The Sword of the Lady Read Online Free PDF

moonlight. A little reflected from the rippling surface of the Illinois, enough to use if you were very careful, and if the horses were sure-footed. They rode on the verge of the broken pavement to spare their feet, with only the sound of the hooves to mark their passage. Rudi guessed that the Southsider camp was down by the riverbank, and wasn′t surprised; it would be easier all round, with firewood close to hand, drinking water, cover from prying eyes, and shelter—the higher land around here was mostly open tallgrass prairie.
    Epona tossed her head up and snorted. Rudi inhaled deeply; that was the smell of fires and cooking, and the sweetish-rank smell of a camp not strictly kept, wastes and old food and raw hides curing with brains and piss. Evidently nobody had told these folk about using oak tanbark, despite it being all about them. Garbh growled at a chorus of yelping, barking mongrels, until Edain called her sharply to heel. Three more of the Southsider men stepped out from behind trees . . .
    No , Rudi thought, looking at the faces and naked torsos behind the spearheads. One of them is a Southsider woman . . .
    . . . and leveled their weapons, before crying greetings to Jake, and wailing at the sight of dead Murdy. More came swarming out to pelt them with questions and beat the curs off with sticks and feet; about three score of all ages, and they walked in a crowd around the horses until they passed a tiger′s skull on a pole and reached the fires and the rough corral.
    Say a hundred of them in all, half children. Three more-or-less grown women for every two men, or thereabouts, Rudi thought, making a warrior′s quick estimate.
    Nobody was much older than his new friend Jake; he doubted more than a handful had been born at the time of the Change.
    High casualties?
    The mob gazed gape-jawed at Rudi and Edain in their strange gear, pointing and gabbling in a way Mackenzies would think rude. Rudi sat his great black horse with long-limbed grace, the bright red-gold hair falling to his shoulders and his sharp-cut high-cheeked face smiling. Edain was less easy, his strong square face blank; he wouldn′t ask Rudi are you sure ? with strangers about . . .
    None of the Southsiders matched Rudi′s height, and none had his companion′s breadth of shoulder or barrel chest. Not a prepossessing lot, but truly friendly, I think.
    Rudi winked at a naked toddler with a huge mop of frizzy hair; she ducked behind her mother, herself a girl of no more than sixteen years who cradled a baby on her hip.
    ″Let these studs have room!″ Jake called. ″They saves our asses, truth! An′ lay on eats! We got Murdy to bury, an′ our new friends to show our right n′ good ways!″
    When the mob surged back towards the camp Jake went on quietly:
    ″And when we′ve had the eats, you can tell me more of that story of yours. We don′t like the Iowa motherfuckers or their bossman at all . Shoved our pamaws back into this shit with their pitchforks. Keep us here still.″
    Rudi nodded gravely; Edain thawed a little, since he too had little use for Iowa′s ruler and liked the whole place less than the older Mackenzie. The Iowa folk had closed the Mississippi bridges in the chaotic months after the Change and patrolled the western shore . . . or they′d have been buried beneath the tidal wave of refugees heading west from Chicago and the other lakeside cities, and north from Saint Louis.
    Though now they′ve more land than they can till, he thought, remembering pasture where fields had once been, and at that more grass than the cattle could eat down. They could change their policy, if they would, and both would benefit by it.
    There was a hungry smile in Jake′s words: ″Anyone′s got a hate against that Bossman bastard, he′s got a word to say here.″
    ″Sure, and I′d not weep if he were to be done an injury,″ Rudi said. ″He′s not the worst ruler I′ve ever met, but he′s far from the best—and not the smartest,