Sheepfarmers Daughter Read Online Free PDF Page B

and I won't change. Besides, however good a fighter Gird was, he can't have turned into a god. That's not where gods come from." And she turned her back on Effa and walked off.
    Meanwhile, she and Saben and Vik discussed religions in a very different way, fascinated by each other's background.
    "Now my family," said Saben. "We were horse nomads once — my father's father's grandfather. Now we raise cattle, but we still carry a bit of hoof with us, and dance under the forelock and tail at weddings and funerals."
    "Do you worship — uh — horses?" asked Vik.
    "No, of course not. We worship Thunder-of-horses, the north wind, and the dark-eyed Mare of Plenty, though my father says that's really the same as Alyanya, the Lady of Peace. Then my uncle's family — I've seen them dance to Guthlac — "
    "The Hunter?"
    "Yes. My father always goes home then. He doesn't approve."
    "I should think not." Vik shivered.
    "City boy," teased Paks. "We gather the sheep in from the wild hunt, but we know Guthlac has great power."
    "I know that. It's
what
power — brrr. Now in my family, we worship the High Lord, Alyanya, and Sertig and Adyan — "
    "Who are they?" asked Paks.
    "Sertig's the Maker, surely you know that. Craftsmen follow him. Adyan is the Namer —
true
- Namer — of all things. My father's a harper, and harpers deal much with names."
    "You're a harper's son?" asked Saben. Vik nodded. "But you've no voice at all!"
    "True enough," said Vik, shrugging. "And no skill with a harp either, though I had one in my hands as soon as I could pluck a string. My father tried to make a scribe of me, and I wrote as badly as I played. And got into trouble, liking to fight. So — " he looked at his hands. "So it became — wise — for me to move away, and make use of the skill I did have."
    "Which is?" asked Saben slyly.
    In an instant Vik had turned, gotten his hold, and flipped Saben onto his back. "Throwing down great lummoxes of cattle farmers, for one." Saben laughed and rolled back up to a sitting position.
    "I see your point," he said cheerfully. "But will it work against a thousand southern spearmen?"
    "It won't have to. You and Paks will be up front, you lucky tall ones, and you can protect me."
    After several weeks of switching places in formation, they received their permanent assignments. "Permanent until you do something stupid," Bosk said. Paks, to her delight, was made file leader. She still had problems with Korryn, who teased and pestered her whenever the corporals weren't around, but aside from that she had returned to her earlier pleasure in being in an army. She did wish that brawling were not forbidden. She was sure she could flatten Korryn, and ached for a chance. But after the formal punishment of three recruits from Kefer's unit who had livened a dull rainy afternoon by starting a fight, she was determined to keep her temper. She did not want to lose her new position.
    One afternoon a troop of soldiers in the Duke's colors rode up from the southeast, and were passed by the gate guards into the courtyard. The fifteen men, under command of a yellow-haired corporal, were immensely impressive to the recruits. And they knew it, and swaggered accordingly.
    "Get the quartermaster," the corporal ordered a recruit from another unit, and the recruit scurried away. Paksenarrion, taking her turn at cut-and-thrust practice with Siger, was tempted to turn and look, but the Armsmaster brought her attention back with a thump in the ribs.
    "When you're fighting, fight," he said grumpily. "You be gazing around at everything on earth and heaven, and you'll be buzzard-bait soon enough."
    Paks concentrated on trying to slash past his defenses, but the old man was more than a match for her, and talked on without a break as she grew more and more breathless. "Eh, now, that's too wide a backswing — what'd I tell you? See, you left your side open again. Somebody'll plant a blade in there when you're careless. Quicker, lass, quicker! You