[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
make now? What difference does anything make now?"
"How can we go on?" Thisbe asked. "The place where everything started . . . in
the southrons' hands and burning? How can we go on?"
Gremio looked north toward those flickering flames, which leaped higher every
moment. Everything in
Hail was going to burn; nothing could be plainer than that. And nothing could
be plainer than the answer
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- Chapter 12
to Thisbe's question, either. Gremio looked around. No one but the
underofficer was paying the least attention to what he said. "We can't go on
any more," he replied. "What's the use? It's over. It's done. It's broken.
We've lost. The sooner this cursed war ends, the better."
There. He'd said it. That he'd said it felt oddly liberating. He waited to
hear what Sergeant Thisbe would say now that he'd said it. The underofficer
looked at him for a long moment, then slowly nodded. "Yes, sir," Thisbe said
after perhaps half a minute's silence, and then, "If that's how you feel, what
do you aim to do now?"
"I'm going home," Gremio answered. "That's the best thing I can think of to
do." Now he was the one who hesitated before asking, "Will you come with me?"
"Yes, sir," the sergeant said again, this time right away. "I'd be pleased to
come along, if you're sure you want the company." Thisbe again waited a moment
before asking, "Will you tell Colonel Florizel before you go?"
"No." Gremio shook his head. "That would only put the weight on him, not on
me, where it belongs.
This is my choice. Florizel's not a blind man, and not nearly so stupid as I
thought when I first got to know him. If no, when we run into each other after
the war, I'll explain myself then, but I won't need to do much explaining."
"Yes, sir," Thisbe said one more time.
They left Joseph the Gamecock's army in the gray half-light before dawn the
next morning. Fires from the burning Hail still lit the sky. A sentry
challenged them. Someone was still alert and doing his job the best way he
knew how. Gremio didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. He gave his name and
rank. The sentry said, "Advance and be recognized." As soon as the fellow saw
his epaulets, he nodded and said, "Pass on, sir and you, too, Sergeant."
"Thank you," Thisbe answered, with no trace of irony Gremio could hear.
Leaving the army was easy. Gremio wasn't sure how hard evading Hesmucet's men
would prove. He hurried west, out of the southrons' line of march, reasoning
they would be more interested in Joseph's army than in a couple of stragglers
from it. His reasoning wasn't always what he wished it would be, but he turned
out to be right about that. He saw men in gray in the distance three or four
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times. They probably saw him, too, but they kept on moving south. Two soldiers
already out of the fight didn't matter to them.
And Gremio and Thisbe weren't the only stragglers on the road: nowhere near.
Others were getting away from Joseph's army, too. Civilians were fleeing the
wrath Hesmucet's men were showing against
Palmetto Province and the greater wrath those civilians feared he would show.
And blonds were on the road, straggling seemingly just for the joy of
straggling. If they weren't bound to their liege lords' estates any more, they
would go wherever they pleased. That was what their feet seemed to be saying,
anyhow.
Both Gremio and Thisbe still carried crossbow and shortsword. That made the
other wanderers through the ruins of King Geoffrey's hopes and those of
Palmetto Province walk wide around them, which suited Gremio fine.
"What do you reckon Karlsburg'll be like?" Thisbe asked. "You think
anything'll be left of it at all?"
"I don't know," was all Gremio could say. "We'll find out when we get there."
Thisbe nodded. "Makes sense."
Gremio wondered whether anything made sense. The estate he and Thisbe passed
that afternoon made
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- Chapter 12
him doubt it. Serfs worked in the fields and garden plots there as if the War
Between the Provinces had never started, let alone taken this disastrous turn
for King Geoffrey's cause. He wondered what the liege lord had told his
blonds. Whatever it was, they seemed to believe it. That would probably last
till the first gray-uniformed southron found the place. It hadn't happened
yet.
After tramping on till nightfall, Gremio and Thisbe camped by the side of the
road. The sergeant made a little fire. They didn't have much to eat only some
bread Gremio had brought with him. He hadn't wanted to take much, for the men
who stayed behind were every bit as needy as he was. Once they'd eaten, they
rolled themselves in their blankets on opposite sides of the fire and fell
asleep.
Two more days of marching (and a little judicious hen-stealing) brought them
to the outskirts of
Karlsburg. A troop of gray-clad unicorn-riders trotted up the road toward
them. Thisbe started to reach for a crossbow bolt, then hesitated. "We can't
fight them all, sir," the underofficer said. "What now?"
"Let's see what they do," Gremio answered.
The southron unicorn-riders made no overtly hostile move. They reined in just
in front of Gremio and
Thisbe. Their captain looked the two northerners over, then asked, "You boys
out of the war?"
Resignedly, Gremio nodded. "Yes, we're out of it."
"All right," the southron said. "Throw down your crossbows, then, and your
quarrels. You can keep the shortswords. They don't matter. Go into town. Swear
the oath of allegiance to King Avram. Take off the epaulets and the stripes.
Go on about your business. No one will bother you if you don't bother anyone."
Thunk. Thunk
. The crossbows, so long carried, so much used, went into the roadway. The
sheaves of bolts followed. They rattled as they fell. Gremio strode on toward
his home town without looking back.
Thisbe followed. Nodding, the southron captain and his troopers resumed their
patrol. To them, it was nothing but routine.
Coming into Karlsburg wasn't routine, not for Gremio. His home town hadn't
burned. That was something, anyhow. But southron soldiers clogged the streets.
And most of the soldiers in gray in
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Karlsburg were blonds. They grinned and swaggered as they marched. Ordinary
Detinans stayed out of their way. How many old scores had the blonds already
settled? Maybe better not to know.
A businesslike lieutenant a Detinan, not a blond accepted Gremio and Thisbe's
oaths of allegiance to
King Avram. The promises and the punishments in the oath were both milder than
Gremio had expected.
The lieutenant offered a scissors. "Cut off your emblems of rank," he said.
"They don't matter any more.
You're civilians again."
Once the job was done, Gremio returned the scissors to him. "Thank you," he
managed.
"You're welcome," the brisk Detinan answered. "Good luck to you."
Out in the street, Gremio took Thisbe's hands. "This is the time," Gremio
declared. "I've waited too . . . long already. I won't wait another minute,
confound it. Will you marry me, Sergeant?"
Thisbe smiled. "I've waited a long time, too," she said, "but you can't ask me
that."
"What?" Gremio didn't know whether he'd burst with fury or with mortification.
"Why the hells not?"
"Because I'm not a sergeant any more, that's why." Thisbe touched the spot on
her tunic sleeve where the stripes had stayed for so long. "The lieutenant
said so, remember?"
"Oh." Gremio felt foolish. "You're right, of course. Well, in that case . . . [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl wyciskamy.pev.pl
make now? What difference does anything make now?"
"How can we go on?" Thisbe asked. "The place where everything started . . . in
the southrons' hands and burning? How can we go on?"
Gremio looked north toward those flickering flames, which leaped higher every
moment. Everything in
Hail was going to burn; nothing could be plainer than that. And nothing could
be plainer than the answer
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- Chapter 12
to Thisbe's question, either. Gremio looked around. No one but the
underofficer was paying the least attention to what he said. "We can't go on
any more," he replied. "What's the use? It's over. It's done. It's broken.
We've lost. The sooner this cursed war ends, the better."
There. He'd said it. That he'd said it felt oddly liberating. He waited to
hear what Sergeant Thisbe would say now that he'd said it. The underofficer
looked at him for a long moment, then slowly nodded. "Yes, sir," Thisbe said
after perhaps half a minute's silence, and then, "If that's how you feel, what
do you aim to do now?"
"I'm going home," Gremio answered. "That's the best thing I can think of to
do." Now he was the one who hesitated before asking, "Will you come with me?"
"Yes, sir," the sergeant said again, this time right away. "I'd be pleased to
come along, if you're sure you want the company." Thisbe again waited a moment
before asking, "Will you tell Colonel Florizel before you go?"
"No." Gremio shook his head. "That would only put the weight on him, not on
me, where it belongs.
This is my choice. Florizel's not a blind man, and not nearly so stupid as I
thought when I first got to know him. If no, when we run into each other after
the war, I'll explain myself then, but I won't need to do much explaining."
"Yes, sir," Thisbe said one more time.
They left Joseph the Gamecock's army in the gray half-light before dawn the
next morning. Fires from the burning Hail still lit the sky. A sentry
challenged them. Someone was still alert and doing his job the best way he
knew how. Gremio didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. He gave his name and
rank. The sentry said, "Advance and be recognized." As soon as the fellow saw
his epaulets, he nodded and said, "Pass on, sir and you, too, Sergeant."
"Thank you," Thisbe answered, with no trace of irony Gremio could hear.
Leaving the army was easy. Gremio wasn't sure how hard evading Hesmucet's men
would prove. He hurried west, out of the southrons' line of march, reasoning
they would be more interested in Joseph's army than in a couple of stragglers
from it. His reasoning wasn't always what he wished it would be, but he turned
out to be right about that. He saw men in gray in the distance three or four
Page 239
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
times. They probably saw him, too, but they kept on moving south. Two soldiers
already out of the fight didn't matter to them.
And Gremio and Thisbe weren't the only stragglers on the road: nowhere near.
Others were getting away from Joseph's army, too. Civilians were fleeing the
wrath Hesmucet's men were showing against
Palmetto Province and the greater wrath those civilians feared he would show.
And blonds were on the road, straggling seemingly just for the joy of
straggling. If they weren't bound to their liege lords' estates any more, they
would go wherever they pleased. That was what their feet seemed to be saying,
anyhow.
Both Gremio and Thisbe still carried crossbow and shortsword. That made the
other wanderers through the ruins of King Geoffrey's hopes and those of
Palmetto Province walk wide around them, which suited Gremio fine.
"What do you reckon Karlsburg'll be like?" Thisbe asked. "You think
anything'll be left of it at all?"
"I don't know," was all Gremio could say. "We'll find out when we get there."
Thisbe nodded. "Makes sense."
Gremio wondered whether anything made sense. The estate he and Thisbe passed
that afternoon made
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t%20(HTML)/0743435761__12.htm (19 of 21)2-2-2007 17:08:03
- Chapter 12
him doubt it. Serfs worked in the fields and garden plots there as if the War
Between the Provinces had never started, let alone taken this disastrous turn
for King Geoffrey's cause. He wondered what the liege lord had told his
blonds. Whatever it was, they seemed to believe it. That would probably last
till the first gray-uniformed southron found the place. It hadn't happened
yet.
After tramping on till nightfall, Gremio and Thisbe camped by the side of the
road. The sergeant made a little fire. They didn't have much to eat only some
bread Gremio had brought with him. He hadn't wanted to take much, for the men
who stayed behind were every bit as needy as he was. Once they'd eaten, they
rolled themselves in their blankets on opposite sides of the fire and fell
asleep.
Two more days of marching (and a little judicious hen-stealing) brought them
to the outskirts of
Karlsburg. A troop of gray-clad unicorn-riders trotted up the road toward
them. Thisbe started to reach for a crossbow bolt, then hesitated. "We can't
fight them all, sir," the underofficer said. "What now?"
"Let's see what they do," Gremio answered.
The southron unicorn-riders made no overtly hostile move. They reined in just
in front of Gremio and
Thisbe. Their captain looked the two northerners over, then asked, "You boys
out of the war?"
Resignedly, Gremio nodded. "Yes, we're out of it."
"All right," the southron said. "Throw down your crossbows, then, and your
quarrels. You can keep the shortswords. They don't matter. Go into town. Swear
the oath of allegiance to King Avram. Take off the epaulets and the stripes.
Go on about your business. No one will bother you if you don't bother anyone."
Thunk. Thunk
. The crossbows, so long carried, so much used, went into the roadway. The
sheaves of bolts followed. They rattled as they fell. Gremio strode on toward
his home town without looking back.
Thisbe followed. Nodding, the southron captain and his troopers resumed their
patrol. To them, it was nothing but routine.
Coming into Karlsburg wasn't routine, not for Gremio. His home town hadn't
burned. That was something, anyhow. But southron soldiers clogged the streets.
And most of the soldiers in gray in
Page 240
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Karlsburg were blonds. They grinned and swaggered as they marched. Ordinary
Detinans stayed out of their way. How many old scores had the blonds already
settled? Maybe better not to know.
A businesslike lieutenant a Detinan, not a blond accepted Gremio and Thisbe's
oaths of allegiance to
King Avram. The promises and the punishments in the oath were both milder than
Gremio had expected.
The lieutenant offered a scissors. "Cut off your emblems of rank," he said.
"They don't matter any more.
You're civilians again."
Once the job was done, Gremio returned the scissors to him. "Thank you," he
managed.
"You're welcome," the brisk Detinan answered. "Good luck to you."
Out in the street, Gremio took Thisbe's hands. "This is the time," Gremio
declared. "I've waited too . . . long already. I won't wait another minute,
confound it. Will you marry me, Sergeant?"
Thisbe smiled. "I've waited a long time, too," she said, "but you can't ask me
that."
"What?" Gremio didn't know whether he'd burst with fury or with mortification.
"Why the hells not?"
"Because I'm not a sergeant any more, that's why." Thisbe touched the spot on
her tunic sleeve where the stripes had stayed for so long. "The lieutenant
said so, remember?"
"Oh." Gremio felt foolish. "You're right, of course. Well, in that case . . . [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]