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involuntary hosts.
ôIs it true your people are refugees?ö asked one old man.
ôHow can you survive without a family?ö inquired a shy young woman.
A middle-aged woman with gnarled, work-hardened hands declared, ôIf you
soldiers
can make flowers bloom you can grow vegetables.ö And when Clement and her
soldiers were leaving, the woman tucked some packets of vegetable seeds into
ClementÆs pocket and urged her to plant them.
ôWhat has come over these people!ö exclaimed Herme.
Clement was unnerved. When and how had the Shaftali people become so
well-informed? How did the woman know that soldiers grow flowers, for
example?
The members of ClementÆs company, who could not understand these
conversations,
were mystified enough by the hospitality, but Clement felt that a monstrous
disaster loomed just beyond the limits of her ability to see and understand
it.
Even though the company slept warm and ate well, it was no easy journey.
Clement
participated in the rotation of hauling the sledges and sitting the night
watch.
When a storm blew in, or the wind turned particularly cold, or the trees took
it
upon themselves to dump loads of snow onto their heads, she cursed the
hostile
landscape as viciously and sincerely as the rest of them. When they were
tired,
or fighting their way up a hill, or wanting courage for crossing a frozen
river,
she joined with them in singing to raise their spirits or keep the paceùa
breathless, harsh, and tuneless chorus, perhaps, but sometimes even she felt
carried by the sound of it. She sat with them on straw or stone, and ate
whatever they ate, and slept wherever they were sleeping, and by the third
night
of their return journey had acquired two bedfellows. ôShould you sleep cold
just
because youÆve been promoted?ö the soldier asked, when she and her partner
hauled their blankets over to ClementÆs solitary bed, in a very drafty barn.
ôYouÆve been good to us,ö her partner explained vaguely.
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ôItÆs a cold night.ö
ôAnd thereÆs that wind.ö
ôBy the gods,ö said Clement, with all sincerity, ôI could use a warm nightÆs
sleep.ö
After that, every last one of the solders in the company, including Herme,
seemed to forget who Clement was. They shouted at her when necessary, and did
not take their cold hands from their pockets to salute, and even called her
by
name. She pretended to be oblivious to this deterioration in discipline.
The entire company recovered abruptly from their sloppiness when they entered
Watfield. ôIÆll pull that sledge, Lieutenant-General,ö one of her companions
said, and she was gently, irresistibly forced into the proper position for a
commanding officer, the center of the column. ôWell, Captain,ö she said
regretfully to the man she had been calling Herme for the last eight days. ôI
guess the journeyÆs over.
ôYes, Lieutenant-General.ö
ôIÆd like to thank the company myself when weÆre inside the gate. And IÆll
ask
Commander Ellid to give the company a few dayÆs rest before you return to
regular duty.ö
ôThank you, Lieutenant-General. The company will certainly appreciate that.ö
It was a gray day, and the bright colors of the cityÆs latched shutters and
doors were further muted by a haze of chimney smoke. They walked between
ridges
of snow that walled either side of the road, and the sledge runners clacked
rhythmically on exposed cobblestones. The garrison gate lay ahead. Clement
could
hear a distant cheer as the gate guards spotted them, and then a bugle pealed
the news of their arrival. Suddenly the entire company walked in step, lined
up,
straight-backed.
By some unlikely piece of luck, Gilly was already waiting at the gate.
Clement
could see him, hunched like a crow on his exceptionally steady horse, exactly
as
he had been when she left. Had he been as haunted by anxiety as she had been,
this last month?
Now they were passing the building that housed ClementÆs small, peculiar
family.
The door opened; the girl-nurse came out onto the stoop with the
heavily-bundled
baby in her arms.
Clement had broken formation and climbed the stairs before it even occurred
to
her that now the entire company had no choice but to come to a disorderly and
rather confused halt. She took her son in her arms. He seemed to be asleep.
The
small weight of his body simultaneously relieved and oppressed her. She
kissed
his forehead softly so as to not awaken him.
The girl-nurse looked pale. ôIs my son well?ö Clement asked. ôHas Gilly
looked
after you?ö
ôOf course,ö the girl said, looking flustered.
ôCome into the garrison with me. Captain Hermeùö
Clement gave the baby back to the girl, and the captain stepped forward to
help
her down the stairs. Now the door opened again, and the storyteller came out,
carrying a basket, with her heavy cloak loosely wrapped around her shoulders.
Clement thought, Now it begins.
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She said, ôStoryteller, are you on your way into the garrison? You might as
well
come with us.ö
The storytellerÆs dark, narrow, sculpted face was beyond reading. Yet it
seemed
to Clement that the woman knew she had no choice but to comply. The
storyteller
followed the girl-nurse down the steps, and silently accepted the soldiersÆ
greetings. The company continued its progress, and was admitted with the
usual
fanfare into the garrison, as Gilly watched, his ugly face drawn and
unsmiling.
Clement made a laudatory speech and dismissed the weary company. As the
soldiers
sorted out their gear and began to disperse, Clement took the gate captain
aside. ôCaptain, I want you to take the storyteller into custody and keep her
under guard in the gaol. Do it as quietly as you can. I donÆt think she will
resist.ö
ôYes, Lieutenant-General. May I askùö
ôNo, I canÆt explain.ö
He gave her a stiff salute, signaled his company, and with several soldiers
behind him approached the storyteller. She spoke a couple of words, and
handed
the captain her basket. Then she turned and walked off with the soldiers. It
was
a very quiet arrest, but the girl-nurse noticed and understood. Uttering a
small
moan, wild-eyed, she clutched the baby to her breast. What reason had she to
fear she might be next?
GillyÆs stolid horse breathed out a puff of fog as Clement went to him, and
took
his proffered hand in a pretense of greeting.
ôWhat are you doing?ö he asked in a low voice.
ôI believe the storytellerÆs tribe is AshawalaÆi, the tribe that would
destroy
us, a seer once said.ö
Gilly said after a moment, ôSeerÆs visions are explanatory or tentative, not
necessarily predictive. Even if she is a survivor of that unfortunate tribe .
.
.ö
ôShe also may be the Lost GÆdeonÆs lover.ö
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