Allies Read Online Free PDF Page A

over the odd
spade, hoe, or burlap bag half full of manure. So far, he had
managed well enough, but he could only guess at the perils which
awaited him as he drew closer to the target.
    The terrain had changed considerably since
his last visit, and it was difficult to get his precise bearings.
His internal map told him that he should be within a few steps of
the scuppin house, though he neither saw–nor smelled–that
structure. He did, however, blunder into the soft, treacherous
footing of a newly turned garden patch.
    He wobbled, and prudently dropped to one
knee. It wouldn't do to call attention to himself, no–
    But it appeared he had gained someone's
attention after all.
    Val Con kept himself very still as a shadow
detached itself from the deeper shadows to his right, and moved
toward him with deliberation.
    *
    "Borrill! Wind take the animal, where's he
gone to now? Borrill!"
    The old woman stood on the back step,
staring out into the night. There were lights, of course, at the
barracks and the guard stations, but she'd asked that her yard be
kept more-or-less private, and they'd done as she'd asked.
    With the result that it was black as pitch
and her dog with his nose on a skevit trail, or, if she knew him,
asleep in the newly turned garden patch.
    "Borrill!" she shouted one more time, and
listened to the echoes of her voice die away.
    "All right, then, spend the night outside,"
she muttered and turned toward the door.
    From the yard came the sound of old leaves
crunching underfoot. She turned back, leaning her hands on the
banister until, certain as winter, Borrill ambled into the spill of
light from the kitchen door, his tail wagging sheepishly, a slim
figure in a hooded green jacket walking at his side.
    She straightened to ease the abrupt pain in
her chest, and took a deep, steadying breath.
    "Cory?" she whispered into the night, too
soft for him to hear–but, there, his ears had always been keen.
    He reached up and put the hood back,
revealing rumpled dark hair and thin, angled face.
    "Zhena Trelu," he said, stopping at the
bottom of the stairs, and Borrill with him. "I'm sorry to come so
late. We should talk, if you have time."
    "Well, you can see I'm still up, thanks to
that fool animal. Come along, the two of you and let an old woman
go inside before she catches her death."
    He smiled, and put his foot on the bottom
stair. She stepped into the kitchen to put the kettle on.
    "Where's Meri?" That was her first question
after he'd closed the door and hung up his coat.
    He turned to face her, green eyes bright.
There was something . . . odd about him, that she couldn't put her
finger quite on–not just the subtly prosperous clothes, or the
relative neatness of his hair, something . . .
    "Miri is at home, Zhena Trelu. She sends her
love–and I am to tell you that we expect our first child, very
soon."
    She looked at him sharply. "You left her
home by herself when there's a baby due? Cory Robersun, you put
that coat right back on and–"
    He laughed and held his hands up, like he
could catch her words.
    "No, no! She is surrounded by kin. My
sisters, the zhena of my brother . . . Miri is well cared for." He
grinned. "She would say, too well-cared-for."
    Zhena Trelu snorted. "She would, too. Well,
you tell her that I expect to have a visit from that baby, when
she's old enough to travel."
    Cory inclined his head. "I will tell her,
Zhena Trelu."
    The kettle sang and she turned to the stove,
busy for the next few moments with the teapot. When she looked up,
Cory was at the far side of the kitchen, inspecting the molding
around the doorway.
    He turned as if he felt her looking at him,
and gave that strange heavy nod of his. "The King's carpenters,
they have done well."
    Zhena Trelu sighed and turned her back on
him, pulling cups off the rack. "Put it back good as new," she said
gruffly. Except the piano in the parlor wasn't the instrument Jerry
had loved, Granic's books and old toys no longer littered the
attic, the