren’t many left in the wild. Most of them are raised on ranches by special handlers. Some people say that grey wyverns that are born in the wild and then are broken are better than the ones raised by people. But I think that’s just a lot of elitistism. These two were bred from some of the best parents, and those were born on ranches, too.”