The Two of Swords: Part 14 Read Online Free PDF Page A

And Conselh had taken his place in the driving squad, making himself exposed and vulnerable. “If he comes back, I’ll see to him, you bet.”
    “He won’t be back,” Folha replied. “He had no quarrel with us. He’ll be well on his way to Choris by now. Got to prove he was right, see.”
    They’d stopped for the night on the edge of the big wood Conselh had spotted earlier; they felt they had to, somehow, since he’d ordered it. Chanso had found a hand-sized piece of dry, sound beechwood; he sat by the fire whittling, something to give his attention to so he didn’t have to look at their faces.
    “He was my mother’s brother’s eldest son,” Folha told him. “We’re all cousins, one way or the other. Clar there’s his nephew.”
    The shape of the wood told him it should be a bear; a big black bear, standing upright. “Two of my cousins were in our squadron,” he said, “and four of my friends I grew up with. I don’t suppose they made it. I hadn’t thought about that, till now.”
    “You don’t know,” Trahidour said. “I don’t suppose we were the only ones made it out, the Ironshirts can’t have got them all. Maybe they’ll be there waiting for you when you get home.”
    Chanso shook his head. “I’m all that’s left,” he said. “Which is stupid, because they were all better than me, smarter, all that. Makes you wonder—” Who decides these things, he didn’t say, because whoever it is had a strange way of going about it. Unless He wanted the good ones, and left the rubbish behind. That he could understand.
    “So,” Clar said. “Do we keep on going?”
    Folha threw a handful of sticks on the fire. “Or what? Don’t see there’s any choice. Stay here? No, we’re going home. That’s what he decided. And I figure they’ll need us, if we can get there. It’s going to be hard going back home, with so many of us—” He shook his head. “I know, you figure, when folks go off to the war, some of them won’t be coming back. But all of us—”
    “I reckon that’s what happened here,” Clar said quietly. “I mean, it’s not natural, how empty it all is. Someone ran sheep here not long ago, but I don’t see anybody. I reckon they all went to the war, and nobody came back.” He lifted his head. “Say, do you suppose, if it goes on much longer, there’ll be anybody left at all?”
    Folha sat up straight. “Means there’ll be plenty of grazing and flocks for them that make it back,” he said. “Sounds harsh, that’s true, but let’s face it, if we get back we won’t be poor. Just means we’ll have to work damn hard, that’s all, just us to do everything.” He yawned. “All the more reason for going on,” he said. “Look at it this way, boys, we’re a valuable commodity. So let’s all take care and try not to do anything really stupid.”
    Chanso finished the carving the next evening, just as it got too dark to see. It wasn’t bad. He threw it in the river; for Conselh, he thought.
    In the morning, just after sunrise, Folha shot a deer. They dressed it out and slung it over the spare horse. “That’ll keep us going for a bit and we won’t have to keep stopping,” Folha said.
    “Do you think this river goes all the way to the sea?” Clar asked.
    “That’s what rivers do,” Folha replied gravely. “At least, I’m hoping.”
    Trahidour shook his head. “I’m pretty sure the country changes,” he said. “It’s all farmland and fields nearer the coast. We saw it from the ship, remember.”
    “One tiny bit of it,” Clar pointed out. “Could be it’s like this all the way, we just don’t know. Anyhow, I hope it stays like this, it’s not so bad.”
    “Does anyone know what language they speak?” Chanso asked.
    It was soon clear that nobody had thought about that. “It’s a good point,” Clar said. “I’m betting they talk Ironshirt. Anyway, it won’t be anything we can understand. Going to make it hard for us to get a boat ride