Lynn followed the instructions in a daze, appalled by the realization that Smith would risk all their lives just to get her into Landfall in time for the festival.
Chapter Three—The 23rd Squadron of Rangers
The rest of the afternoon passed for Lynn in rising fear and despair, a mood that was apparently shared by no one else in the entire party. After their initial faltering, the Guards had rallied with a show of bravado, and the three Sisters were united in Smith’s certainty of the Goddess’s protection, none of which eased Lynn’s sickening dread, especially when she realized that she was the only one who had ever seen a live snow lion.
She had been nine or ten at the time, in the hard winter that had forced one semi-senile snow lion down from the heights. No one in the district had dared venture abroad once its presence had been confirmed. Confirmed when the shredded corpse of Lynn’s young aunt had been found, her blood staining the churned snow in an outlying paddock. For days, all had stayed inside, doors barred. Then one night, they had heard sounds outside the farmhouse, sounds of a large animal, blundering around the yard and low, growling calls. The adults had taken what weapons were to hand, mainly pitchforks and staves, and the children were sent upstairs. But Lynn and her young cousin had crept to a window and peered out. She would never forget the huge, prowling shape, padding around the pig sheds in the moonlight, not that there was anything there the snow lion could have eaten, but the starved animal was not to know that. The next day, a patrol of Rangers had arrived in the district and hunted down the beast. Lynn had suffered from nightmares for weeks after, panic-filled dreams that she felt sure would return that night.
The room at Redridge felt like a condemned woman’s cell, despite its cozy furnishing and the roaring fire in the hearth. Lynn’s appetite for her evening meal was poor. She picked at a little of the food and tried to shut out the sound of Smith’s sanctimonious platitudes. No one seemed to even consider the idea that the journey over the pass could be death for them all.
The hour for sleep was approaching when another knock came at the door and the proprietor trotted in. Sister Smith put aside her book and ushered the woman to a corner of the room where they exchanged a few words, their voices too low for Lynn to catch anything said. It was probably no more than the order for breakfast. Maybe the last meal I will ever eat, Lynn thought miserably. Neither Smith’s eyes nor the proprietor’s deferential expression gave away any clues, but after the bustling innkeeper had left, Smith returned to her chair and announced, “Already Celaeno has answered our prayers.”
Lynn averted her eyes and stared at the burning logs in the fireplace. The only way her prayers could have been answered was if Smith had abandoned the idea of going over the pass, but the senior Sister’s exultant tone made that eventuality seem most unlikely. No other explanation was forthcoming, but within a few seconds, the door reopened and the town mayor entered again, followed by Major Machovi of the Guards and two officers from the Rangers in their uniforms of gray and green. Lynn looked at the newcomers with the first spark of hope. The Rangers protected the borderlands, tracking down and removing any dangers that threatened. Perhaps they brought good news. Maybe they had already dispatched the snow lions.
“Ma’am?” the mayor said hesitantly.
Sister Smith inclined her head graciously, granting her permission for the town leader to continue.
The mayor cleared her throat and said, “The 23rd Squadron of Rangers has just arrived in Redridge. They’ve been sent from Fort Krowe to deal with the snow lions. This is Captain LeCoup and her deputy, Lieutenant Ramon. I’ve brought them here so they can tell you a little more about the nature of the threat the pride poses to travelers.”
The mayor’s tone made it clear that she expected the Rangers’ advice to dissuade the Sister from her folly. Lynn wondered how the woman could be so naively optimistic after an hour of talking to Smith. If the mayor had the political drive to reach her current status, then surely she could recognize similar ambition in others? Or perhaps she thought the holy Sisters were above such things. Lynn managed to restrain a wry grimace. Three days in a temple sanctum would teach the mayor otherwise.
All eyes in the room were on the Rangers. Captain LeCoup was a thickset woman of about forty, with a tired, dogged expression and a manner that implied she had little time for fools. Lieutenant Ramon was younger, probably in her mid-twenties, tall and lean. She stood half a step behind her captain while her level gaze surveyed the room, as if assessing it for hidden dangers. Both had the close-cropped hair of soldiers, in Captain LeCoup’s case graying slightly at the temples. Short Rangers’ swords hung by their sides. They still wore spurs, and their uniforms bore the stains and grime of a long journey. They had obviously been dragged over to meet with Smith the instant they arrived in Redridge.
LeCoup took the mayor’s introduction as her cue. She nodded respectfully to Sister Smith and started speaking. “Yes. On the way over here the mayor was telling us that you were hoping to go over the pass. She felt you might be...underestimating the danger.”
The captain’s words were probably intended as a tactful beginning. Even so, Smith let her go no further. “No. I was not underestimating the danger, but neither was I underestimating the power of the Goddess. It is clear to me that the workings of her will are visible, even in the fact of your arrival in Redridge. You have been sent by Celaeno to guide us safely over the pass.”
The room was in silence while the captain considered how to respond. At last she said, “Excuse me, ma’am, but we were sent by the Ranger Command in Fort Krowe to clear the snow lions from the area.”
“The Goddess is the higher authority.”
“My orders were quite explicit. I am to hunt down these animals as quickly as possible, before someone gets killed.” LeCoup’s tone was polite, but every bit as implacable as Smith’s.
The senior Sister paused for a second, and then softened her tone, as if explaining something obvious to a child. “All things work to the will of the Goddess. Whether you know it or not, her hand was responsible for bringing you here. It was by her design that the Ranger Command sent you.”
“Then she should have made her intentions a little clearer when I was given my orders.” The sarcastic edge in LeCoup’s voice was apparent to all, as was the immediate outrage it provoked in the Sister.
“How dare you be so flippant when you refer to the Goddess? Do not forget you are in the presence of one of her chosen ones.”
LeCoup’s eyes dropped from the combative stare, but the set of her jaw showed that she was not yet ready to give way. At her shoulder, Lieutenant Ramon looked grimly concerned. Lynn half opened her mouth, trying to summon the courage to say that the Goddess’s chosen one had no wish to go over the pass, but it was Major Machovi who now stepped into the debate.
“Surely the two courses of action are not irreconcilable? The Rangers can come with us over the pass; it will take no more than three days. Then they will be free to hunt down the snow lions, and the journey over the pass will give them a chance to make an initial reconnaissance of the area.” Machovi looked to Smith and was rewarded with a nod of approval.
LeCoup was unmoved. “Escorting a carriage is not a viable method of reconnaissance, and even if it were, it would still not be safe for you to—”
“What!” Smith broke back in, loudly. “You have a full squadron of Rangers, thirty-four armed women, plus twelve Guards, and you think you can not keep us safe from a few half-starved animals?”
LeCoup’s chin went up. “No. I don’t. Hunting snow lions is a dangerous job. You have to move slowly, pick your route and your time. Make sure you’re tracking them, not them tracking you. With a carriage, we’d be forced to stay on the road, strung out and vulnerable to ambush. On top of that, our horses are trained for this sort of work, trained not to bolt. The cart horses would be unpredictable in an emergency, putting everyone in the carriage at risk.” LeCoup was obviously only controlling her anger with effort.
<
br /> “You have no faith in the Goddess,” Smith said savagely.
Lynn knew that in the Sister’s reckoning, it was the worst accusation possible, but anyone could see that it was having little effect on the stubborn Ranger captain. Smith spun around to face the fire, while the rest of the assembled group exchanged anxious glances. Things could get very nasty, very quickly if Smith were to make it an issue of religious dissent. However, when she turned back to the room, she moved to a different line of attack.
“Major Machovi, who is the senior officer here?”
The question was not completely straightforward. The Rangers, the Guards, and the Militia all had nominally independent chains of command, but in the final analysis, they were all part of the same organization and were supposed to work together when necessary. The major’s right to pull rank was open to dispute, but one did not get far in the Guards by ignoring such a blatant appeal from a senior Sister. Machovi hesitated for only the barest instant before turning to the Rangers.
“Er, yes...Captain LeCoup. Having listened to both sides, I’ve decided that the best course is for you to delay your hunt for the snow lions until after you’ve escorted Sister Smith and the Imprinter safely to Petersmine. As superior officer, I will countersign your orders, unless you wish to refer it to higher authorities.”
Of course the Rangers could do that, although it would mean sending a messenger all the way to Fort Krowe, and it was in no way certain that the Ranger Command would choose to defy the wishes of a Sister, particularly one with Smith’s reputation. LeCoup looked as if she were about to explode, and Ramon’s eyes glinted with anger. The Rangers had little option other than to fall in line, but it was clear they were both furious at the decision.
The meeting was over. The Rangers, with their anger only partially hidden behind the blank faces of professional soldiers, saluted and left the room. The mayor and the major followed after, neither looking totally convinced that the best possible outcome had been reached. But no such doubts troubled Sister Smith. As soon as the door was shut, she faced Quento, Ubbi, and Lynn.
“It is a sign from the Goddess. The 23rd Squadron will get us to Landfall for the twenty-third of March. Come now, we must offer our thanks to Celaeno and then go to our beds. Tomorrow will be a long day.”
If we get to see it out, Lynn could not help thinking.
When she was dismissed to her room, Lynn lay awake a long time staring at the darkened ceiling. She had played no part in the meeting, but she was not sure if there was anything she could have said. While the argument had been in progress, the eyes of the Rangers had occasionally flicked in her direction, showing the combination of awe and curiosity that Imprinters always provoked in ordinary folk. But for all the veneration they received, the Imprinters had no power. The temple existed for the glory of the Goddess and to provide sanctuary for her chosen ones. The Sisterhood existed to administer the temple, and to train and care for the Imprinters in the same way that you train and care for children. Sister Smith had no hesitation in making all the decisions for Lynn. Decisions such as whether or not she wanted to be bitten in half by a snow lion.
Lynn found herself praying from the heart that the Goddess would not desert them. The words of the mantra rolled round and round her head until she fell at last into an uneasy sleep.
*
Lynn was woken at first light by Sister Ubbi. She dressed and gathered her few belongings and made an attempt on breakfast that was, if anything, even less successful than the evening meal of the previous night. The inn was full of commotion, people rushing back and forth, preparing for the journey. Lynn felt herself superfluous, even though she was, in theory, the whole reason for the expedition. She managed to find a quiet corner in the inn’s taproom, deserted at the early hour, and sat down to wait until it was time to go. For once, she was on her own. The three Sisters were concluding their business with the innkeeper and the mayor. Lynn thought bitterly that it was typical that she had solitude only when she would have been grateful for any company to distract her thoughts from the journey ahead.
The hectic activity in the inn was just starting to slow when sounds of a fresh disturbance came from the courtyard outside. Lynn twisted on her seat and knelt to look out the window. Judging by the noise, the entire squadron of Rangers had arrived in the street beyond with their horses. As there was not room for them in the tiny courtyard, after a moment of bustle, several of them dismounted and strolled toward the entrance of the inn. Lynn recognized the sturdy form of Captain LeCoup as she disappeared through a doorway, presumably in search of Sister Smith. A few seconds later, Lieutenant Ramon flitted past the windows of the taproom, heading in the other direction, to the inn’s stables.
In haste, Lynn scrambled to negotiate the tables and benches and leaped to the side door of the inn, emerging into the narrow alley between the taproom and the kitchens just in time to see the tall Ranger walk past, a few meters away.
“Excuse me. Lieutenant Ramon.” Lynn called as softly as she could while maintaining a reasonable hope she would be heard.
Ramon backtracked and reappeared at the end of the alley, her expression changing from uncertainty to stern reserve when she saw the Imprinter. “You want something, ma’am?” she asked icily.
The Ranger was clearly not pleased to see her, but Lynn’s state of anxiety would not let her be put off. She took a couple of steps closer and said, “Last night at the meeting, there were some things that didn’t get mentioned.”
“And things that were mentioned that weren’t listened to.” Ramon was evidently not in the mood to be tactful even though she was talking to an Imprinter.
“Yes, I know, and for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. But how good is your information that the snow lions are in this area?”
“We didn’t ride 240 kilometers in two days for the sake of exercising the horses.”
Lynn was too worried to take offense at the brusque retort, even though the anger in the Ranger’s voice implied that playing nursemaid to a group of suicidal idiots had also not been on their agenda.
“How many lions are there in the pride?”
“Reports range from ten to twenty-five.” The lieutenant shrugged. “Best guess is twelve to fifteen.”
The cold knot in Lynn’s stomach tightened still further. “Are you sure? That’s a very large pride.”
“Well, maybe on the way over the pass, you’ll get the chance to count them yourself.”
Ramon’s tone was clipped, barely polite, and at last the sarcasm drew a reaction from Lynn. She flushed slightly and looked up to meet the Ranger’s eyes. “I’ve got no wish to get that close. I know about snow lions.”
“And I’m sure if we’re attacked, your advice will be most valuable. Or it might prove a learning experience for us all.”
Now it was Lynn’s turn to be sharp. “I was born in the marchlands, north of Fairfield. Snow lions came to the mountains above my parents’ farm most winters. One of them killed my aunt when I was ten, and I saw some of the bits that were left of her. What more do you think I need to know?”
The vehemence in Lynn’s voice clearly caught Lieutenant Ramon by surprise. Her eyes dropped, and when she next spoke, her voice was less biting, although no less pointed. “Then can’t you talk sense into your reverend Sister?”
“If she won’t listen to Rangers about snow lions, why do you think she’ll listen to me? My grandmother used to say that only fools and Rangers go out when snow lions are around. I know it might seem obvious to you which of those two categories I belong in, but believe me, I have even less choice in this than you do.” Lynn turned sharply and stormed back into the inn.
*
As the door slammed shut, Lieutenant Ramon pursed her lips ruefully, already regretting that she had been quite so blunt. A second Ranger appeared at her shoulder, a sergeant with shrewd eyes and an easygoing smile.
“Was that the Imprinter I saw you talking to?”
Ramon sighed. “Yes. And I think I
may have compromised my immortal soul.”
The sergeant laughed. “And not for the first time. What did you do?”
“I antagonized her.”
“Ooh. Definitely tricky theological ground.”
Ramon grinned at the bantering tone, but then her expression became more serious. “At first I thought she was asking pointless questions out of childish curiosity. But I’ve just realized she was frightened.”
“Oh well,” the sergeant said with a sniff. “At least she has that much sense.”
Chapter Four—Over the Pass
The snow had melted in the lowlands below Redridge, leaving no more than the occasional icy crusting at the bottom of sheltered hollows, but it still lay thick on the high mountains, and by midmorning, the steeply rising trail was taking the carriage and its escort through a landscape of white. Lynn was grateful for her fleece-lined cloak and gloves. The road was well marked and firm underfoot, although the carriage was frequently jolted by potholes and loose rocks, displaced by bad weather during the winter. Presumably, someone had ridden over not so long before to take word to Redridge that the route was open, but blown snow had erased all sign of her passage.
The Guards still rode at either side of the carriage, but the Rangers had split up. LeCoup was in the rear with a half dozen of her troops, while Ramon commanded a similar number, riding a hundred meters ahead. The remaining Rangers were skirmishers, traveling wide of the road to check the surrounding hills for signs of the snow lions. The rough terrain meant they traveled on foot, slowing down the speed of the whole party. Lynn could see Sister Smith getting more and more impatient each time the carriage was called to a halt while the skirmishers negotiated some hazard on the hillside. A heated three-way argument took place between Smith, LeCoup, and Major Machovi when they stopped for the midday meal. Lynn was not close enough to hear what was said, but when the journey resumed, she noted that the skirmishers had been called in and now rode with LeCoup at the rear.
The Temple at Landfall Page 4