194
Scarp
The horizon turned to a gray line not long after they left Tara Bay. Lumina’s visit to the ship had sent morale soaring – she’d held nothing back, but Healed every last affliction, from a broken thumb to diarrhea to blisters. They’d had a fine meal on Lady Meriel’s harbor barge after, a late dinner because of Lumina’s work. Antonio liked the Duke from the island just north, St. Denis – the man felt like a hunter to him. And afterward, Yahala had stayed with the
Darter because Lumina refused to allow Antonio to go off without one – plus because Reginald MacNeil had pointed out that if the people he was seeking had Healers and he didn’t, he be at a disadvantage, but if the other way around, it would increase his prestige. A year earlier Antonio would have fumed over that, but after dealing with Quistador society it was just an aspect of life.
The gray line grew thicker. The top acquired yellow streaks, the main line black ones mostly running up and down. Antonio stared, fascinated, as the great cliff that was the eastern shore of the Sea for most of its length became clearer and showed more detail. Alone in the bow of the ship, Antonio– he realized he wasn’t alone, and spun.
“You’re it!” Oran declared, laughing, poking Antonio in the ribs and dodging.
Antonio glared, then laughed. “Where did you come from?” he demanded.
The Scout shrugged. “My mom, originally. But most recently, Rigel wanted me to Scout for him on the way north. He doesn’t need me; he’s got five others and he’s following a route he’s used before. But you’re going someplace new – and so am I.” He grinned at Antonio’s face; the hunter wanted hands-on details. “I jumped ship and swam to shore underwater. I waited by a little sailboat till they were gone. Then I helped a guy with his fishing net and got dinner and a place to sleep. I earned my keep around the town, and when your ship showed up, I came out and snuck on during the night. I’ve been up in the yards since. The sails and stuff”, he explained. “So – that cliff’s awesome, huh?”
“Yeah. Percival hasn’t told me a thing – he thinks it’s a game or something.” Antonio looked around the deck. “I expected him to be out.”
Oran grinned. “If he’s not telling, I won’t! But if you had Scout’s eyes – wow.” That made Antonio turn and look the cliff over again. He didn’t see anything new, but though he knew he’d never see the way Oran did, he searched all the harder for details.
Darter glided in past the stone breakwater, an affair of stacked rock with a flagstone walkway down the middle between chest-high ridges of rocks small enough for a man to lift, with effort. “Saints above”, Antonio breathed, “how high is that?!”
“One hundred forty-two meters, quay to courtyard”, Percival informed him. Sidmuth had decided that with the Wall complete and manned, with two of Rigel’s cannon and ten of their own on the towers, he could delegate administration of the growing settlements to General McCutcheon – though he really ought to find a deputy. “One hundred fifty-one, to the plaza, and one hundred fifty-three to the assembly yard.” He noted Antonio’s wrinkled brow, and began a description.
“The breakwater path rises two meters to the quay. The street from waterfront to cleft is level. The cleft has both ramp and stairs – the stairs are older; they follow the route that was easiest for building them. The ramp is recent, and longer, because it was built for ponies and carts.” Picturing the climb – he’d made it, of course, before he advocated settlement atop – Percival realized something. “You won’t be able to ride your horses up – the ramp cuts back across itself, and some of the overpaths are low.
“Both stair and ramp come to a level area where stone for the breakwater was mined. It was a collapsed section, so the breakwater was begun for something to do with it all, a place to dispose of it. That place is now the courtyard – if your sight is good, you can make out the battlements.” He joined Antonio’s chuckle. “Yes, odd to have battlements there, with no one to ascend but those of the kingdom, but habit is a powerful thing.
“North of the courtyard, two ramps connect to the plaza, one ramp for ascent and one for descent. The plaza also is built where a section of cliff collapsed, though most of the stone fell into the Sea long ago. What was left became the battlements of the courtyard and the two connecting ramps. Around the plaza are nearly a full ring of buildings, some constructed of stone, some carved into the rock and built up higher. That was once the settlement, with only a rude ramp going up to what has become the true settlement, and the assembly yard. There is space for five thousand above, a thousand below. Above has a moat, which is actually a quarry that follows the walls, but it serves the same.”
“Where do you get water for five thousand people?”
“Ah – ‘my oops’, as your Scouts say. All rain above is collected. There are great cisterns built into the cleft – hidden; they appear to be walls built to strengthen the cliff face above the ramp. There are also cisterns above. Two are great ponds next to the assembly yard, though separated from it by trees and shrubs. Those aid in keeping the water clean.” Sidmuth fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a small jar. “Though with the aid of these small jars your Druid supplied, it will be cleaner still. Some for cisterns, some for sewers”, he recalled out loud.
“Friend Antonio, you think the cliff tall here – in places, it rises to nearly two hundred meters.”
“That’s not British”, Oran observed, pointing at a low, long, sleek craft tied off at the breakwater. It looked like a canoe from old movies he’d seen, except modified with full decks in bow and stern and another in the center. “Or do some lords like canoeing around the Sea?”
“It’s a Haudenosaunee craft, Sir Oran. I’ve not known one to come here, before. They often visit Creek’s Falls, and less frequently Thompson’s Wash, but here... interesting”, Percival concluded.
Ready to bump!” came Olaf Fitzhugh’s clarion voice. Oran laughed; it wasn’t official fleet terminology, but it was accurate. That irreverence accompanied by superior competence had drawn the Snatched to the
Darter’s captain from the first.
“Lines away!” the first officer ordered. With another Fitzhugh innovation, the heavy lines for pulling the ship in were led by standard rope – fired by heavy crossbows. Antonio shook his head at the catcalls from the quay, dock hands jeering the unique method. Oran figured they liked it, since they didn’t have to scramble so fast as when the heavy near-cables came in just before the ship hit – or when the ship ran out of momentum short of the quay and had to be pulled in.
“Lord Sidmuth – the capstans on the quay, they’re for pulling in ships that stop too soon?”
“Aye. With the cliff, wind here can die, or even blow straight down. A captain doesn’t know until close in.” Percival waved to someone on shore.
That puzzled Oran. “Why not have a signal to hoist, telling what the wind is doing?” he asked. “Gambling like this – it doesn’t make sense.”
“Don’t even suggest that, young lord!” Olaf declared. “The dock hands would never forgive you – they do indeed gamble over the matter!”
“That’s silly”, Oran declared with a shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter what the wind is doing, or if a captain knows what it’s doing, they can still bet on how well he brings his” – HMS Darter made contact with the quay with a soft bump – “ship in.”
“True, that is”, Fitzhugh agreed. “But a good captain can read the waves and the spray, and know what the wind is... mostly. Part of the thrill lies in the captain’s skill there. But enough chatter – we’re in, and once tied off we have all of you to get ashore.”
“Quarters await”, Sidmuth informed them. “Antonio, I know you’d like to head straight up. Yet give the horses a night to rest from the sea. Also, at this part of the year, even if we started up now, we might not reach the lip before the fall of dark.”
“That I understand”, Antonio replied. “So no hurry getting ashore.”
When he stepped out of the rather cramped room he’d shared with Percival the next morning, Antonio saw something that made him blink and check to be sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing, then slowly smile and let out a whoop. “Percival, you sneaker, you got the rest of the horses here!”
Percival was right behind him, smiling with pleasure at both fooling and pleasing his friend. His voice made Antonio jump. “
Borric’s a sturdy old hauler, but slow. While we lingered under Duke MacNeil’s hospitality. she caught up. Now all your lancers will be mounted.”
Antonio frowned. “I didn’t bring all....” With a closer look, he noticed the men scurrying on deck among the horses, and laughed with delight. “Percival, thanks to you we’ll make quite an impression!”
“One more surprise, friend Antonio: without an example to examine, the smiths have done what they could to make rifles more like yours. I brought ninety-six. Their range isn’t what you’re accustomed to, but is better than ours. The action is much like yours, save you must load one round at a time. You have eighty-one rounds per rifle. The crafters tell me two or three per man may fail to fire.” He grinned ruefully. “They had two failed rounds from the battle at the Wall to examine, but are not yet as practiced at the making as Lord Rigel’s people.”
“You’re a wonder”, Antonio said. “Except where’d you get the other ship? You said there wasn’t one, when we left.”
“The Borric was at Ian’s Moorage. I learned of it and sent orders. It seemed a surprise would be pleasant.”
“‘Pleasant’, he says!” Antonio laughed. “Well, it’s good for morale. We’ll be a grand sight!” He punched his left palm with right fist. “Let’s find something to call breakfast. Then how long to move this outfit to the top?”
“Cultivate patience, my friend: it will take all day. No horse may ascend before the prior one is halfway up. It is overcautious, perhaps, but my lord Richard Grenville, Duke Radclif, is careful with his greatest treasure, for without the ramp, his settlement is lost.”
The name was familiar; Antonio case back through his memory. “Minister of Eastern Settlement”, he recalled. “I wouldn’t want his job!” He shook his head. “Percival, if we had known.... There is a tool Rigel has. We call it a ‘Cutter’ because it cuts through anything with ease. With it and a skilled user, you could cut a bigger cleft and a gentler ramp. All the rock could be cut for building. Or, wait – if Master Devon got interested, he could probably leave you a tower in the middle with the ramp going around, and the tower could be a stack of cisterns – double your water supply!” Rigel’s hunter grinned. “Heck, Devon might even carve an inn into the cliff halfway up.”
Percival, Grand Earl Sidmuth, got a look of wonder, but he never doubted Antonio’s words. His face went cool and formal. “Not a word of this to Duke Radcliff! Her Majesty must hear of it first.”
Antonio nodded slowly, then sharply. “Politics. Rita thinks your queen’s throne is a bit shaky. Kevin MacNeil reports to her – he definitely wants an alliance. So our Cutter becomes a pawn in your game. Oh, well, that’s the way the world goes, and heaven knows Rigel wants an alliance. So, I won’t mention it, and you can tell Her Majesty. Now let’s have that breakfast.”
They ate quickly, then were off to see Antonio’s men claiming horses and getting sorted out. It was a madhouse with purpose, with all the lancers and archers and foot – now foot with rifles – seemingly milling about. But Tanner had them too well trained for Antonio to believe that for a moment. He threw his own little wrench into the works, though, mounting Muskatel and calling for silence. He didn’t remember later what he told them, but he got a cheer.
As they moved away from the long stone quay, Oran felt a mental twitch and turned. “Yo, ‘Tonio – there’s Haudenosaunee with the craft. And they’re coming this way.”
“You know ‘em better than I do – if they want to talk, you talk.” Antonio looked to Percival for comment, but got only a slow nod.
None of the Haudenosaunee could have been over twenty-five. They stopped five meters away, except one who continued. Oran stepped out to meet the one who’d caused him the twitch. “Greetings, men of the long houses. How fare your tribes?” He made it up on the spot, but it felt right, from the time he’d spent around Onatah.
“Greetings, far-runner”, came the reply. Oran sucked in breath – how could he know? “The tribes fare well”, the young Haudenosaunee answered. He smiled. “You look like a far-runner. And Onatah described you, lord Oran.” His grin was very like Austin’s. “He said you would not return with your lord, as expected, but would seek out the new.”
Oran decided he’d have to thank Onatah next time they met, for not saying anything, at least not to Rigel. “He didn’t order me to go with him”, Scout Two said in justification. “And he has plenty of Scouts”.
“Good enough to do the work over a known way.”
“Yeah.” Oran chuckled. “Okay, so you knew about me. What about you?”
“I am called Tepocah.”
TEH-poe-caw, Oran repeated to himself. “My mother says it means, ‘Little Troublemaker’, but it is really just a name she liked. I run well, I swim well, I climb better than most.” He looked up the cliff. “Soon we should ascend.”
Antonio, listening, cut on. “So we have a whole scout team – makes sense to me, since your people are the ones who know where I’m headed. Shall we head up? We can do introductions on the first rest platform.”
“One-point six kilometers”, Oran reported as they finally came to the top. “That’s a long ramp packed in a tight space. Roughly a ten percent grade – heck of a climb.”
“Yeah, right, Morsel”, Antonio tossed back at the Scout, “you could jog it backwards, naked, in your sleep, and not even wake up with a sweat.”
Oran laughed. “I’ll have to tell Casey that one! If he was here, he’d want to try it – if he could figure out how to run in his sleep.”
“You guys can run all day – you haven’t figured out how to run in your sleep?” Antonio asked, all innocence.
“Ah, here comes himself”, Percival, Lord Sidmuth observed softly. Lord Richard Grenville marched toward then – it was the best description Antonio could give.
“Duke Radclif, right?” Antonio asked, not that he was unsure; talking filled the waiting.
“The same”, Percival answered softly.
“You two aren’t exactly friends, are you?” asked Oran rhetorically. “This will be interesting.”
The Duke looked dusty and a bit worn. He stopped four strides away and surveyed the group. “Grand Earl, I’ve heard you face war.” His gaze moved to Antonio. “With strangers come to fight beside you.” Wonder lit his face as he examined Muskatel. “And actual horses!”
He didn’t need to say anything; Antonio knew he was thinking the same thing every Lost Britisher had. “I’d give you one, my lord, except my own lord has said Her Majesty your Queen gets one first.”
Duke Radcliff’s eyes went to Percival, who was leading a horse. “And my dear Percival is merely a servant, leading the beast?” His voice ran with sarcasm.
Percival shrugged. “It was as close as I could come to having one. In expectation of my welcome, I will yield him to you.”
Radcliff sighed. “Were it not for my work, and your war, there would be little enough welcome. I have learned, oh Grand Earl: in time of peace and prosperity, our... disputes were safe enough. Yet now do they threaten the kingdom, and that is a thing I will not do. For our houses, I am not pleased at your presence. For the kingdom’s sake, I greet you. And I would hear of your war from your own lips.”
“He really doesn’t like you”, Oran muttered. He felt like laughing: somehow, Runner had come around the Sea, and was nearby.
“You mumble in the presence of your betters?” snapped Lord Richard.
“Excuse me, but Lord Oran is merely doing his job, my lord Duke”, Antonio responded firmly. “As Scout-Second, he observes and tells me things I might not know.”
Grenville didn’t look pacified. “A lord, dressed so rudely? Pray tell, what did he observe?”
“A lord dressed for his work”, Antonio responded firmly. “And he told me that you really do not like Lord Percival.”
Richard Grenville glared, but the facade crumbled, and he laughed. “Lord Scout-Second, you observe truly! Lord Percival and I do not like each other. Our fathers did not like each other. Our grandfathers... came to not like one another. But the entire kingdom knows this.”
“You could change it”, Oran proposed. “For men with firm will like you have, it could be done.”
“Leave it be, Oran”, Percival urged softly. “Lord Richard and I have things to talk about – and that one is a luxury for another time.” He stepped forward, tugging the horse. “But you may still lead the horse, Richard”, he offered. However much the duke disliked the earl, he accepted the lead.
Any other soldiers might have complained at the invasive thoroughness of Antonio’s inspection. The ones trained by Tanner helped instead, pointing out little failings so their commander could judge if the bit of wear and tear was bad enough to order repaired before they marched and rode into unknown country. Not that they expected it to happen; their sergeants were picker than Antonio in his worst mood, and nothing had gotten by those noncoms. Any other soldiers might have complained at the tedium. Those presently under Antonio’s command merely waited – although it helped in their waiting that conversing was permitted as long as it didn’t bother the lord at his duty.
Oran was the one who complained, to Tepocah. He wanted the Haudenosaunee scout to meet Runner, but more, he wanted to be out the great gate and running with the great cat.
“A man of patience is like a great tree of the forest, solid both for and against”, Tepocah admonished.
“What about a cat of patience?” Oran asked wryly. Runner wasn’t patient; they’d been too long apart.
“A cat of patience gets its squirrel.” The Haudenosaunee didn’t really believe Oran’s take of a cat as big as himself; there were cats in the forests of the People, but they were only twice as large as the squirrels they hunted, though they looked three times as large when the membranes on their legs were spread and they leapt from tree to tree.
“I believe your flying cats – why don’t you believe my big cat?” Oran believed in flying cats because of some of Ryan’s near-lectures on how evolution can proceed in jumps to fill niches. If, back home, there were flying squirrels, why not flying cats? why not both?
“If cats grew so large, they would break the branches”, Tepocah pronounced firmly.
Oran burst into laughter at Runner’s image of running through the forest, leaping high in a tree and falling, taking all the lower branches down as he went. In a flash, the mental forest was just tall poles with tufts of green at the top, each one with a tidy stack of branches at the base. Oran laughed harder. He swallowed hard when he saw Percival walking over.
“Whether a jest to share, or madness, you perturb lord Antonio’s mood”, the Grand Earl admonished.
“Runner is out there, and he just sent a joke about something Tepocah said”, Oran related.
“Your giant cat?” Sidmuth inquired.
“Yes. He sent me this picture”, Oran began, and explained the images that had set him off.
Sidmuth looked out over the rolling grassland. “Were it not for the casual confidence that all you Scouts have such a creature for companion, I would agree with young Tepocah. Still – keep composure.” He paused. “Lord Richard sends his apologies for his tone yesterday. I explained what it means to be ‘Scout-Second’, and he was impressed. He conceded that a man of such accomplishment, though he be a lord, may dress according to his vocation as he wishes.”
“That’s big of him”, Oran replied. “Just what did you tell him?”
“That you are the second most skilled and accomplished Scout of all your lord Rigel’s realm, among the Celts and the Escobars, and likely among the ‘Quistadors’ in the north, as well.” Now Percival chuckled. “He asked me to beg of you to urge Rigel to make conquest of the ‘Quistadors’ straightaway, and make himself king over them, for they sound quite uncouth and unruly.”
Oran stifled laughed with his hand. “A lot of them are”, he responded. “But Rigel has his own way to go about it – without a war, if he can manage it.”
“A conquest without war – that would be a delightful thing!” Percival sounded sincere, not mocking. “So many fewer widows and orphans, it would bring.”
“That’s what Rigel says”, Oran responded. “He hates killing. Well, except the Others, the Aliens, but either they kill all of us or we kill all of them, and he’d prefer the second option.”
Sidmuth chuckled. “So would we all. Now, where is this cat of yours? Close enough to see? I can bid the guards to hold fire.”
Oran concentrated. “You have to look in just the right place. See that mound out there with the bald spot, and the crest of bushes on the south? He’s going to run over and sit there.” Tepocah found the spot easily, and guided Percival.
“Oh! I had not thought.... He is huge!”
“He is huge”, Tepocah marveled. “Is that really a cat?”
Oran chuckled. “He’s going to do a back flip for you, since you don’t believe.” The figure on the mound set itself, then flipped from a still start. “He says if you believe me about him, when you meet, you can scratch his ears.” They lapsed into silence, and after a minute Runner took off again, dashing here and there... running. “He purrs, too.”
One of Duke Radcliff’s orderlies came jogging over. “Lord Oran? There’s a fellow tried to ascend last night, sentries brought him up. He claims to know you. If you’d care to come with me....?”
Scout Two looked at how far Antonio had to go in his very thorough inspection. “Why not?” The trio left the gate with the orderly and circled the assembled troops.
“Cristobal!” exclaimed Oran, two minutes later. He shook his head. “Guards, you can let him go. He isn’t supposed to be here, but since he is, he’s under my command.” The orderly nodded; the guard on Cristobal’s left unlocked the shackles holding the Scout to a chair.
“Mil gracias, Don Oran”, Crisotbal said. “A thousand thanks”, he put it for his captors’ benefit, as he rubbed his wrists.
“You’ll earn it”, Oran quipped. “Come on – Count Antonio may not be happy about this.” He nodded to the orderly, and led the way.
“Okay, how did you get here?” Oran demanded the moment they were out of hearing of the orderly and guards. He was glad for being a Scout; the surface was uneven, and Percival was having to watch where he walked, to keep up.
Cristobal looked only a little repentant. “I learned you were coming this way, not with Lord Rigel. I thought to myself, Where will I get better training? and so I stowed away, and here I am.”
Oran knew there was a lot left out, but he himself had used Scout skills to sneak away and hide and then join Antonio; Cristobal’s tale would be different only because he’d stowed away instead of just catching Antonio alone and telling. “Okay – so you’re here to learn? Well, you can go back to teaching me the sword, too. For now, you need gear for traveling. Let’s get busy.”
Grand Earl and Duke both rode beside Antonio for the final inspection. “They look good now”, Grenville commented when the men were dismissed. “How will they fare beyond?”
Percival chuckled. “They traveled a wilderness to reach us, fellow Minister – and fought Aliens to do it.”
“So they did. But this is a different place. My lord Count, be warned: there is an infestation of beasts – vicious, hungry beasts – two days out. If I may, I would ride with you that far, and share what I know.” The Duke talked with both hands. Oran judged it showing off, a display that his knees were enough to control his horse.
Runner agreed. <horses can fear cats>, he sent, his teasing image clear.
No teasing the horses, Oran thought back with a stifled grin. He agreed the Duke ought to be humbled a bit, but he wasn’t willing to risk a horse.
“Works for me”, Antonio decided. “Percival – defend that Wall. I’ll be back your way.” The two shook. Percival surrendered his horse to a rifleman. The other two lords watched him walk away for a minute.
“He has changed”, Duke Radcliff commented. “War has stiffened him.”
“That, too”, Antonio replied. “Mostly, he’s spent a lot of time with Kevin MacNeil. He understands life better.” Rigel’s Hunter didn’t allow time for a reply. “Scouts! Lead out!” he cried. A grinning Oran sprinted through the gate first, Cristobal two paces back and left, the Haudenosaunee flashing out behind, spreading, vanishing into the hills.
Antonio dipped his lance once, and the rest of the troops followed, moving out under his watchful eye.
“Wolf-rats”, Oran said with disgust, two days later in the evening. “Bloody wolf-rats.”
“You’ve met them before?” the Duke inquired.
Oran nodded. “Yeah – in the hills up north. These are bigger. The burned strip keeps them out?”
“Mostly. The other learn from arrows – cheaper than bullets.” Radcliff scratched his chin. “Lord Antonio, if young Lord Oran here knows these beasts, I shall be going.”
“Not so fast”, Oran responded. “These are bigger – they must be different. The northern ones attack in packs – do these?”
Their host and guide shook his head. “Not if what you mean is swarms. We’ve seen eight in a batch, never more. They’re near as fast as one of your horses, when they charge. They can’t manage that long, so if you can get them to rush you, and stay just out of reach, they’ll tire themselves and they’re easier.” Radcliff rubbed at his nose. “If they see you coming, they’re fast. My rangers have a trick – sink an arrow into the hindquarters, it slows them down.” He looked sadly at the reins in his hands. “Just when my muscles fit themselves to a real horse, I must return them to a pony. You’ll be past these beasts before I sleep in my own bed again – two days, till the line where the hills stop.” With a sigh he swung down. “My lords, journey well.”
“Many thanks, friend Richard”, Antonio answered, looking over, then turning to look back. “We’ll be back this way.” He grinned. “Maybe we can bring a souvenir.”
